Fyra (First Draft)

Eleven

With every beat of her heart, the weight on Fyra's shoulders grew. She was being consumed by all of her fears and self doubt. The walls she had built were pressing her tight.

She wrung her hands as the dread pooling around her became all too evident on her face. She couldn't let that kind of emotion show at the ball tonight. It could be her downfall. She couldn't let her annoyance or anger show should her temper snap. If she slipped up, it could cost her life.

The ticking clock on the mantle seemed to get louder every second. It taunted her: displaying the dwindling minutes before she would begin preparing for the source of her troubles.

Tick, tock, they'll see right through you.

Tick, tock, you're already dead.

Tick, tock, if he truly knew you.

Tick, tock, he'd have your head.

Estelle and Flora would come at seven, an hour before the commence of the ball. Seven, the hour that was rapidly approaching.

Fyra held her wrists out before her, staring at the brand on the left then the runes decorating the right. Invisible to those whose magic had no bond to hers, the swirling lines of midnight ink were the only chains holding back the monster that was her magic.

At birth, all children of magical bloodlines were marked with the rune corresponding with their affinity. This rune, was known as the anima, the soul rune.

The anima was used to channel and control the power slumbering in all magic users. Runes were nearly always proudly displayed by sorcerers, sorceress, and their children. It's what made them so easy to hunt down.

Her soul rune started with a vertical line that ran down to form a small triangle that circled counter clockwise to crest then loop out to the left. It marked her as a fire user. Beneath her anima, there was a masking rune. It didn't completely hide the other mark, it just deflected attention from it. The rune resembled a triangle. Two lines ran up to intersect each other, and a third line connected to the right line bisected the left. From there it shot out horizontally, completing the rune.

Runes could be drawn in any ink, with any tool, though the ancient branding tools, which were the most effective at creating runes that channeled power, had long been destroyed. Most runes faded over time, leaving only pale scars where they had once been, but the most powerful were permanent once activated by the touch of a magic user.

She hadn't purposely channeled her magic in ages, though it tended to lash out when her emotions got the better of her.

She couldn't let her emotions get the better of her.

Fyra stood, walking with purposeful steps to the window. Her arms tightened with effort as she budged the stubborn thing open bit by bit. Humming the comforting lullaby she remembered from her childhood, Fyra's heart rate slowed, and the air that had seemed so stifling cooled when the frigid night air danced into the room.

Fyra didn't hear the chime of the bell as the seventh hour came. Her mind was too lost in the memories the sweet and gentle lullaby carried, too lost in her newfound readiness to pull up the facade that would be her salvation.

•••

When Estelle walked into the room, Flora trailing close behind, Lady Fyra wore only her drawers and chemise. She was seated upon her bed, staring at her blank wrists with ghosts in her eyes.

The only marks of the suffering Estelle knew, but had not been told, the girl had endured, were the milky scars dancing along her arms and back, and the glimmer of constant agony in her gaze. Fyra hid her pain well. But Estelle could see the heavy mask she wore, the mask that was too heavy for one of her youth to bear. Estelle could see it, even if she couldn't understand it.

Despite the age in those eyes, and scars that made her only more beautiful, the red haired girl was still kind at heart. Fyra knew Estelle and Flora's names, which meant something in a world where people like them were considered about as important as the horses in the stable. They were necessary, but replaceable, hardly people at all. Fyra treated them not as invisible, or as inferior, but as friends.

Fyra's head rose, and a tired smile rose to her lips. "Thank you for coming, Estelle, Flora."

They both curtsied, though they knew Fyra would protest.

"Don't curtsy to me," she said, a note of bitterness creeping into her voice. Estelle realized that Fyra didn't believe herself worthy of titles, bows, and gowns. It was ironic, considering she was the one of few people Estelle didn't mind bowing to. Privilege was handled best in the hands of those who didn't desire it.

Estelle set her basket down, pulling out Fyra's gown with gentle care. "Let's get you into your gown then." Her smile was full of maternal warmth that she hoped the girl saw. Fyra truly needed someone who saw beyond the mask.

After Estelle pulled the gown over her head, Fyra glanced in the mirror. She clasped her hands in front of her, straightening her spine and scooping her face into blankness.

"You look positively royal when you stand like that." Estelle said, smoothing down the back of the gown with her hands.

Fyra's expression remained serene as she smiled slightly, but her hands clenched ever so slightly, and for a moment, a battle flashed behind her eyes. "Thank you."

Flora then asked Fyra to sit, and began pulling her hair into an elaborate braid accentuated with golden rosette pins. "Your hands are skilled," Fyra said.

"Thank you. My mother taught me," Flora said, careful to omit the title that brought Lady Fyra sadness, though she couldn't comprehend why.

"We'll be leaving you now, Lady Fyra," Estelle said. Fyra didn't bother to correct Estelle on her manner of address. As of now, she was just another polished Lady of court, a porcelain doll that was meant to be silent and beautiful.

"Thank you," Fyra whispered finally, the simple two syllables heavy with the weight of the words she held back.

She had been dressed for a ball. And now she would carry on to a battle that was just as deadly as ones fought with swords.

A/N: Hello readers! Hope you are having in amazing day! If not, I hope your day brightens! <3

The media picture shows the runes on Fyra's arm would look like. Funny story: I came up with a lot of the runes by looking at the notes I had written in class. My chicken scratch was so amazingly awful that I got those (and more) from the notes. :)

I can't wait to share the ball scene  with you! I will try to get it out within a week.

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