Weight of the Crown { A Leonardo fanfic}

Sinners Play As Saints

The throbbing pain in Grayson's head doesn't subside as she wanders through the village. The judging and hating look thrown her way, she ignores. Or maybe she was too drunk to notice or care. Men glare, their eyes flickering red. Women hide their children behind them, some covering their eyes. 

Grayson's left-hand fingers curl into a fist before relaxing once more. A man steps in front of the girl, blocking her path. His curly, red beard stinks of old food and his hot breath reeks of a stronger drink than the young girl's breath smelled of. 

"Get out of my way." Grayson slurs, her voice emanating her utter annoyance. "You think you're so tough eh, girl?" The man speaks, his strong breath nearly knocking Grayson unconscious. "What do you want?" She asks. The man steps forward, towering a couple of heads taller than Grayson. 

A small crowd forms around the two in the village square. "You think you can just sit upon the throne and think you are better than the rest of us?!" He shouts, his eyes turning a light green colour. "I don't think you should be allowed to sit there." He growls, his gaze narrowing. 

Grayson, too drunk to care or process the man's words, shrugs. "Ok, thanks for your consideration." She continues to walk past the man but he grabs her arm and yanks her back, shoving her to the ground. 

"Look at you!" He taunts. "You're drunk, you're a bastard pup unfit to rule this kingdom." The crowd watches in near silence. A few people chat among themselves. Grayson stands up. The pounding in her head growing louder and louder. "Like I said," Grayson hisses through her teeth. "Get out of my way, Crax brain." 

But the man doesn't move. "You don't get it, runt." He growls. "You're more idiotic than I thought." The large man bellows. "I'm challenging you for the role of Alpha!" 

Grayson rolls her eyes and laughs. "You think you can take my role from me?" She shakes her head, stumbling forward. "You aren't the first to try to steal the crown from of my head." She looks up and is only able to inhale before the man's shoulder rams into her chest, knocking her down. 

Grayson's head feels like it has been split open. This was the closest to sober she's been in hours. Red hot rage flows through the girl's veins and she stands, running at the man, dodging his oncoming fist and slamming her own fist into his jaw. 

With a groan the man stumbles back, only to dash at her once more, shouting a battle cry. Maybe it was his clumsy footing or the fact that he was way more intoxicated than Grayson, but the young girl was able to sidestep his attack and kick his back, causing him to fall forward, slamming his head on the cement fountain.

Grayson's chest heaves. She looks up to see a woman run at her, a machete-like weapon in her hand. Swiftly, the girl unsheaths her own blade and deflects his blade. But this woman wasn't drunk. As Grayson swings her blade down upon the woman, she grabs the girl's sword wrist. Grayson's slow mind can't react in time before the older woman brings her knee up to Grayson's stomach. 

The young alpha doubles over, gasping. The woman shoves her back, kicking her down to the ground. The woman turns to the crowd, smirking triumphantly. Grayson's cheek in scraped and bleeding. Her grip on the sword tightens and she pushes herself up to her hands and knees. "Hey." She mumbles, standing shakily.

"I don't give up that easily." She says, breathing hard. "She wants more!" Someone in the crowd shouts. "Oblige her!" The woman grins, her eyes glowing a light pink. "You should have stayed down, runt." She says with a grin, twirling her machete. 

The woman swings her machete blade at the girl, to which the girl ducks and counters, arching her blade to the woman's neck. The older woman grabs Grayson's forearm, stopping her attack. After smirking evilly, the woman slams the hilt of her blade into the girl's ribcage, causing Grayson to grunt in pain.