A Bloody Crown

Chapter 1: Creation

8 Years Later

Blood dripped down into my mouth, splashing my white teeth with a dark stain. With a smirk, I stood back up, head still spinning, tightened my grip on my sword, and stepped toward him again.

It was a hard hit. One that had me seeing stars for seconds. I had laid there, feeling the blood running from my nose. I blinked, regaining my senses, feeling my extremities tingle, culling them to life. My blood felt like it changed. Changed within me. 

Listening to the laughing and jeering towards me. Combat was never my forte, not even as an athletic child. 

But I craved it. Wanted to be good at it. Prayed to the Cauldron to make me better. My father tried to take me out of all my fighting lessons, but mother never let him. Told him that it was part of my destiny.

I wasn't sure about that, but I hoped so. At this moment, I knew so.

As if some kind of instinct had been awakened, knocked ajar, I realized. Understood the battle. He swung, and I could see the sword's trajectory. Feel it, almost. My sword rose instinctively, clashing with his.

Sparks ricocheted off the steel, zinging as they flew.

Somewhere in the distance, I heard gasps. People murmuring.

Some form of strength activated, allowing me to drag the blades down, sending a shock through his body. We clashed again, holding our own, but this newfound determination I had outwilled his. I pulled out my other blade from the sheaths on my back, gripped it fiercely, and slashed it through his elbow, cutting off the forearm down.

I don't know what told me to do that.

He screamed hideously, dropping the blade and backing up, panic coursing through him. Trainers rushed into the ring, yelling at him and cursing at me. Screams of anger and pain shot through me.

His forearm and hand fell onto the training ring, hitting the dirt with a dissatisfying plop.

"GET HIM OUT OF HERE," someone shouted, their voice lined with fear. "He's going to bleed out."

All I could do was stare. Stare at the blood pooling onto the ground, spreading across the dirt arena. Seeping through the cracks and crevices towards me. The smell of iron rang harshly in the air, inescapable. 

He was being moved, I heard. Moved to the intensive part of the care facility in my palace. My father would pay for it, I think.

Someone approached me, their hands landing onto my shoulders. "What the fuck are you doing, Aelfrun? You could have killed him."

I blinked again, focusing back into reality. The medic. My friend- Kore. "I.. I. I don't-" I sputtered, smelling the blood again.

"Cauldron.." he muttered. "You must have knocked something loose when you fell. It was a nasty blow to the head, but I didn't think this bad. Come, we need to get you to the infirmary."

My black leathers were stained with blood on the front, little droplets dripping down onto my armor. It was artistic, in a way. The image of war.

Kore picked me up, laid me across his arms, my head laid against his shoulder. 

My eyelids began dropping, my vision going black. "Kore.." I mumbled over my fuzzy tongue.

Panic ensued. "Stay awake, Aelfrun. Duchess Aelfrun, look at me-"

24 hours later

I gasped, throwing myself upright. After breathing for a moment, I realized I was in my room. Dresses were hung up neatly in my opened closet, fighting leathers folded neatly into my dressers, and shoes scattered around the room in disarray. 

The curtains were pulled tightly, very little daylight slipping through. Dust settled on the floor under the black material, scattering when the curtains swayed.

My feet hit the cold floor beside my bed, sending shocks through me. Slowly, I stood, bracing myself for the impact of after-day soreness. Every part of me always screamed at the pain, my muscles and joints crying out for no more.

But it never came. I felt.. good. Ready to fight again.

Both of blades laid on the table, cleaned and polished, likely my father's request. Including the one I cut Azayzel's arm off with. I winced at the memory, but realized I didn't have as much remorse as I thought I would.

He is a douchebag, after all.

I slipped into a set of my fighting leathers gently, still concerned pain might rack my body. But it never came.

I stepped into my adjoining bathroom and grimaced- I may feel amazing, but my nose was purple. Not a cute color either, purple with yellow and green splotches for extra spice. The mirror, that was surrounded by dim candlelights, was not helping.

Shadows casted onto it, twisting my features into odd shapes.

With a sigh, I called for Kore with his magic bell, and began brushing my hair. After yanking on it for several minutes, he walked in.

"You called, Duchess?" He purred, grinning at my nose.

I sneered at him in the mirror, then winced at the motion. "Just fix it, will you?" I bit out, finally getting the last knot out of my dark brown hair. It was straight, and typically very tame, so I can't imagine what I went through in the last day for it to be so.. difficult.

He spun me around gently, then pulled a cream out of his medical bag, a thick yellow paste that smelled disgusting, and put a layer over the top of all the bruising.

"Should be fixed in the next few moments, my dear." Kore put the little vial back into his dark leather bag and looked back at me. "Soreness pills today?"

I shook my head. "Somehow, I feel.. okay. Better than I have in weeks, surprisingly."

His eyes narrowed at me. "I'll leave these here.. just in case. Marlia is up in arms about your state." He placed the bottle onto my bathroom vanity behind me. "In case you were wondering, Azayzel is being fitted for a new arm."

I balked slightly at the words. "Excuse me?"

Kore shrugged in response, picking up the medical bag. "Honestly, not sure." He leaned against the wall, his lips pursed. "Something about a mechanical arm."

"Where the hell is he getting that from?"

He smirked, his light lips curling slightly. "Jealous, Duchess?"

I rolled my eyes, turning back to the dimly lit mirror. "Never been jealous a day in my life," I replied sincerely, turning on the faucet for some cool water to wash my face with. 

A chuckle resounded behind me. "I suppose you wouldn't have much to be jealous of, my dear." 

My eyes narrowed in the mirror, but a small smirk danced on my lips. "Just answer the question."

Suddenly, all expression dropped from his face. "I don't know. Somewhere... not human."

"Kore."

"I'm serious, Aelfrun. Things are changing, something is going on. I've heard rumors of a human being taken into the fae lands, whispers of war and revolution."

Gently, I patted my face dry with the cotton towel before turning around to face him. "What has my father said?"

Kore shook his head. "I'm not sure he knows."

My eyes flared. "I must tell him, Kore. I have a responsibility-"

"No, you don't."

"I do not think you can tell me what I do or do not have," I replied calmly.

His head tipped in respect. "Of course, Duchess. I am simply reminding you of what your title means."

With a gentle snort, I turned back to the mirror and put moisturizing balm on my face. "You may go, Kore. Thank you for your services this morning, I am quite satisfied with my nose."

A small bow, then he was gone.

I bit my lip and looked at myself once more. A girl with dark brown hair, light eyes, and dark skin. Twenty-two years old. Duchess of the Human Lands, crowned by the Mortal Queens.

Duchess Aelfrun, the title I didn't ask for.