Suddenly, we were surrounded by men, though at the time they looked to me like demons. Their pale, tattoo-laced arms bulged with muscles behind dark leather armor. Their hair, braided just like yours, Thalia, tumbled down their backs in tangled waves. Their faces were lined with deep blue ink, masking their sharp features. Before I could scream, a piece of fabric was forced in my mouth and tied behind my head. Before I could let loose a volley of uncoordinated kicks and punches, my limbs were pulled back and bound. Before a blindfold fell over my eyes, I looked at you one last time, and Thalia, I couldn’t find any remorse in you. 

**

By the time the blindfold was removed I knew I was miles away from the palace grounds. I’d been flung over someone's shoulder and carried like a limp sack of flour for what felt like days, but logically I knew it had only been hours. After exhaustion had taken hold and I’d stopped struggling, I noticed the outside world had grown brighter behind the blindfold, indicating the sun was in the sky.  

Finally, I was thrown to the ground and the cloth was removed from my eyes, though the gag in my mouth remained firmly in place. After my vision had the chance to adjust, I realized I was in a small camp of some sort. Cloth and animal skin tents were propped up in a loose circle around me, and as I soon noticed, so were my captors. 

“I can’t believe it,” one of the men said. “We finally did it, we caught the princess.”

“There is no ‘we’ in this equation,” another one of them, the largest in shoulder and stature, with pale blond hair knotted in a long tassel down his back, interrupted. “We have young Thalia to thank for this victory.” 

You glanced down at me then, saw me bound and gagged on the ground like a hunter's kill, and simply crossed your arms and looked away.    

“Thank you, Bertolt.” You nodded to the giant man. “Oh, and by the way, it’s Queen now,” you added, without a second glance in my direction. 

“What do you mean?” A second man, one older than the rest, as I assumed from the whitened streaks in his auburn beard, asked curiously. 

“Why do you think I asked for a few more weeks? I was waiting for her coronation,” you answered. I felt my chest tighten, and clenched my fist, viciously digging my nails into my palm to prevent the tears building in my eyes from falling. 

I won’t let you see me cry, I thought as I lay there in front of you, forcing my fury to overpower my pain. The men circling me looked at you in shock. One in particular I hadn’t noticed before, one who had been reclining disinterestedly on a deerskin, with dark brown hair and blue eyes identical to yours, stood abruptly. He sauntered over and grabbed your shoulder pulling you roughly around to face him.

“You mean to tell me we have the Queen in our possession?” he asked incredulously. He paused for a moment, face hidden in shadow, before a wide, unsettling smile broke out across his face. He gripped you tightly by your shoulders and looked at you in adoration. 

“Thalia, you weasel!” he cried, and your cold, calculating face shifted into a crooked smile mirroring his. “You’ve won us the Queen!” 

“Not only that, you’ve won us our war,” the older man added.

It was then I was able to bite through the gag, and it was then I lost my composure. 

“You’ve won nothing, you barbaric scum!” My voice rumbled in my throat. “All you’ve won is the right to die by my hands!” I sounded odd even to my own ears, as if the words did not come from me, but rather from something deeper, older, and far more powerful than that helpless and bound little girl. Both you and the men all turned to look at me at once, and I forced myself to meet all of your gazes in turn. Suddenly, the dark-haired man, the apparent leader of your merry little band, began laughing coldly. For all your similarities, your brother's laugh opposed yours, Thalia. Yours used to be warm, like dried reeds clashing against each other, but his was as chilling as a winter river, and twice as unruly. 

Though the man was younger and less broad than the others, he gave off an aura of unwavering superiority and strength, not unlike the leader of a pack of wolves. As he walked towards me, I got the feeling he was just as bloodthirsty. 

“So, our kitten has claws then,” he remarked as he crouched down in front of me, grabbing my chin and tilting my head back and forth, blue eyes running across my face without seeing me, as if examining my worth. It was the same look I frequently received from my suitors, as though I was a nice piece of meat, not a human with a soul. I hated that look. 

“And you,” I growled, eyes locked with his. “You will be the first to die.” 

Before I could process it, his expression turned sour. In an instant, that cold, cruel smile vanished from his face, and I heard the hit before I felt it. A sharp crack and I collapsed onto my side, slamming into the dirt without my hands to catch me, still being tied behind my back. My head spun and I blinked furiously, trying desperately to shake the earth from my eyes, to force myself up, to not look weak. The pain bursting from my cheek was a wonderful motivator. I sat up hesitantly.

“Coran, enough,” one of the older men chided. “Look, you’ve scratched her.” As he said that I felt something warm roll down my cheek and drip off my chin onto the ground. Coran glanced down at his hand, where a jagged iron ring set with garnets glittered. 

“Serves her right,” he muttered, before looking down at me, his blue eyes shifting like oil. “I ought to remove that tongue of yours, it’s grown too bold for a helpless little girl. Just wait until we get you back to the stronghold, you won’t need a tongue to do the work of a slave.”

“Aren’t we trading her for her land and livestock?” The older man with the russet beard asked gruffly, shifting uneasily. 

