I was once…a queen, or at least I would've been. But my sister, she took that mantle instead because of some too old to rot elder's blind decision making. It drove me mad, the way she ruled over us, like a child being handed a golden spoon only to fiddle with it like a toy, not truly knowing its worth. And much like any brittle toy, her reign came to a rather abrupt end. I didn't even have to do anything; she fell victim to her own shortsightedness.
Offering up the fair elves and aiding the dark skinned, she saved her hide for a while, but eventually, as the elves ran dry, of course, their anger turned to us. My sister had already shown weakness by siding with them under pressure, and thus, when they came for the slaughter, she was amongst the first to die as an example set for the others.
