Vana Eeiress, age eighteen, was strolling around the castle, head held high. Her blond hair fell to her waist, swinging back and forth with each step she took. Sparkling grey eyes shifted back and forth as she ascended the stairs. Vana was a picture of loveliness in her blood red dress, lips stained to match and eyes powdered darkly and smoked out.

The sky that day was cloudy, the sun shone through the windows for a few seconds at a time. It was a peaceful day, one of the nicest Vana had felt that year. She sighed peacefully, leaning against the windowsill, watching her people frolick about. They all lead such interesting lives, lives Vana dreamed about living.

Sadly, though, that day wasn't as peaceful as she had hoped. As Vana peeled herself away from the window, rounding the corner to her parents' room, she heard them bickering. It wasn't anything out of the ordinary, in fact, it happened all the time, especially so after Vana became the Crown Princess the month before.

"You're not thinking straight, Arasei." Vana's father whispered. "Please, put that down."

"Tomas, I'm thinking straighter than I ever have before." Arasei spat back.

At that point, Vana barged into the room, greeted by Tomas, who had a sword sticking straight through his heart. "Mother?" She whispered as Arasei pulled the blade out.

"Vana! You're here!" Arasei motioned for a hug. When Vana flinched back, she let her arms fall back to her side.

"What did you do?" Vana, shaking with fear, stepped farther and farther from her mother. "Mother, what did you do?"

"Listen, Vana, do you trust me?" Arasei twisted the sword in her hand.

"Yes..." Vana reluctantly answered.

Arasei grabbed Vana's arm and screamed for the guards. "Then this will be a good lesson." She placed the hilt of the sword into Vana's hand, and forced it forward, plunging the sword into her stomach. Arasei smiled as the sword emerged from her back, and whispered, "Trust no one." As the guards rushed in.

Her mother fell, and Vana realized what it looked like she had done. The guards seized her, lifting her by the arms, and dragging her to the dungeon. They tossed her in with such force that she felt her spine crack a little.

"Wait!" Another guard ran in as Vana was being shackled. "The queen said to let her take the throne! We have to release her."

And so, for the second time that day, Vana was carried away, but this time, she was sat atop the throne, where the guards tied her to it by her hands and feet. They kept her there without food or water for four days, letting her waste away.

Vana woke in a cold sweat, panting heavily, and, when she reached up to rub her eyes, she noticed she had been crying. Four years ago, she came into power, mental state in shambles. As far as she could remember, she didn't know if she ever had time to rebuild it. She clutched her forehead, which had begun to throb painfully, as it always did when she had that dream.

It wasn't how she wanted to take the throne, but who was she to try to defy fate?

As she thought about it more, it dawned on her that she had been doing the same thing to Xavier. Killed his parents, tortured him, bribed Fulke into buying Zephrine. But she didn't stop at just forcing him into kingship, she kept going. She was worse than her mother.

As the thought swam around in her head, trying to free itself from her forehead, rid herself of her guilt, Vana broke down.

"My Lady?" Amharic came running into her room. "Are you alright?"

"I shouldn't have killed Leon and Ennis. I should have just signed the alliance and left, leaving Yna alone forever. I want to stop this." The words fell out of her mouth almost faster than her tongue could keep up. "What if they didn't even want to kill me?"

"Well, if they didn't then, they do now. You can't stop, Vana, you've already gone too far. All you can do is finish what you've started." Amharic shrugged, sitting  at the foot of her bed.

"You've been forcing me to do this all along haven't you?" Vana recoiled. "It was you who told me that Zephrine would kill me! You knew I would attack!"

"My Lady," Amharic scooted closer, "I did what was best for Yna. Magic has no place there." Amharic stood, coming around to her side. Upon further inspection, she saw he was carrying a rag that was dripping wet with some sort of liquid.

Vana, panicking, took one of the decorative vases from her bedside table, swung it over her head, and broke it on Amharic's head. He fell to the ground, blood trickling from his forehead. To seal the deal, Vana opened her window, and with immense effort, pushed Amharic's limp body through, watching as he landed on a conveniently placed pile of pitchforks.

Then she packed her bags to leave for Yna.