05-29-2015, 03:57 PM
The reality of knowing she was nothing more than dead weight; merely a meat shield to increase their chances of survival, hurt more than her physical wounds. Even worse, she was no commoner, no throwaway – piece of trash; she was a queen, although in her current state, it was hard for any of them to actually, believe that.
With every ounce of effort, Komand’r attempted to rise to her feet.
“Your grace – let me help yo-”
“Guaaaargh!” she exclaimed painfully. “Don’t…” She used her hand to brush his hand away. “If I cannot stand on my own…then…” Her teeth, which had lost their whiteness, grinded together. “….I truly deserve to die.”
“Your grace,” replied Jon. His tone was weak and defined his reluctance to refuse her wish; nevertheless, he took a couple of steps backwards out of respect, admiration for a woman he hardly knew much about.
The wounded monarch clutched the handle of her shovel and then thrust the metal into the he island’s soft soil. The force elicited a scream from her crimson, stained lips. The shovel vibrated continuously, along with her left leg, which felt like jelly. It was like someone trying to make the piece of spaghetti between their fingers stand on a dinner plate. After a series of failed attempts, that person realises, ‘I just can’t do it.’
“Kill me,” growled Blackfire, who after deciding it was pointless to continue wasting the little amount of energy she had left, let herself crash, back first to the ground.
“Your grace!” screamed the noble, Jon Snow.
Backfire looked up at him emotionlessly. “My time is up.” She shut closed her eyes hoping to ease the pain of failure. “Summon your King…a-and tell him to make it quick.”
“No!” Jon refused, but when he attempted to pick her up, she slapped his hand away. It was weaker this time, but with enough force to restate her wish. “We will get you medical help and fix y-”
“It has to be your King,” she continued. As there was no medical kit in range, it was pointless bothering to continue to listen to him babbling on. “Death at the hands of anyone else…would add further to my feeling of mortification.”
“Get up, Blackfire!” a deep voice from above her commanded.
Blood rushed to Komand’r’s head while it slowly rose. The blood for her hairline, split into two trails and then entered into each eye, simultaneously, worsening her already, blurred vision. Meanwhile, blood dripped from her nostrils and lips, going down to her chin. There were two Tyrand’r’s before her, but as he marched, closer to her, her vision improved, the two men were merging one.
Komand’r diverted her attention to the sky after another around of thunder roared from the capitol’s grey sky. Immediately, the light rain transitioned into heavy rain. What’s the point? she wondered, allowing her head to sink to the finely trimmed, green grass belonging to one of the four training fields of the Myand’r Royal Palace. No matter how much I try, I will never be able to defeat Lord Tyrand’r After all, he was the same person who had taught her everything she knew.
“Get up!” he barked once more. Now he was standing over her.
She ignored him.
“Get, up!”
Not even bothering to waste another ounce of energy to raise her head and look him in his eye, she declared, “You win,” and then after squinting, due to the irritation of rain constantly splashing into her eyes, concluded, “While I live to fight another day.”
“Fine answer, however, there may come a time when you will not be given that luxury. A time will occur when you will not be given a choice.” He dipped his head, observing her sternly. “Such as now.” Tyrand’r lifted his right leg as high as he could and then with a lot of force, thrust his foot against her abdomen causing the teenage girl to shrill in pain. Her eyes bulged and red veins emerged from many corners while his foot continued to rest there. To make matters worse, he lowered until his right elbow rested on top of his knee.
Tyrand’r’s heart thumped from the guilt of watching her squirm in pain. His heart told him to relinquish his foot from her abdomen while his head told him not to ease on the pressure. His heart wanted to show her mercy while his head wanted to continue demonstrating the true definition of ‘tough love’.
“What is this?” Tyrand’r enquired curiously, making note of hands that struggled to remove his black boot from her abs. “You cannot even shift it,” he chuckled. “Not even slightly.”
“P-Plee…ease,” she wheezed, eyes completely red.
“Please,” he mimicked. “Or did you just mutter – ease?” He shook his head in disgust. “What if your father were present to hear you say that? Pardon me, my mistake. Your father already has low expectations of you.”
