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↳❝ᴡᴇʟᴄᴏᴍɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴛᴜʀɴ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʀᴏᴡɴ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ!❞
Music hushed like the fingers brushing against string was snipped apart. Singing, chortling, and chattering all came to a halt as the ballroom doors parted with a creaking groan.
Eyes like stalking vultures stared at the entrance, the decision of when and where to pick and chew lulling on their lips.
Heavy armor creaked and clicked with every methodical step of your feet. The soles coated in wet petrichor seeped into the premium carpets, which left behind a rather foul stench of the battlefield.
"Ah~! My princess, my darling princess! You've done it!" Your father's towering figure rose from his throne, the silks of his uniform dragging across the ground as he leisurely strode down the stairs.
"Another war won in my name! Another battle brought victory to my kingdom!" His voice bellowed throughout the lyceum.
Not one person would dare speak as His Majesty spoke.
Your body had no need for another step as it fell with the weight of your protection. Kneeling, your head within what once was a holy white helmet bowed with respect.
"The battle between Fort Bodora ended with your victory and an agreement you will be most pleased with, your majesty." The tone was that of a cold graveyard, dreadful and out of place.
In this ballroom full of light and gold, your entrance of ash and blood only dampened the ambiance.
"As expected of the heir! Isn't the Crown Princess simply so competent!?" The crowd murmured their soft-spoken 'yes.'
Your father's boots clicked against the ground as he circled your kneeling figure that soaked the carpets with rainwater.
"There has not been a battle lost that was led by this heir! Never a war nor a match brought disgrace to this kingdom! We truly are blessed with such a benefactor! Are we not!?"
The responses reverberating around were filled with nothing but sh*t. Lips of privilege could lie so well with eyes scored in sin.
'When you die and return your body to the earth, you will not have coin nor jewelry nor property. You will not have servants nor title nor authority.'
The very first Emperor of the Athicivia Empire had not been buried in his wealth but laid to rest in a field of flowers.
A tradition that only lasted one generation. Too many cared for wealth than the well-being of their people.
"It's unfortunate that I must inform you of this so soon; you've only just returned from three years on the battleground...I know you are more than exhausted..." His steps ceased as his heels rested together in front of your bowed head. "But the future of this empire is not easy or simple. There are sacrifices and discomforts we must endure. You understand this, don't you, Crown Princess?"
You desired to lift your head to look at him in the eyes as he spoke. You yearned for the sight of his gaze meeting yours, and you've longed for him to speak your name...just once.
"Yes, your majesty."
The Emperor began his ascent to his throne while enclasping his gloved hands behind his back.
"Then you will do well to accomplish this assignment. You only need to meet with the scouts I have stationed in the Orc land of the west. Assist in their surveying and assemble tactics to prepare for takeover. It is not much, and you can even be done in the morning if you're proficient enough!" He settled his body within his embellished throne and crossed one leg over the other.
"You won't disappoint me, will you?"
"I could never, your majesty."
He waved a hand dismissively while training his attention on the glass of wine brought over by a servant.
"Off you go, Crown Princess. I'm ever so eager to be informed of your progress."
Not another word was expressed as the music played again. Those ravenous gazes fled from your frame and returned to each other, where they picked apart every little thing.
This banquet was in your honor, yet you were unable to celebrate. But it is alright; you have always been more comfortable in thin tents than stone castle walls.
After a moment, you stood to your feet and rose your gaze.
Your mother's focus was on her youngest child and second daughter. Only two pairs of eyes remained on your frame, and you could feel pity seeping off of it.
Without another word, you followed the tracks of your muddy footprints, and once your frame had passed the entrance, the doors came to slam behind.
Even as you trekked away and the music grew muter, the clacking of your dark armor was more pleasant to your ears than anything else.
"Crown Princess! Princess, wait!"
Muscles tensed and taut, with your stomach coiling like it was attempting to eat itself. Twisting your torso to view the only prince in the Athicivia Empire, your eyes shielded within the grimy helmet bore into his lustrous azure eyes.
Your half-brother, Quincy Estrea, ambled forward with slow yet cautious steps. Son of the Queen Consort, his illegitimate bloodline saved him from the position of heir.
