~blood.queens~

⚔︎𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖋𝖔𝖚𝖗⚔︎

"Go in your tent again Valdaya!"
"Why should I?"
"Go dress yourself properly this time!"
"Why should I?"
"You're a warrior, dress like one!"
"I'm a women, and I'm a dress like one too."
"You look like a whore who is gonna lay men flat!"
"Who said i wont?"
"You know what i mean."
"Oh what then?"
"VALDAYA, I wont discuss it with you!"
"Ok then, I will go with this or not at all."

He looks kind of angry, I would say. And yes I admit, I look rather permissive, but I can show my body if I want to. And i wont get dressed again, just because some men can't handle it. But my father needs me in battle. They all do. So he will need to get along with a bit of skin showing.

We all line up for inspection. My father checks everyone's weapons, armoury and protection, looking for fallacy's and miscalculation. I line up next to Polytus, who inspects my armour, whistling and winking, while taking in the heavy knee up boots, under the long lace socks and the straps to my pants, with the fur linen, the belt, slightly under my bare stomach with a very, very short leather sheath barely covering anything at all.

The upper part, covers nothing but a little part of my breasts, leaving my chest and upper stomach bare, my burned sienna coloured skin shining in the evening sun. My heavy boots, ornamented with silver knee caps and buckles, have the same materials as my shoulder blades, their expanse making my shoulders the most protected section of my body. They stand out, their metal structure giving me body halt and supporting my spine and through that my whole body, with a long flat metal pole.

It may seem as if i were insufficiently protected, but its well calculated and preconceived. Silver, also ornamented and beautifully decorated gauntlets, shield my underarms, above black satin laced, elbow high gloves.

But the highlight are my twin swords, crossed strapped to my back, both of the pommels, beautiful embellished with silver metal strings, leather straps, with powerful symbols, gold spikes, and on the middle a bronze bull head, two massive silver horns as the stabilisers of my hilt.

They resemble my own. Mine have a little more curve to them and a light green shimmer. Just to say, I'm very, very proud of my horns and just to any other Andarri they are my biggest pride. Theyre making up my self-esteem, my greatest honour and probably it makes up my whole too big ego.

My father strides towards me, one dismissive glance at my clothing and then reaching out his hands. I grab behind me, carefully as handing over my baby's, laying Digitalis and Freya into his caressed hands. They are with my horns, by greatest property, both swords the mostly important things in the world to me.

They are part of me now, my family, my friends, my soulmates. I got Digitalis on my sixth birthday, a present of my father, naming him "Appointment with Death", his big dirty blade for slowly killing a man. His blade is double edged, jagged and slightly curved, giving me a chance too land on a body in different angels.

Freya is his opposite, a fine blade, her touch giving me a question to my heart, my soul answering by giving her opponents. It's important that a sword master must speak the ancient languages of the formed blade, these incantations giving a chance to choose an alliance. The most important bit is trusting not only yourself to handle the blade, but also trusting the blade to aim and land true.
The way a sword is expresses is at the end the accent of the heart that owns it.

All that makes Freya my Favourite, not only a thirst too kill as a bonding, but a more heavy and deeper rooted connection of a heart and soul. She is delicate, light weighed and flexible, seeming marvellously liquid when cutting through...anything really.

He shines a blue black, she a light bronze, silver shimmers, over a dark violet background. Her hilt is a rich forest, emerald green, exact my colours. Named after the goddess of beauty, war and death she is the perfect opposite to Digitalis and both combined are the most flicked and fiercest blades of history.

My father inspects both, giving me shudders as he turns them around too harshly, way to little careful. If one of them just gets a little scratch i can't assure that anything expect little shreds are left of my father.

He gives me a nod, going over to where all the already inspected soldiers are waiting.

—————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

She Stops singing, the euphoria still rushing through my whole body, my senses still not working as they should be.

I open my eyes, surprised that i didn't realise that I closed them before, letting me see into these eyes. Oh my god...these eyes. They are the blue of every dancing sky, little white clouds drifting like waves, infinite hues and shades of a newborn light.

She's shocked, surprised by my sudden attack, but she lets me, my fingers finding her waist as she pulls herself from the man to the hard wooden bench. My head slowly frees itself from the sort of hallucination and shocked from my behaviour, quickly breaking away from her, hastily tacking stumbled steps back.

Suddenly there's a hard jab in my back head and while turning I see one of the metal lamps. Then there's only darkness and loud voices, and her voice again, echoing in my head, alongside a feeling of our touching lips.