Duty Is Lament

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Blythe's sword met Lucian's, a fierce clatter of steel on steel. Blythe pressed forward, her movements precise, calculated-every strike meant to outmatch him.

"You fight well for someone who spends half his time reading poetry," she said coolly, pushing him back with a strong parry.

Lucian raised an eyebrow, stepping back gracefully. "And yet, poetry has taught me to listen-to see beyond the clash of blades and into what truly matters."

Blythe's cerise eyes gleamed as she lunged once more. "Then perhaps your poetry will serve you better in the garden, not the battlefield."
***
In the Empire Of Alistair ruled by the formidable Emperor Virek Cedric Alistair and Empress Seris Alistair, the daughter of the ruler, Blythe Lux Alistair, was raised unlike any other princess. She was trained and nurtured to be a war machine, a symbol of power and command, with the expectations of one day ascending to the throne. She was raised as more of a son than a daughter. Yet, behind the veneer of strength, Blythe's one and only weakness was the unexpected feelings that arised for her childhood bestfriend, Lucian Aris, the son of a mere count.