With hair spun of gold, soft to the touch, and rolling down the back of his neck in delicate ringlets. He was young, only around sixteen, so his face was in the midst of round and sharp.
His lips were small yet thick, a natural pout that gave him a feminine touch.
"U-Um, I'm glad...moth- The Queen Consort and I are pleased that you are alright." He struggled to find his words as if being under your gaze were too intense.
The coiling in your abdomen grew worse, like a snake enwrapping over your stomach and compressing. "Return to the party, Prince. His Majesty will not be pleased with your absence."
His rounded eyes widened before he swallowed thickly and cleared his throat. Quincy's gloved hands searched within the inside pockets of his uniform to remove a small delicate charm.
Holding it out, you could see it was an amber tear the size of his palm, entwined around hard metal that was as bright as gold.
"The Queen Consort desired for you to have the amulet." The boy offered it eagerly, with the tips of his fingers twitching. "The storm will only grow worse tonight. This will keep you warm beneath your armor."
Staring at it for only a moment, your gauntlets reached for the charm, and the cold metal scraped against the sterile cloth of his gloves.
Immediately, warmth spurred from the gem, enveloping your skin in an invisible blanket. It was comforting and pleasant though it evoked the exhaustion that was hidden in the back of your head.
"Inform the Queen Consort of my gratitude." Your tone was different than the one in the ballroom. Not cold nor unwelcoming, but strained and distant.
Nodding his head, he stepped back before reaching once again into the inside of his coat. Revealed was a thin teal dagger; the length of your forearm in a thick encrusted onyx sheath.
"Take this as well." Quincy insisted with his gaze down on his premium shoes. "I didn't... I was not sure what you would like, but... I remember-"
"-I thought His Majesty destroyed this?" You spoke in slight disbelief, interjecting his speech out of shock.
"He did." The prince affirmed, gingerly raising his gaze to meet yours shielded behind the armor. "After he sent you to fight another battle, I managed to find someone qualified enough to fix it."
The square in your shoulders sagged slightly, your hunkering figure appearing to almost shrink in size.
"Crown Princess... Sister... Happy birthday." His own voice wavered as if he had no strength to speak louder than a whisper. "Return back safely."
Was it really your birthday? You've forgotten about it for years; the was no purpose to celebrating such a thing, only meters away from creatures that wanted nothing more than to tear your heart out and eat it.
Your twenty-six birthday...Twenty-six years you've served this empire as its benefactor.
And not once had you ever celebrated it.
You were born solely for the kingdom; your purpose was only to grow it to new heights. There was nothing more to it than that.
If he could see behind your mask, the prince would witness your quivering lips that you were forced to bite to hold back a sob.
Grasping the forged weapon, you couldn't bare to look at it any longer, so you hid it within a strap by your hips.
"You should know better than to call me sister. His Majesty-"
"-Is not here." You recoiled back at his stern utterance. Astounded at first by his back talk before coming to terms with his age.
The last you saw of him, he was only turning twelve. Even before your assignment for another war, you had not a drop of time for him or anyone.
How the boy is growing. The next time you'd see him wouldn't be till long; he'll reach adulthood in mere seconds.
You rose a hand cautiously, which provoked the boy to flinch and shield his eyes behind his lids. However, once the cold metal of your armored palm rested on his fluffy hair, he cracked them open in wonderment.
"(Y-" You shook your head in warning, which immediately silenced him. His pouty lips pursed, and his gloved hands scrunched aside his waist.
"I must be off, Prince. Do enjoy your time at the party; it is in my honor, after all."
Quincy scoffed at your words and rose his hands to the blood and mud-covered gauntlet. "It is a party for The Emperor and Empress' ego. Your loyalty and patriotism leave you blind like the elderly."
Removing your hands from his head, you stared into his bright eyes. "They have every right too. They are the rulers, and my sole position is to follow their every beck and command. That is my purpose as the heir." That cold and unwelcoming tone once again returned, prompting the young prince's bottom lip to quiver.
He was void of any more thoughts or words as you twisted around in your heavy armor and trekked through the palace to complete your next mission.
Even if every muscle within your body begged you to rest.