“All in good time, Remus,” Coran continued. “We’ll have our fun with her first.”

**

That night the men partied, celebrated, and congratulated you. They ate dried, salted meat, and drank from flasks they had tucked in their coats. I was given water by the large man, Bertolt, but food they felt no need to spare. I watched as you all sat around the fire you built, while I myself shivered in the shadows. It wasn’t until well past midnight that the group of revelers became drowsy, and stumbled off to go pass out on their pelts like drunkards in an alleyway. But you, Thalia, you came to me. 

You were obviously still drunk, your usual fluid movements clumsy and awkward. You slumped and sat down a few feet in front of me, hair hanging lazily over your eyes. 

“How’re you, Princess?” you asked, voice deeper and slower than usual. I returned your question with my own, the one that had been burning in my chest like acid.

“Did you ever really care about me? Or was all of it, was every...” I paused for a moment, willing my emotions out of my voice. “Was everything just a lie?” 

You seemed to ponder this, chin tilted toward the sky in thought. The moon flashed in your blue eyes as if it belonged there. After a moment you collapsed onto your back, your arms crossed behind your head, addled mind becoming lost in the stars. Just when I started to think you’d fallen asleep, you answered at last. 

“I don’t know.” You paused for a long time. “I had fun with you, I know that. Maybe in another life, things could have ended differently.” You quickly sat up again, eyes locking with mine. “But that is not this life. I owe my clan, my family, everything. Your people on your pedestals of wealth and land, you’ve treated us like gutter rats for decades. It’s time for that to change.” Leaning in closer, so close I could taste the alcohol on your breath, you continued. “So, I suppose I should thank you, Eleanor. Your naivety might finally put an end to this war.” With that, you turned to go, and I lunged. 

I grabbed onto your belt with all the force I could muster, just enough to hold you in place, “Please, Thalia, don’t do this,” I whispered. You looked down at me with a cold spark lighting up your eyes even through your intoxication. “Eleanor, it’s already been done. There’s no use fighting anymore, it’ll only end worse for you.” You then removed my hands from your belt, and disappeared into your tent. 

Oh, sweet Thalia, you must have been tipsy indeed, otherwise you would have easily sniffed out my true intention, for the second you became hidden from view, I opened my hands to reveal the knife I’d stolen from your belt. I made quick work of cutting the ropes that had tied my wrists, then moved on to my ankles. Quiet as a fox I fled the camp, and began the long trek back to the palace. 

**

It took me nearly two days to make it back. I didn’t know how to navigate the forest. Up until that point I never had to. Anytime I left the palace grounds an escort of trained guards followed like hunting hounds. Luckily, I did know roughly how to orient myself using both the sun and various constellations. I silently thanked my astronomy tutor. 

When I returned, bloody, filthy and exhausted, I was immediately rushed to the infirmary, where I stayed for a full week, even after I regained my strength. The advisors wanted me where they could keep a close eye on me. When I was questioned, I told my advisors I had been kidnapped by one of my suitors, who had been a barbarian spy. The suitors stopped after that. Unfortunately, so did any modicum of freedom I formerly had. Their worst fears had been realized, therefore I was told to stay put, stay quiet, and stay docile. But I couldn’t, not anymore.

**

Over the next ten years, my life became a battleground, both literally and figuratively. I fought my way into the knights’ cohorts and trained among them against my advisors’ wishes. I earned the respect of my comrades at arms through combat. Rather, I proved I should be respected by putting them, one by one, in their place at my feet, beneath the blade of my glaive. Soon, my gender became irrelevant to those closest to me, replaced by pure admiration. I mastered the blade through force of will alone. I became known among the knights as Little Dragon, and I bore that name like a badge of honor. 

Then came the declaration of war from Lord Amimon, a young warlord in search of more gold to line his pockets. I was locked in my chambers against my will, and bound to my bedpost under the order of my advisors. They didn’t want me doing anything rash, or so they said. Sir Galivon, one of the knights and a close comrade of mine, snuck onto the balcony and made quick work of severing my bindings. I then rallied the other knights, fresh from the training grounds, and made quick work of Amimon and his troops. They scattered like starlings chased by a cat, and Amimon swore his allegiance to my name in exchange for his life. This was my first true victory, Thalia. The first of many in preparation for you. 

After the skirmish, I relieved my advisors of their positions. I could not trust those who would have me bound to the bed like a concubine. In a blind rage at his demotion, Sir Steffan, the eldest of the advisors, charged me with the intention of teaching me a lesson. His head fell from his shoulders and rolled twice before coming to a stop at my feet. I made eye contact with every remaining advisor in turn as I cleaned my blade. The fear in their eyes confirmed I would see no more insolence, nor would I ever see their faces in that palace again. 

With no time to lose, I built my own war council. Those I trusted, those who shared my goal. The years slipped by like sand between one's fingers, didn’t they Thalia. Yet, your face was still the most vivid image in my head. It still is. 

Finally, the day came. The one I trained for, yearned for, made ready for. The day of war and the day I finally got to see you again.