How far she had traveled from her home, her small hooves carrying her steadily from the valleys and green familiar to her, from the porcelain white spires of the nobility.  Now, instead of being a jewel in a coronet upon the king's head, she held herself as merely a mare.  No one here knew of her name before meeting, no one sought her attention to raise themselves closer to her father's power.  Just a girl.

The new lack of weight in that title sat uneasily on her shoulders.  Instead of feeling free from shackles, the desire to be someone dwelled in her thoughts.  Rexanna accepted her to the Aurora Basin without much thought, extending in her a chance to stand among giants despite her being a worthless doll.  Still, the desire to become a person of value never realized itself.  Her hardwork, discovering herself, left her feeling more and more inadequate each day.   The feeling that nothing except air resided in her skull haunted her more than she'd care to admit.

So, with tired legs and soul, the burdened girl carries her struggles with her up a long mountain path, one she knew.  After her acceptance into the northern kingdom, this had been the first place she traveled.  In the spring, under the watchful gaze of the sun, the flowers blossomed in a myriad of colors.  Gems carrying themselves amid blades of green, waving in a sea of clouds far above the world.  Here, she had met Seanan, a peculiar soul, but one that she took comfort in speaking with.  Today, however, a different fated encounter awaited her.

Had she been able to read the mind of Thranduil during their meeting, she might be more wary.  Instead, all she had were the brief memories of the shadow during the herd meeting.  When her lilac eyes catch upon the gloomy figure standing proud in the field of green, her breath also catches in her throat.  Uncertainty carries over her like the mists from the swirling clouds she passed through, trying to decide whether approaching the stallion were the best course of action.

In her former home, she would never have hesitated.  Here, in Helovia, she stands on unequal footing.
After a moment, she slides from the thin veil of clouds into the green meadow.
In spite of her insecurities, the fear clenching her heart at his eerie vision, Zyanya could not, in good conscience, ignore the leader of her herd.

Soft footsteps carry her in his direction, being cautious to keep a healthy distance of grass between their bodies.  "Hello, Deimos," she calls out toward the Reaper, her voice the flutter of butterflies' wings.  "You don't know me."  Her face is flushed under pale skin, feeling quite embarrassed speaking to her Lord in such a casual manner.

"I am Zyanya, and I take shelter within your lands," a smile genuine and bright as sunlight masks the uneasy feeling claiming her body.   Looking at him more closely, he seems even more a shadow, broken only by a small patch of white hair dancing about his neck and the deep blue of his eyes.  "Thank you."

For allowing worthless me to stay.
""

We've made a fool out of love, when all we want is to be enough
when all we want is to feel enough