White King

Her breath was ragged as she ran, clutching Wayland's hand they wove through the tress outside the castle. In and out she told her lungs, right and left she told her feet, up and down she told her eyelids but nothing worked. She couldn't run, breathe, dodge the arrows flying her way or fight. She couldn't even force herself to try to do any of these things for she had no reason to. She couldn't find it in herself to care to see if Adette was behind them. She couldn't find it in herself to care if she died. What good is she anyways? She sat and watched as her father fought for his life, a dagger sticking out of his throat and couldn't call for help. She was useless, and what use is a useless princess?