Sunyata_

Princess Mīna

Added 2025-05-09 23:40:00 +0000 UTC

Twin cries pierced the halls of Śveta-Koṭṭa when the elf queen delivered her daughters. Both brown-haired, yet instantly divided by fate—for Mīna's rounded ears marked her as different in a royal court obsessed with elven purity.

Whispers followed the sisters through childhood. Bastards. Half-breeds. Stains on the royal line. While other noble children played beneath crystal spires, the twins learned to vanish into shadows and forgotten corridors.

Everything changed when the silver-haired prince arrived—a flawless reflection of his royal parents. The twins faded into myth. Mīna’s sister clung to faint acceptance—her ears tapered, magic flickering in her veins. But Mīna? She had only silence. No spells. No grace. Just a spear, calloused palms, and the forest.

Each night, she slipped past drowsy guards to train among ancient trees. Bark scraped her palms as she struck makeshift targets; starlight traced her relentless arcs. The lake waited after every hunt, where ripples hushed the court’s cruelty. She swam until her lungs burned, water weaving through her fingers like a loyal companion, accepting what the elves never could.

They say she smiles now, soft as moonlit water. But watch her hands—always restless, always gripping that spear. She offers kindness like armor, though the court’s laughter still cuts. Hearts, she’s learned, are harder to pierce than flesh.

(The lake never judged. It simply held her, whispering of depths unseen.)