Suddenly, Komand’r’s look of desperation transformed into a menacing expression. Her glary, red eyes filled him with encouragement. “Look at you,” he continued to goad her , lazily directing his left hand towards her. “Everybody thinks you are pathetic. You a Tamaranean Princess, yet you are incapable of flying. You are the first born child of King Myand’r, yet not air to the throne.” Tyrand’r tutted. “What a shame. I was wrong for thinking that you were willing to stand up for yourself.”
Komand’r shook her head frantically in denial, eyes tightly shut. The only things that had kept her from committing suicide were her mentor, Lord Tyrand’r, and the opportunity to rise above her millions of oppressors.
“I thought you desired to prove them wrong; prove to them that the pain and suffering you have experienced because of your disability is your source of power and what makes you grow stronger, day by day.”
It was, she remembered.
Suddenly the pain took a backseat to her drive, her goals and the opportunity to turn her desires into reality.
Komand’r remembered who she was – how she had become Queen of Planet Tamaran in the first place. No, she was not weak and she had to prove that to them all. She had to show them how great and mighty she was. She had to demonstrate to them the true meaning of determination. She had to show them that no matter how many times people knocked her down, for as long as there was breath in her, she refused to quit.
Reminiscing the past, she remembered, it was her determination to achieve her goals that had given her the power to slowly and gradually lift Lord Tyrand’r's boot from her abdomen, just as it had given her the power to rise to her feet now. Even though she was using her weapon to support her weight and leaning her other hand against a tree to help maintain her balance; at least she had risen; at least she had finally shown them that she refused to quit.
Most of all, she had proven to herself… “If the mind can perceive it, the person can achieve it.” Those were Lord Tyrand’r’s words.
Thank you, Lord Tyrand’r. Regardless of her condition, the damage, the uncontrollable trembling, she reminded herself, I will find and kill him, for my pleasure, your pleasure and for the satisfaction of our entire race.
The queen was not ready to fall.
With every ounce of effort, Komand’r attempted to rise to her feet.
“Your grace – let me help yo-”
“Guaaaargh!” she exclaimed painfully. “Don’t…” She used her hand to brush his hand away. “If I cannot stand on my own…then…” Her teeth, which had lost their whiteness, grinded together. “….I truly deserve to die.”
“Your grace,” replied Jon. His tone was weak and defined his reluctance to refuse her wish; nevertheless, he took a couple of steps backwards out of respect, admiration for a woman he hardly knew much about.
The wounded monarch clutched the handle of her shovel and then thrust the metal into the he island’s soft soil. The force elicited a scream from her crimson, stained lips. The shovel vibrated continuously, along with her left leg, which felt like jelly. It was like someone trying to make the piece of spaghetti between their fingers stand on a dinner plate. After a series of failed attempts, that person realises, ‘I just can’t do it.’
“Kill me,” growled Blackfire, who after deciding it was pointless to continue wasting the little amount of energy she had left, let herself crash, back first to the ground.
“Your grace!” screamed the noble, Jon Snow.
Backfire looked up at him emotionlessly. “My time is up.” She shut closed her eyes hoping to ease the pain of failure. “Summon your King…a-and tell him to make it quick.”
“No!” Jon refused, but when he attempted to pick her up, she slapped his hand away. It was weaker this time, but with enough force to restate her wish. “We will get you medical help and fix y-”
“It has to be your King,” she continued. As there was no medical kit in range, it was pointless bothering to continue to listen to him babbling on. “Death at the hands of anyone else…would add further to my feeling of mortification.”
====
“Get up, Blackfire!” a deep voice from above her commanded.
Blood rushed to Komand’r’s head while it slowly rose. The blood for her hairline, split into two trails and then entered into each eye, simultaneously, worsening her already, blurred vision. Meanwhile, blood dripped from her nostrils and lips, going down to her chin. There were two Tyrand’r’s before her, but as he marched, closer to her, her vision improved, the two men were merging one.
