Falling From You

Chapter 9

“Miss Luthor, please do sit still, I am trying to get the proper measurements for your Solstice Ball attire.” The seamstress spoke with pins in her mouth and a measuring tape between her fingers as she sized the brunette’s shoulders.

“Sorry...”

Lena hated any sort of ball attire, it was always so stuffy and tight, oh and there was always never enough room for her junk in those tight ass formal riding pants. It was quite annoying, Lena stared at herself in the full-length mirror standing on a platform in her sports bra and a pair of athletic boxers. Her emerald green eyes scanned down her body slowly, the bandages were off for the most part, the only one left was the one around her shoulder a deeper cut lay underneath still healing, the bruising was still that pretty intense purple and blue and was in weird patterns that ran down her whole body. At least most of the bruising on her face had gone away, and she looked semi normal. The seamstress must have thought she was a psychopath.

Finally, the tailor had finished, and Lena could put her clothes back on, she thanked the woman and apologized for all the fidgeting. She made her way across the kingdom to her old warrior quarters, Kara was also getting fitted for a gown and some shoes, so the brunette decided to fill her time until her bond was finished. She walked down the path to the little stone hut that she had called home decades ago. The brunette pushed the wooden door open and hesitated in the doorway for a moment. Taking a deep breath, she walked in taking in the familiar surroundings. The walls were bare, just as she had left it, there was a tiny desk, a small table, a chair, a bed, and a bunch of papers sprawled out all over the place. Battle strategies and such, some lists of warriors who she had wanted to take into battle things like that.

There were weapons and swords of all shapes and sizes lined along the far wall across from the small bed. There were different types of warrior’s gear, different suits of armor for specific types of fighting. She made her way to the small desk tucked away in the corner, she leaned her palms against it letting out a shaky breath. She pulled one of the drawers open and pulled out a case, inside lay all her metals. Metal’s for bravery, strategic skills, strength… dozens of them sat all laid out neatly inside the box. Lena set them aside for a moment and reached into the drawer once more pulling out a picture of her mother holding her just after she had been born. She gripped the frame in her hands as she walked to her bed sitting against the mattress.

All she ever wanted to do was be a woman her mother could be proud of, and she was so afraid that she wasn’t meeting that potential. Diana had always told her that her mother, Lillian was the most selfless, most beautiful soul anyone would have had the pleasure of coming across. Lillian was strong, and fearless, never backing down from what she believed in. Diana always made sure that Lena knew how much Lillian truly loved her, and that she was with her always. There was always a part of Lena that was angry, she hated that she didn’t have the chance to meet her, truly, to be able to hug her or show her how much she had grown as a person, and as a warrior. But she knew that her mother gave her life to protect Lena, and every other angel in the high kingdom. It didn’t really make it easier, but as a warrior she new the risks that were involved.

When Lena fell…she had lost all hope, she thought her mother would be turning over in her grave, turning her back on her in the spirit world. It took the brunette a long time to come out of that…dark place. She decided that even though she had screwed up and she had taken a life that wasn’t going to define her. She was determined to prove that the Luthor name was not going to be tarnished, and disgraced. So, she built L-Corp, creating something that would help people, that would save those who could not save themselves just like her mother had done. Tears welled up in her eyes, they fell against the glass that encased the picture.

“I hope…I hope you are proud of me Mother, all I ever wanted to do was to prove that I was better, that I was worthy of being called your daughter.” She sighed letting the tears fall against her cheeks as she set the picture down on her bedside table. She shook off the tears and ran her fingers through her hair, she straightened up and wiped her face. That was enough self pity and wallowing for one day, she stood and walked over to the far wall inspecting her weapons slowly. Her mind drifted to the thought of the ball and a groan left her lips.