Pitter patter, the rain hit the roof.
Clip clop, the horses heaved.
Tick tock, went the clock in her head.
Never had she been blind.
Not when the servants made lewd gazes.
Never had she been stupid.
Not when her maids tried to butter her up.
Never had she been afraid.
Not when her instructors threatened to tell her mother.
The Sanguine Daughter of the Lion.
The Jeweled Blood of the South.
A Princess, in all but reality.
Raised in the lap of luxury, she had never known a struggle she could not surpass.
Adversity.What was that?
Her teachers were of the highest quality, giving her the knowledge and experience they had each gained over decades, to further her studies, which she attended at her leisure.
Raised to be the perfect heir.
And yet!
And… yet.
She had been disowned.
Disavowed.
Her face itched.
Disfigured.
Everyday, it itched, and itched, and itched. Yet she did not scratch.
