"Crowns topple easily. Thrones crumble like dust. Hearts cease to beat. Thorns draw blood."
In a country torn into two, there should have been no room for mistakes. Especially not at the very core of the royal family. That was what she was. Yes, a...
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She was young. Too young to have known about loss and yet she did. She was too young to have known about wars, famines, deaths, and yet she did. She was also too young to have taken a life.
And yet, she had.
It was the eve of her younger brother's birthday. Oleg's tenth birthday to be exact. It was to be a big event, with foreign dignitaries and massive acts invited to give praise to the future king of Ravka.
Meanwhile, the princess of Ravka was still in her room. Barely eleven years of age, with a spitfire attitude enough to burn the whole Grand Palace down. She struggled against her caretaker's hold, both of them frustrated enough as it is.
"Please stop! You're tightening it too much!" Princess Irina clawed at the blue gown being tightened around her small frame, its fabrics coating her like a second skin.
She could feel the metal hooks, scratching the pale skin of her back. It was sure to add to the red marks already marring her body.
Her caretaker shook her head, teeth clenched angrily. " Blue is the color your father wanted the family to wear. Do not be a brat!"
"You're hurting me!" The princess fought back, thrashing as the woman's hand tightened on her wrist. Irina shook with anger, her golden braids flinging around her head like a nest of rabid snakes.
"You will learn to behave and to do as you're told, foolish child." The old woman hissed, drawing blood as her nails scraped across Irina's arm.
She would later claim it as an accident, she thought. It had always been her excuse when she supposedly went too far. Unfortunately, she would never get the chance to use such an excuse again.
At the sight of the red liquid leaking down her pale arms, Irina let out a loud scream. She pushed away from the old woman, putting her hands together in a somewhat natural gesture.
As her caretaker came closer, Irina clutched her arms and spoke. "Get away from me! Get away from this room! Jump out of the window if you have to!"
The woman felt her heartbeat speed up, her eyes widening in fear as she felt that same terror begin to choke her. All of a sudden, she could not breathe. No air would enter her lungs.
She pushed the princess away from her, making Irina fall on her back. The breath was knocked from her lungs, making her gasp.
The princess forced herself to sit up, only to horrifically witness her nanny, her tormentor, fling open the large glass windows and jump to her death. Irina opened her mouth to release a scream before her eyes rolled to the back of her head.
//
The event went on as if nothing happened.
As if a woman did not just die in the palace grounds.
As if the princess was not found unconscious with pink crescent-shaped marks on her wrist.
As if the king did not take one look at the scene before and swore to find a solution. To deny anything that had ever happened that night.
Princess Irina woke in her bed many hours after, her big blue eyes looking up at her concerned father.
"Papa?" She piped up, confused.
"I will fix this, Irina. We will fix this. No one will have to know about any of this, about any of what you can do. Understand?" King Andrei spoke softly, pushing back her golden hair.
Princess Irina's brows furrowed. "But Papa I-"
"What, Irina?" He asked.
She found that she could not say what she truly wanted. That the cruel old woman had been hurting her and that she deserved what had happened to her. That she had never felt more powerful than she had at that moment.
That she had felt every cell, every drop of blood, and that she liked the way that she held that life in her hands. She liked the way the power took over her. She relished it. But she could not say it.
