Lakota was seriously tired of babysitting.

God damn it sure, she was older. She was wiser, had far more experience than the little runts, and had magic to back her ass. But that didn't mean she was a nanny! Okay, so she'd taken on the task of watching over Ophelia, Ktulu, and Hototo on her own. But that was the task she'd always taken on, far too loyal to not do it. The vixen would kill herself before she ever let them be harmed simply because she wasn't watchful enough. She knew she had big sister instincts far larger than most, and had a problem with being a grumpy bitch that watched out for her charges with a chaste, subtle kind of love. Most of the time she came off as awkward and unhappy, but they always seemed to get the message. Nevertheless! Gods, she'd had to save Phaedra from a fucking sea monster and a pack of wolves! Then the youth had somehow grown on her, and Lakota had unhappily (fake and you know it, Kota) taken her beneath metaphorical wing. Jesus the only ones who had sense about them seemed to be on the mercenary side of things! (Except Apollo. Apollo doesn't count) Flipping the bird to her sarcastic mind that loved to remind her of things she didn't want to know. They were pushed away for a reason. Rafe and Osiris were the only others she knew that weren't more trouble than they were worth, and she hardly ever saw them around. Ktulu, at least, didn't seem to care about her personal shadow.

She had nearly exhausted herself to the point of unconsciousness when she had saved Phaedra, and directly after recovering she had fled the shadows of her home and broken into the sharp sunlight of tallsun. There was no use trying to hide. Shadows were her friend, hiding her in swathes of obsidian. With the sun beating down on the earth, she was a sore thumb in the beautifully flowered meadow. Despite the slowing rains, which were hardly noticeable, the flowers were blooming relentlessly. It seemed that this meadow always made her walls drop, crashing like glass to her hooves. It was simple why this happened, and once you understood the backstory you would also understand why she traveled to this particular place only when she wanted to let go. Stupid Ithrim...

When she was young and cold and he'd saved her from herself, she'd been the epitome of a fumbling filly. It seemed everywhere she'd turned he'd be doing something stupidly sweet with that half goofy grin half smirk. And every time she would feel as if her legs were tangled and she was falling. At the time she hadn't understood that sensation was her falling impossibly in love with the goofy smartass. Despite knowing she could never keep them around her parents, he would place flower after flower in her long black locks. Lakota would grumble, flustered and anxious, hiding it behind sarcasm and biting comments that never seemed to affect him. Even so, she would never shake them out until she absolutely had to for fear her parents would catch her. Every flower, even the thistle that crowded them, reminded her of him. Stupid Ithrim...she thought again, with sorrow. Stupid, stupid Ithrim...I love you. Long ebony legs bent until shins touched the earth. Curling up on the earth, eyes shiny with tears she knew would never spill. Lakota was not worthy of crying. Slowly she lowered down to her side, dark lips touching the petal of the nearest flower. Every soft breath made it flutter and sway. Feeling as if her heartbeat was connecting with that of the earth. Hoping to the Gods that somewhere Ithrim really was waiting, that he could feel it still beating. What the fuck did she care if someone ventured upon her, judged her? Let them see! Let them see what happens when you meet the perfect other piece of your soul, and have it torn apart right before your very eyes! If anyone judged her for this intimacy, this vulnerability, then they were foolish and blind. For losing a lover as she had lost hers was a pain not worth enduring. Had she not sworn her continuing existence to her dying soulmate she would have cut short the rhythm of her heart within seconds of his death. No, instead he had made her swear to move on. To divert from the path of her parents, to love again. He had saddled her with a curse and a blessing. You know you can't love again. For he was the only one you could ever love. Pained thoughts made tears sting sharper but still they did not fall. No. No, she promised. She swore that she would love again, and she would.

Heavy sigh made the flower bow dangerously, and Lakota turned her gaze to the sky. Lifting the front half of her body, resting still on the warm sun baked earth. Depression does not suit you, she snapped at herself, and struggled to push away the memories that flooded out every time she let down the barriers of her mind. Ithrim smiling, laughing, winking at her. Flicking her with his tail, putting flowers in her hair. Pushing her lithe body around but always there to steady her. Slowly they faded as she forced them back, though face was weary from doing so.

