Elevine sat in her usual chair. The velvet cushion made of moss and oak that smelled of spring which seated her in front of polished stone. The gleaming rock detailing her tangled, golden knots that stretched to her waist as she yawned her indifference at its judgement. Leaf lined floors of carpet strewn across oaken boards beneath her small feet, the clirp and chirp of birdsong dancing outside the far away window shuttered closed. Its existence more a reminder than a blessing. Locked and nailed shut some months ago.

  She sighs, taking fingers then comb through her tattered mats from a long night of rest, before spshing her small face with water. Even at 8, it wouldn't do good to go out without keeping up appearances. And even if mother and... that man... had dismissed her maids, she would set the example. A turn of her hips to shift the vision, a four-post bed that calls to her even after refreshment. Wooden and rge in make, curtains draped in inviting fashion that Elevine falters at - for a moment - before waddling down her nightgown and adorning a formal dress.

  Again, the smooth and reflective stone greets her. This time taking in her rge, honeyed eyes. Angur and pointed ears. Round face ending in a soft touch to her chin. Golden, now straightened out, hair folding behind her in glorious waves to her middle. And wrapped in all of that was a gorgeous green robe - only holding a couple moth holes - was her. The crown princess to the Elven Kingdoms. To forests wide and far, knowledge deep and vast. To magic.

  All of that, and of her, kept inside this gilded room for too many moons to count. The whispers of tree and vine silent to her as she asked 'How long?'. The squirrels and birds too frightful to suffer her presence. A mere child, imbued with the pressings of earth and soul, cowing nature itself without a breath.

  It would be funny if it were not so lonely.

  The thought is kicked aside with the hem of her dress. Green glistening fabric flowing fwlessly as she approaches the door and... waits. And waits. And waits. The passing of sun and temper of life outside shifting from radiant morning to amber dabbled hue before a knock arrives.

  Crisp. Singur. It rasps on the wood etched into stone and dened by bars. A soft voice coming from the other side of the impenetrable barrier. One that dies to be sundered.

  "Ele? I have come to fetch you for your birthday dinner. I... I am sorry I did not write or sing tely."

  A scoff from the child's lips on the other side of absolution. At the repeated memory of sweet words sung between stones. Of melodies containing hope and promise. At pleas for it to continue or for release, neither of which were given.

  "Songs would not save me from this, nor can you. Apparently."

  Silence. Deep and shallow all the same before the smaller voice speaks again.

  "... I hope it is a good dinner, at least."

  "Y-yes!!" The more mature voice sounds from the other side of freedom. "Yes! It is wonderful, it is most splendid. I-I will unlock the door now, okay Ele?"

  Light beckons its blinding fury from the slim crack of wood to stone, shifting into something the young girl shields her eyes from momentarily. A deliberate tactic, even if she was prepared for it, as two iron cd men rush in to bind her wrists in chains.

  An almost comical scoff scuffles from the child. Juxtaposed beneath the two behemoths of guards. "And here I thought we to have a loving affair as a family. Yet here are two uncles already making the move on me."

  The reaction isn't caught as the blindfold slips over her eyes, but the elegant and tall woman a perfect match for her given some years stifles a sob. Hand to mouth, hand to stomach. Like she doesn't know whether to cry or to vomit. The only indication the regret and remorse in her eyes as the guards haul her child to her feet, and down the hall.

  The procession follows its pcid pace due to short legs as well as trembling ones. The knocks of stone on heel the only passing of time in metronome pattern.

  In a rip of cloth and fsh of light, the child is returned to sight and freed from her chains. An extravagant feast of boar, herb, mushroom, and fowl awaiting her on a wooden table. A table deep and long, stretching the endless bounty upon rows of chairs without backs, and seated by none. None save the one at the head of the wooden expanse.

  Marble pilrs rising to the ceiling in ten-foot increments. Stretching to what must be a hundred-foot high, vaulted arches that hold the snted roof adorned in stained gss. The walls interspersed in the same. The only silent attendants, aside from the metal cd men woven between them.

