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.