Fuck you Ithrim.

I love you...

The barrier had been placed back up between the small area of Ithrim and her past life and the rest of her thoughts, keeping her from remembering him fully. Shoving away every thought of him, focusing instead on the Grey and her life. What in the world was she doing? Sometimes she wondered what her real purpose was in the Grey. She was a Mercenary, a Recruiter, a Babysitter, a Bodyguard…and yet she was the only one giving out her love, strange and cold as it may be. Did anybody even give two shits about her? Was she just the poisoner? Did they look up to her? Was she even worth being looked up to? Could she really lead Hana into that sort of life? Hana would enjoy it, no doubt. Yet Lakota seemed to be just a shadow, not that it had ever bothered her before. That was what she did best, after all. It was her life, and she was rather surprised that something had kept her in Helovia. Whatever it was, she thanked it, for it had brought her sister back to her.

Soft sigh shook her lean chest, ruffling a few blades of grass that were swept up intimately against her ebony skin. Lakota had no idea what to do from here. Knowing she would stand once more and turn back towards the woods, push away the worries that had driven her from them in the first place. Ithrim, his memory, always seemed to comfort her when she needed space. But once she had arrived in her home, what then? He had begged her to love again, to open up and show the side of her that was hidden very deep inside of her. A beautiful pearl inside a clam shut far too tight. Could she do it again? Could she really allow someone in that far, where they could hurt her? The one and only place she was most vulnerable? She had gone through hours of torture after killing her father, and she had taken it with a bloodthirsty, satisfied smirk on her face. Pain did not break her. Physical blows would never hurt her as much as love could. Even if she did decide she wanted to love again, who would even care enough to see past the thousands of walls she put up to protect herself? Fuck, she sounded like some lonely romance-starved filly!

Her face twisted into a scowl just as the sound of another touched her listeners and made them swivel upon her cranium. It is another mare, and she seems so satisfied with her own beauty that Lakota feels like smashing her face in. Reeling in her rather violent tendencies, she gave her a cold stare that was her normal face. If she took offense it wasn’t her fault, for that was how her face looked all the time. Standing she was still satisfied to realize she was taller, shaking herself so that the grass and petals fell off her sides. ”I’m not your friend,” she grumped, but nonetheless stood to face her. Once upon a time, Lakota was beautiful. She always would be, but the frigid nature of her expression often made her seem far too strict, far too angry. Beauty was irrelevant to her. Who cared what you looked like? You could be the prettiest person on the outside and be a rotten bitch on the inside. ”Lakota, Poisoner of the Grey.” That was all she needed to say, and all she would. Her title. The only thing she owned. Violet irises surveyed the female before her, calculating what she could. ”What brings you here?” She really didn’t care that much, but she might as well attempt conversation right?

It’s almost disappointing when the fae is only momentarily shocked. Lakota isn’t a nice person on the outside. She’s a prickly cretin and she doesn’t care, and this glowing female is starting to rub her the wrong way just through her presence. The little lady doesn’t know pain. She couldn’t possibly comprehend what the older woman has gone through. How dare she stand there smiling and happy? How dare she act like she knew the roan female? Lakota hated her for being so pure, but knew she didn’t know the femme in any way and couldn’t judge. Oh wait, yes she could, because Lakota didn’t care necessarily. However she wasn’t in the mood for a fight for once and just felt like a grumpy old lady at that moment. Her laughter makes Lakota stare at her momentarily before turning her head with a downward half-sneer, half-frown. What in the world was she doing? Lakota glanced at her, hiding her confusion behind irritation. Azura, wasn’t it? She doesn’t speak at all when Lakota announces her title, and the older fae hopes she got a reaction of some sort. It doesn’t matter she cannot see it.