No longer had the clopping of hooves intermingled with the pitter-patter of torrent rain. Instead, they were cracking of metal and the thunderous tremors of the earth below.
The speed of your equine increased to the source.
Gurgling and screaming bellowed as if blown from horns, spurring your heart rate to increase.
His Majesty's scouts from the eight detachment were found.
And he knew you wouldn't make it in time.
Gloaming twilight had become illuminated by blazing embers. They danced in the sky like weightless strings.
Arriving at where the division was stationed, you came to the sight of another battlefield.
The fire still burned within the forest of the west, and even under the storm, vegetation ignited like coated in oil.
Armored bodies littered the floor, soaked in muck and blood. Your heart skipped a beat while snapping something within your head.
This was another war you must fight, another battle you must win - for him.
Your body rose, no longer sitting but now crouching on the saddle. The steed entered the grounds, and you launched yourself off of it with all the strength within your thighs.
Weightless shrouded your limbs for only a moment as you unsheathed your sword and readied it. The force generated by your weapon connecting with the tilled dirt rumbled like an avalanche and sent shockwaves throughout the land.
Waterlogged earth crumbled beneath the impact, splitting the grounds into caverns.
Curses and exclamations of surprise reverberated outwards, and you looked up; there was not a single Athicivia soldier standing on his feet.
You were too late.
"No!" Your voice overcame the blustering raindrops like a ripple of thunder that snapped the sky open.
He sent you into battle, knowing they'd be dead before you arrived, and he sent you to fight for your life against a band of orcs.
"Look who has arrived!" Strolling through the fire, a beast of an orc stepped through. His hunkering figure towered at an unbelievable 8 feet (243cm).
He was soaked in mud, coated in blood, and riddled with muscles. Veins bulged against his toffee-hued skin that was soft like bronze.
The orcs surrounding you were bulky, stout, and powerfully built. However, the one stepping forward, as if to challenge, was something else.
Hickory locks hung low to the middle of his back, with the top half tied into a bun. A few strays stuck to his forehead and the side of his slightly hollowed cheeks.
Staring down at you with marigold eyes like a bubbling volcano, they appeared more haunting than a demon's beady red optics.
"A warrior! Have you come for revenge!? Or are you here for a death wish, little human!?" In his tone, you could perceive hints of authority.
Running would be useless. They surrounded your figure, standing aside as they awaited further instructions.
Or until it was their turn for combat.
Instead of replying, you twirled the handle of the sword within your palms and readied your stance.
There was nothing left now but to fight. Fight as you've done with every single breath you've ever taken.
The coy grin on his lips fell into a snarl as he craned his neck. "ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴍᴇ!? ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜɪɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴀɴᴅʟᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜɪᴇꜰ!?" Your stomach coiled a the revelation. "ɪ'ʟʟ ꜰᴜᴄᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰɪᴇʟᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴀʟʟ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴏʟᴅɪᴇʀꜱ ᴀɴᴅ ꜱʜᴏᴡ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪᴛ ᴍᴇᴀɴꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀᴇꜱᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇ ᴀ ᴍᴏɴꜱᴛᴇʀ!"
More sinful words and vulgar idioms have been spat at you during your multiple battles. However, the threat from this beast was overcoming the warmth of the amulet and freezing the tips of your fingers in apprehension.
The rain continued to pound against your armor and seeped onto his hair. Blood nor mud would wash off his bare torso though it seemed not a problem to him.
"I don't know whether you fight honorable or merely just foolish! But nonetheless, I never back down from a challenge!"
He raised a massive double-sided axe and slammed it down at your figure. You could hear it slice through the air, wailing like an arrow that broke the sound barrier.
Jumping backward and employing a hand to push yourself back onto your feet, you nearly fell to your bottom from the tremors brought about by his weapon connecting with the ground.
That was on purpose. He was intentionally lagging so you'd be able to evade, and he could demonstrate his strength.
So he could split the land just as you had done, yet display a tremendous abundance of strength that you could never compare to in any way.
Of all the beasts to come across, you've just had to come face to face with an Orc Chieftan of the North and East.