Komand’r diverted her attention to the sky after another around of thunder roared from the capitol’s grey sky. Immediately, the light rain transitioned into heavy rain. What’s the point? she wondered, allowing her head to sink to the finely trimmed, green grass belonging to one of the four training fields of the Myand’r Royal Palace. No matter how much I try, I will never be able to defeat Lord Tyrand’r After all, he was the same person who had taught her everything she knew.
“Get up!” he barked once more. Now he was standing over her.
She ignored him.
“Get, up!”
Not even bothering to waste another ounce of energy to raise her head and look him in his eye, she declared, “You win,” and then after squinting, due to the irritation of rain constantly splashing into her eyes, concluded, “While I live to fight another day.”
“Fine answer, however, there may come a time when you will not be given that luxury. A time will occur when you will not be given a choice.” He dipped his head, observing her sternly. “Such as now.” Tyrand’r lifted his right leg as high as he could and then with a lot of force, thrust his foot against her abdomen causing the teenage girl to shrill in pain. Her eyes bulged and red veins emerged from many corners while his foot continued to rest there. To make matters worse, he lowered until his right elbow rested on top of his knee.
Tyrand’r’s heart thumped from the guilt of watching her squirm in pain. His heart told him to relinquish his foot from her abdomen while his head told him not to ease on the pressure. His heart wanted to show her mercy while his head wanted to continue demonstrating the true definition of ‘tough love’.
“What is this?” Tyrand’r enquired curiously, making note of hands that struggled to remove his black boot from her abs. “You cannot even shift it,” he chuckled. “Not even slightly.”
“P-Plee…ease,” she wheezed, eyes completely red.
“Please,” he mimicked. “Or did you just mutter – ease?” He shook his head in disgust. “What if your father were present to hear you say that? Pardon me, my mistake. Your father already has low expectations of you.”
Suddenly, Komand’r’s look of desperation transformed into a menacing expression. Her glary, red eyes filled him with encouragement. “Look at you,” he continued to goad her , lazily directing his left hand towards her. “Everybody thinks you are pathetic. You a Tamaranean Princess, yet you are incapable of flying. You are the first born child of King Myand’r, yet not air to the throne.” Tyrand’r tutted. “What a shame. I was wrong for thinking that you were willing to stand up for yourself.”
Komand’r shook her head frantically in denial, eyes tightly shut. The only things that had kept her from committing suicide were her mentor, Lord Tyrand’r, and the opportunity to rise above her millions of oppressors.
“I thought you desired to prove them wrong; prove to them that the pain and suffering you have experienced because of your disability is your source of power and what makes you grow stronger, day by day.”
It was, she remembered.
Suddenly the pain took a backseat to her drive, her goals and the opportunity to turn her desires into reality.
====
Komand’r remembered who she was – how she had become Queen of Planet Tamaran in the first place. No, she was not weak and she had to prove that to them all. She had to show them how great and mighty she was. She had to demonstrate to them the true meaning of determination. She had to show them that no matter how many times people knocked her down, for as long as there was breath in her, she refused to quit.
Reminiscing the past, she remembered, it was her determination to achieve her goals that had given her the power to slowly and gradually lift Lord Tyrand’r's boot from her abdomen, just as it had given her the power to rise to her feet now. Even though she was using her weapon to support her weight and leaning her other hand against a tree to help maintain her balance; at least she had risen; at least she had finally shown them that she refused to quit.
Most of all, she had proven to herself… “If the mind can perceive it, the person can achieve it.” Those were Lord Tyrand’r’s words.
Thank you, Lord Tyrand’r. Regardless of her condition, the damage, the uncontrollable trembling, she reminded herself, I will find and kill him, for my pleasure, your pleasure and for the satisfaction of our entire race.
The queen was not ready to fall.
![[Image: c1f25896-85f6-41b6-b294-c33e5d5737f8_zpsol2jguot.jpg]](http://i175.photobucket.com/albums/w135/Maximum008/c1f25896-85f6-41b6-b294-c33e5d5737f8_zpsol2jguot.jpg)