Faint turn of lips catches her attention again, but words that follow are far from savory and Lakota grimaces. She had been the Princess in her former home, and not only did she not hide from battle, she led her cavalry into battle. To her, a female that runs from war is a disgrace. Ear flicks to show her disinterest in the following words. Gold legends? What did she care? ”Well congrats for being unharmed then,” and it is a hiss as it comes out, eyes angry. ”So you’re saying that you left behind your family, your herd, simply because daddy told you to? You let them fight for your home? While you simply turned and ran?” Head shakes slowly in disbelief and Lakota turned, flicking her tail at the fae to show she wanted the lass to follow her. ”Whatever, your choice. What has the world come today? When I was fucking Princess I was on the frontline leading my warriors to battle. Mares these days, what the fuck…” Face twisted as she spoke, not directly to Azura but uncaring if she heard. Lakota began walking, wanting Azura to follow. Eyes sought out a path only she saw and she began to speak. ”At least you have something of your father. Lucky you he was kind. Keep it close,” she grumped, but there is a sincerity to her voice. Violet gaze flickering over to the other female. Why was she even dealing with Lakota? She certainly wasn’t worth it. ”You better leave now if you’re looking for good company. I’m not the best of souls, per se.” Visage took on a dark, haunted look. So many memories, all affecting her in some way. Coming to her senses quickly, realizing she had shown a very hurt side of her, something dark and wounded, festering in her mind. Quickly composing her face into ice once more as she walked, not wanting Azura to see more than she already likely had.

Dainty hoof stomps the ground weakly, and Lakota wishes to do the same into the pretty shallow girl’s head. She is a disgrace to females, and Lakota wishes for one vile second that the dame could be put in her skin. But no, she would never wish that sort of life upon anyone. Her life was nothing but one big smear of blood, most of it coming from her own body. Even if the prissy girly-girl infuriated her for being the stereotypical beautiful, complacent fae, Lakota wouldn’t wish that sort of pain upon her. She doesn’t leave, and Lakota wonders why she is so amped up today. Normally she would be a block of ice, words cutting and sharp. Not that they weren’t, but now they held angry passion behind them. Azura had caught her in the throes of her misery over her dead soulmate, and that was a bad timing for her. Instead of leaving she not only follows but dares to fucking prance before Lakota and stop her, as if it’s a fucking beauty pageant. Derisive snort falls from her, showing how unimpressed she is. Lakota has the skill of a warrior of many years, with magic to back her up. She’s a mercenary for God’s sake. She could take the ‘golden princess’, if she wasn’t so intent on getting the hell away from her. What an annoying hag.