Beneath rain, the fire continued to eat away carts of supplies and tents set about. It would be been complete and utter darkness if it were not for the blazing flames.
The flickering across this giant monster's tough skin was haunting, spurring dread to infuse within your already overburdened muscles.
For such a burly hulking thing, his movements were swift and deliberate. You would have succumbed to a slash from his weapon if you had not blocked in time over your head.
Your feet sunk within sodden earth, the weight of his attack invoking the sword with your hand to cry-
-to cry like it were about to break.
Sliding the weapon downwards, you utilized your smaller position to elbow him right in the lower abdomen.
The flexure was protected by hard pointed armor, so once you connected it with his body, it punctured through muscle and flesh.
It was a diminutive but deep wound that bled with darkened liquid.
He grunted, one of his massive hands colliding with your head and smacking the helmet clean off your skull.
It launched somewhere within the field, no longer shielding your cranium from rain. Your hair kept tightly braided had become undone, weighing heavy with water and adhering to your face.
Blood pooled within your mouth from a wound sprouting on your bottom lip, yet all you did was spit it out at the ground.
The two of you sneered, eyes blazing into one another like they were their own weapons. Not only was survival on the line, but pride too.
Yours as well as his.
You knew the outcome of this would not end well for your situation. Surrounded by his men, you could attempt to flee however easily you could become cornered.
If you remained here to fight for your life - your dignity, likely you'd only lose. This was a battle you feared you'd suffer a defeat.
Maybe if you were not as languorous from only just returning home, your thoughts would not linger so much on negativity.
The chief twisted his wrist and struck with a heavy descent that connected with your weapon. You were able to block; however, the force he employed shattered the steel as if he pounded against glass.
How many years on the field did you endure to know better than to be hesitant? No matter what occurs, you must remain level-headed.
Though, you couldn't help but envelop in shock by his mere strength obliterating one of the empire's greatest weapons.
Conveniently, the chief exploited your disbelief and angled his axe upwards. It tore through the back of your armor so easily, like he sliced through a flower.
"Ack!" The pain brought about by his attack left you breathless. It stung like an assault of wasps yet burned as though snake venoms coursed through your bloodstream.
He could have struck bone for all you knew.
"I would have believed the Princess of War was better than this!" The Orc bellowed, releasing his axe to grasp your throat.
His thick fingers bore into your skin, drilling into the flesh as his palm plowed against your larynx. You struggled to breathe, overwhelmed by the pain and fatigue.
The Emperor sent you here to die.
Kicking one of your legs outwards, you wrapped it around the back of his knee, which sent him tumbling like a landslide.
Your wounded back connected with malleable soil though his hand had yet to release your neck. Above you, he hovered like a predator, ready to devour its meal.
"Accept defeat, and your death will be painless!" His voice was greater than the storm, rumbling off his chest like boulders bashing against each other.
"Never!" Your clawed fingers bore into his thick toffee-hued wrist, ripping apart flesh until you met his bone.
You could feel him shudder and his luminous marigold optics stirring like vicious lava seemed to illuminate like fireflies.
He raised his head and connected it with your own. For only a moment did you yield your breath before flickering flames became nothing but gloaming darkness.
With an awakening groan, your consciousness settled back in control, and the sensation of tough hide scraping against raw skin burned.
The taste in your mouth was acidic and tart, lacing bitterness to numb your tongue with every desperate swallow to quench your parched throat.
Your rose with the weight of ache and not armor.
Fur fell from your shoulders which allowed for violating frigid cool air to caress the bare skin of your body.
Not a cover of protection nor a simple undergarment shielded you from the prying eyes of the world.
The vulnerability of your situation had its grasp on your stomach, burrowing claws, so acutely pointed and squeezing down with all of their strength.
Gawking upon the surroundings, you noted that it was not the blood and mud-soaked domain and instead was a home(?)
It was like a ballroom with the way everything was so wide but not quite as elegant. The wooden walls were high and towering, with the awning elevated.
Charms and cleaned animal bones were hung like trophies...or security. What you lay upon was a massive bedroll appearing to be stripped of its soft bedding.
No wonder the hide rubbed you raw.
