Queen Of Rimaal

Their knives glittered under the sun, determination and ability oozing from them as they both moved in a circular motion. The Prince's watchful eyes locked with the stranger's. He surely needed to quench his thirst. The thirst for blood. His sword itched, it longed for blood. The red liquid that had unique smell. That which caused lots of cowards to feel nauseous.

Sounds of the heavy metals colliding against one another were heard often but suddenly they stopped when the Prince's sword tore apart the stranger's headscarf that was wrapped on his face.

There the tension grew wildly, the wind blew lazily suffocating the the two people who gazed at each other one of who's sagacious eyes were shocked as they trailed down the abyss of dark brown hair that cascaded down the stranger's face who was precisely a woman?!