Ears are starting to bow backwards, but Lakota has no such inhibitions. Her own ebony fall fully to her crown, and teeth are bared threateningly. Looming to her full height over the other female, violet eyes as hard as a sharp blade and just as willing to cut. ”You think you can control my mouth now? Guess what princess, you’re just an outcast here. You have no standing. We both lost our crowns little girl, and I’ll speak however I choose,” Anger has disappeared and turned into cutting frigidity. The passion that has fueled her words is gone, and once more she is in perfect control. Face is devoid of emotion, as if she is a doll made of snow and stone. Lakota would not give Azura the pleasure of riling her up, and would remain as frosty as she usually always was. Eyes glance over her golden coat, once again unimpressed. ”No offense to you and your precious coat color, but it’s not that rare. One of my sister-in-arms has the exact same shade.” Tone dull and uncaring. Oh yes, this control is much more satisfying. It is dangerous for Lakota to lose her cool like that, for emotions are revealed that are much safer hidden away. More for her than anyone else, for emotions are what kill Lakota from the inside. Doubt is in her eyes and Lakota’s ears pin further, as if trying to meld into her head. ”Didn’t have? You are so stupid, little girl. I was born into a royal family, don’t think my bad attitude reveals anything, you wanna see how I usually looked before my subjects?” Voice has turned to a hiss with the venom of a viper. Slowly she lets her face fall into a regal, all-knowing gaze. Spine straightens and she rises to full height, lean and tall. Violet eyes are still hard, but not so much cutting. It has been a long, long time since Lakota has appeared this way. All it takes is a change of face and posture, and she takes on the appearance of royalty always hidden beneath her hatred. ”This is me, darling. Did I have a kind father? No. He was King of our land, but we were a herd that killed and conquered. We beat down every opposition, seized control of whatever we wanted. I was the first born daughter, my brother Alleo the first born son.” Voice has changed as well, smooth and almost soothing, like silk. Lakota is embodying the princess she was, and knows the change is obvious, but could care less. Azura could have the shock of her life if she wished, but Lakota would not be called a liar. ”My father and mother alike despised us. They sliced my hide with sharp hooves, beat me down before I was even two seasons old. Do you understand the ice that is put in your soul when you are beaten within an inch of your life, merely for smiling?” Eyes narrow momentarily, but she regally swept her forelock out of her eyes and it was gone, back to the wise gaze that surveyed the world far differently than mere moments before. It is easy to assume this role, she has lived it a great portion of her life. Princess. Gods it had been quite a while though. ”We were not allowed to have fun. No laughter, no smiling. We were to be perfect, I was to be perfect. I was Princess, destined to take over the herd after my parents stepped down. From birth I was introduced to poisonous plants. I soon became a cold individual, with friends that were shadows of friends. I was wanted in their company only because they hoped it would improve the standing of their parents and their own lives. I had nobody but my brother.” And holy Gods why is she spilling all of this? Oh yes, because Azura was naïve. She was blind to the horrors of the world, prancing about as if she still wore a crown. Well, Lakota planned to knock it right off her head, filled with nothing but air as it was. ”My sister was born unwanted, unplanned. They nearly killed her for simply living, Azura. Get it? My herd was brutal. I was a Princess, true as the breath in my lungs, but a Princess isn’t always out of a fairy tale. Sometimes a Princess is born from a nightmare, like me. The world isn’t perfect, and kingdoms can be just as imperfect. I protected my baby sister with my life. I was beaten even more, simply because I was protecting an innocent. Someone who hardly had breathed one lungful. And then, one day, this man appeared. He looked at me and saw past every wall I had, every block of ice that kept all the broken pieces of me protected.” Regal gaze fell and pain took over. They stood there in a face off, and yet Lakota refused to let her shoulders slump to how they had been before. No, she would show Azura. She would paint it out before her eyes. Lakota would not be doubted, she was no liar, and she suddenly wanted to impart in Azura the wisdom of her own years. To show her that the world was hard and cruel, and that she couldn’t go around thinking she owned it, because the world hunted down light and destroyed it. Someone was going to kill her if she thought she was perfect. ”His name was Ithrim. He was sarcastic, and sweet, and a smart ass. But…he was perfect. And slowly he drew me out from this shell of stone I had built around me. I was in love, Azura. The Princess falling for the Peasant. And you want to know what happened when my parents found out?” Violet gaze hardened, pained but also filled with raw, untamed anger. Nothing would keep her from reliving that night in her daymares, for she couldn’t escape them if she tried her hardest. Always, always it would repeat. A stuttering film stuck on play. ”They took him, and they tortured him. They ripped his skin away from his muscles. They broke his legs, crushed in his face, made him bleed so far that his blood stained the earth for paces wide. And you know what’s even worse? I had to fucking watch. I watched as the one person I ever loved, my soulmate, was killed before my very eyes. I heard every cry, every scream. And when at last they were done, I ran to him. I was not a Princess then. I didn’t care for appearances. I cried, I knelt in his life blood. That was my punishment for loving him, his death. And…and his last words? For me to love again.” One tear streaked down her dark cheek over the splot of white over her eye, and she shook it away, teeth gritting in anger. No, emotions made you weak. That was shown clearly in what had happened with Ithrim. She would not let them creep up on her again. ”Angry, I was so angry. I killed my father in cold blood, poisoning him and stripping him from his skin like he had my lover. And then I, too, was caught and tortured. My brother saved me, and I fled. My crown has fallen, Azura, but do not think I was not a Princess. I ruled my herd well, but I have grown numb to killing. Can you blame me for having no emotion when you see the childhood I had? Nearly killing a child every time they dared to smile? So don’t think the world is perfect, little girl. You’re not perfect. Just because you have a pretty gold coat and you’re not ugly doesn’t mean you’re not ugly on the inside. Open your eyes, Azura. This isn’t your home. This is the wild lands, and if you don’t mature right fucking now you’re going to get your pretty little head smashed into the earth. Got it?” Yet her words hold no anger. They are cool, almost defeated. She is not threatening Azura, no. She is warning her, because nobody deserves to go through what Lakota did.