  The man at the end of the opulence sits with ashen gray hair to his waist, falling in silky ribbons that defy his age. Wrinkles set and dark circles permeant. Sallow, sunken skin worn from age or from stress. Or both. Frail frame and faultable demeanor. Tarnished crown atop his head as he raises his dull grey eyes and regards the new arrivals.

  His eyes do light with recognition at the green dress. At the small form before him. And then dim once more in regret.

  "Elevine." He rasps out in gravel den gasps. "You have not-"

  A wheezing fit that sees his hand to chest. No one moves or aides him. Not the child, not the mother, and not the guards or rounded ear attendants stationed at the walls.

  "You have not renounced your magic. As was decreed upon us by the Humans. This is your final chance. Begone with our ways and join us in supper." He finally finishes between chokes. Death a faint finger away from frolicking in such a long-lived life subdued.

  The child steps forward, picking up a knife in one hand and stabbing it into the boar carcass nearest her.

  "I have not. I will not abandon our people or our history. Short as I have known it, father. And I will never join you."

  The boar erupts in fmes, gasps around the table from the sheltered servants but not the mother. No, the taller woman behind her only sheds a tear.

  "Then." The decrepit dictator states with lolling eyes. "You have chosen death."

  Knights of iron erupt from their spots and through the massive double doors into the chamber. Striking down any who get in their way as they approach the child. Sun embzoned on their armor as Elevine gasps. An iron hand coming to grip her throat amidst the sudden chaos.

  "To death, heretic!!" The masculine voice commands as his gauntlet shrinks closer. Fear and adrenaline waging a war inside before a *Cng!* of metal on metal resounds in her ear.

  A candebra leveled to the ground by the woman who holds the child's face. She turns to look at the stunned progeny, sweat stained hair and heaving chest. "Run."

  And so she did. Ducking and weaving through the maelstrom as servants spilt blood for her. Acrid copper suffusing the air on every swing of bde she avoids, every yelp of death she uses for cover. Clouded mind constantly running as she sought the quickest exit. The doors to the chamber.

  The double oaken doors barely budge, but yield enough for her to slip past one of them as she shoulders her weight to it. Frantic gasps of cleaner air not soaked by blood greet her. Freedom. Peace. Not nearly in the way she wanted, but garnered all the same.

  The long marble pathway before her lined in trees and leading to a shimmering green portal offering her freedom. That is, until her long ears pick up something her eyes overlooked.

  The clink of metal. Iron shifting. Bde unsheathing.

  "Looks like one of the knife ears got away~. This was supposed to be the whole family court, so it must be some 'princess' or somethin'." A slinky voice slips into the air. Coated in skin sked venom and dubious want. Elven eyes spasm to take in the missing teeth, pointed hair, and nude if not for leather armor demeanor of the voice.

  "Looks like~." Another voice chimes, female and imposing. Harsh. Looking to break a new toy as her full pte armor adorned in suns shifts and settles before she leans down. "Sure looks like a princess~."

  "Enough." A further off voice chimes as the child trembles below. "We have orders. Kill any who escape. She escaped. Kill her." A snap of the book he was reading draws attention to his robes. Dusty and dark, pointed hat on his head and staff to his side. Regret fshing in his brown eyes as his longer yellow hair waves behind him. "Sorry kid. I mean it."

  Is... is this it? A life drawn to a box only to be splintered and then shredded? Of wanting more and wanting less? Of holding the st true fme of pride for her people just to for it to be silenced once and for all?...

  No.

  Wind rushes, billowing the cape and robes of the human with a staff. Past the sneery gaze of the corrupt human with daggers in his teeth and hand. Underneath the armor of the human woman leering for pain.

  "I will not die here." The wind picks up, lifting the other two in arm but the man with a staff holds firm, steady. He gives Elevine a look, incomprehensible, before a blip of light sees him out of this space, this reality. The other two filing in the torrents now summoned as cries echo across the courtyard.

  "But you will." A rush of blood, streaming down her nose and off her lips as two bodies get instantly turn to diced meat freshly sliced from the wind. Gore and viscera showering the child as she gasps in fatigue. But not in remorse.