“We cannot carry on like this. You are killing people! Our people!”

A figure knelt bowed before the king. Broken, clutching her arms to her body. But the bright green of her hues struck like tempered steel to the gilded throne

Armor that once shone with pride, etched with the emblem of her country, was now mottled with dirt. Chain mail tangled and pierced through. Dried blood rimmed wounds. She shook, a house of cards in the verge of collapse. Her sword lay thrown at her side. Arms she could not take up again.

“Hm. Amusing, coming from the woman who can never die. You should be prepared to throw yourself into battle for this country. To slay the heathens that disobey me.”

“We are at war! We cannot slay innocents, not now!”

“Be silent!”

A slam of a palm against his throne, fury burned brightly across pale features. Old. He was aging. Stubborn and refusing to change until he passed the throne to the next man in line. One who would continue to burn and bruise this country to gain as he pleased.

“The people believe in their gods, I believe in their gods! What will you do with me then?!”

Eliza grit her teeth. Her pulse hammered in her ears, it was all she could hear above the echo of their voices in that desolate throne room. His grip on the kingdom was slipping. The Ottoman bishop hadn’t even bothered to return the offer of collaboration. It was over. She couldn’t fight any longer.

“You are MINE! Now ,SILENCE!”

That was it. She was young, she was foolish. Her purpose in this world may never be understood, but now more than ever, the fires from her youth were still stoked brightly. The stained glass window shone colored lights of false saints, of a God, so merciful and blessed be, demanding blood and sacrifice for dedication. And she wanted blood in return. A white knuckle grip fell to the iron hilt, and she stood. Metal clinked against itself as her legs pushed her forward.

Kill him. Kill this man. Take the throne. It’s rightfully yours!
ITS YOURS, TAKE BACK THE CROWN OF LIES THAT SITS UPON HIS BROW AND THROW IT TO THE WOLVES.

Fire ignited in her lungs with a scream that brought guards to their knees. Her hands guided by forces beyond her control. Her own body felt far away. A puppet. That’s all she was. For a king, for the gods. Someone was always pulling strings to make her behave. The lines blurred, what were her own desires? Vision fogged with the burn of tears, she couldn’t even see that her blade stopped just short of the kings neck. Chest heaved on shaky breaths as she simply couldn’t move forward. Locked in place. The voices banged and screamed in her skull to move forward and see this through, but her loyalty kept her from committing to spilling royal blood.

“Gods forgive me…”

Elizabeta whispered, tears rolling down her cheeks as the sword clattered to the ground. The only sound was the echo of metal against stone. Guards grabbed her by the wrists, roughly dragging her away from the throne as that damned man stared down at her with nothing more than an expression of mild disgust. “Put her away. She’ll resign eventually.” There was no more energy. Nothing left to fight as they pulled her limp form out of the throne room. Tangled locks hung about her face in a matted curtain as her shoulders shook. Was this all she was destined for? So close to breaking, but the merciful snap of blissful unawareness never came. Perhaps it would never. Perhaps her life was best spent in the stone tomb in the depths of the castle.

ÁLLVÁNY. ÁLLJ FEL ÉS HARCOLJ. TE GYÁVA!*

No….

ÁLLVÁNY!**

Something lurched through her body, a fist balled deep in her chest as she was thrown forward, grips broken as she tossed herself to the floor. A sickening crack as blood spattered across the floor where she face landed. It was too much. She wanted to give up! Let her give up! Lifting her head to squint at the light streaming in from the windows above, the coppery taste of blood swam through her senses. Muffled shouting, she was being grabbed again.
A vessel.
A nation.
Would she ever grown up to be simply.
A woman?

*Stand. stand up and fight, you coward
**Stand