𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍 ♕ ʙʙᴄ ᴍᴇʀʟɪɴ

♕ 𝖕𝖗𝖊𝖋𝖆𝖈𝖊 + 𝖈𝖆𝖘𝖙.

╔══════ ･ﾟ:* ♛ ･ﾟ:* ══════╗

ISHILD C. VARAN OF AYARENE. The eldest daughter to King Donovan, she was second in line to the throne. Born at the crack of lightning, the princess was forged with a will of steel and a heart of gold. Born to a dynasty of warlocks, her abilities were unprecedented.

Still she was underestimated. Still was she shunned by her siblings. She was nothing, to them. In the eyes of her countrymen, she was a chess piece for her father.

Magic coursed through her veins. Ishild knew it. There were days when she was frenzied by the feeling of it, like her blood had been replaced with magma. It was there, locked inside of her, screaming to be unleashed; but she couldn't free it.

Before her death, her mother had been a great comfort to Ishild. Evangeline Varan was the sister to the king of Camelot. He was a fearsome creature with a lust for mystic blood. She, on the other hand, simply desired peace among magic and non-magic. Her words had soothed the young princess on the days that she struggled.

Evangeline's death split the poor girl's spirit to the bone.

It was on the day of the funeral, that Ishild was handed her first weapon. It was a small, ornamental dagger- at least that's what her brother had said. Her mother had left it to her in her will, alongside a single slip of paper.

I CAN NO LONGER PROTECT YOU.
BUT YOU CAN PROTECT YOURSELF.

Ishild couldn't recall a day since that she had been without a weapon.

And when her eyes finally flashed gold, the entire world seemed to stand still and bow down at her feet. For no longer was she a feeble child crying out to her dead mother; Ishild Varan was a warrior.

Sixteen was when she received her first taste of war. A little old for a knight, but not at all old enough for a princess. Despite other's warnings and protests, Ishild stepped onto the battlefield on that misty morning, and fought until her head was swimming.

Her father couldn't have been prouder. They were as Athene and Zeus were- strategists. Evangeline's death had left a void in Ishild's heart, but her father's company made the agony bearable.

So when she was stripped from her happiness again, she swore vengeance. Mere days after her nineteenth birthday, the Great Donovan was found as a corpse. His chest was oozing with blood, his skin had paled to white. Barely three days had passed before Kellagh, the eldest Varan, had a ring of gold on his head.

The murder of Donovan seemed to slip under everyone's radar. No one questioned it- they only questioned Ishild when her grief began to consume.