Perceivably, the abode you dwell in was not for no normal man. The size, the tribal furnishings, and the distinguishable stench of metallic rust were more than enough indications of where you were.
You hadn't perished on those grounds; you survived only to be dragged into the home of an Orc.
"If you move as such, you'll tear open your impairments."
A voice to your right stole your gaze, snapping your head in the direction of the speaker. A mammoth of an orc parted the door to enter, his thick yet bony fingers clenching around the rigid barrier.
He would have been even taller if it were not for the slight hunching of his back, most likely due to age.
Shielding your bare chest from his gaze, you shoved your back against the wall behind you as if attempting to mold within the fibers of its bark.
Your eyes bore into his irregular orchid iris' that traveled across his entire frame. With skin fair juniper, the coarse hair on his visible chest darkened it slightly.
Most of the Orc's burly frame was shielded beneath robes dyed ranges of wine, amethyst, and violet. The russet brown locks grown from his skull were lengthy, reaching down to his narrow hips that were braided so intricately.
No armor, not even a chest plate or gauntlet. This could only be an Orc Shaman, but even so, the minuscule amount of protection was uncommon.
"Nay, you already have. I smell the extravasate, thick and fulsome." The accent was dense; vowels strained like his tongue was heavy. His articulation must have been affected by the burly tusk protruding out of his mouth.
He stepped closer, arousing the tension within your lungs to augment.
It stuttered for a moment before you drove your body harsher into the wood, its bark tearing at bandages and scabbed skin.
"Refrain from any movement, or I'll have your head!" Your voice was that of cracking thunder, fresh like an incoming storm.
Even so, your legs were shaking. Bare without a single piece of protection, the vulnerability magnified like tremors.
The shaman raised a thick brow, the left side of his mouth quirking into an odd grin, like a reminiscing expression.
"Extirpate that fury; I bring you no harm, Crown Princess of the Athicivia Empire." As if you died, your limbs stiffened and seized. "I am far from a warrior. The only touch of these hands is to convalesce."
His tone was that of a wise old man, living past his years that only remained to pass on his wisdom; however, the scarcity of wrinkles would sway you of his true age.
He spoke your native tongue well, like he had studied for eons.
"Lies!" His short flat nose rose in a scrunch at the hiss from your lips. "I have seen your kind engage in skirmish, brawling like barbarians!"
"You recount the battles of the southern continent." He spoke as though correcting a child, and it accomplished nothing more than igniting a flame within that spurred your blood to boil. "Here, we Shamans refrain from savagery and abide by our gods' volition."
Swallowing thickly, your fingers tingled, and the sensation of liquid oozing from your back regained your awareness.
Indisputably, the open wounds would grow infectious and blighted. A great hindrance would come if it were left untended.
Crippled and impaired, there would be no way to serve your country dutifully. What use is a benefactor if your movements were that of a sloth? What use is a ruler if you are incapable of defending your homeland?
As much as you despised the assertion, you needed care.
"Fetch a woman of your kind. A man shan't gaze upon a woman not in his matrimony." Your words only yielded a bellowing laugh from deep within his gut.
The shaman directed his gaze to the tables in the middle of the room and scoured through its drawers beneath.
"The citizens of Athicivia continue to be so prude and prim! How your population continues to increase exponentially is something I cannot fathom!" He removed applications and bandages that he settled on the surface. "Merely mentioning the act of intercourse could drive you woman to faint!"
Heat sprouted from your face, spreading to your ears and bare shoulders that were barely protected by the pelt.
"Truly primitive, you Orcs! Relations are between two in private, not out in the open for any prying ear to hear!"
Chuckling again, the charms lining his clothing jingled in sweet tunes. "Do you always squabble with your enemies?"
"Only the uncivilized."
"Oh?" The shaman sought and turned his burly figure to face yours. His rose brow and quirked grin aged him slightly. "Too righteous and dignified for anything below your class, Crown Princess?"
You swallowed thickly, a bead of sweat trickling down your jaw from the numbing pain that no longer sedated the ache.
"Have you not seen it, Shaman? This, my state of undress in your presence will lead to my hanging. Crown Princess or not, I am to die now. I have failed His majesty; I have failed my empire."
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