Crown

The crown had rested so perfectly on her head. Her shoulders high and proud. Hands covered in lace and holding in them hope. Her eyes have shown bright with gentle peace and abundant grace. There was no fear that she could fall. Slowly she could see the enemy come. But no fear entered her mind, surely those that held her protection would stand before her. Then one by one she watched them fall. Some ran, shocking her as she had trusted them with her very life. Others turned and joined her attackers. She could feel her hands and heart tremble as it broke her heart to see those she loved now only offer death. The last were simply struck down, their bloodied bodies telling the story of her destruction. Her once bright eyes now full of fear. Tears streaming down her face as all she could do was wait. Watching her beloved protectors fall before her. Each one hurt. Every hit was a hit to her own body and heart. She stood still with her shoulders high and crown high on her head. Her foes could not reach her but they broke her. Her laced covered hands now covered in blood. The blood of her loves. The ones she called friends. The ones she would have given up her own life for. She can’t stop the attacks. She can only watch. Her cries pierce the ears of all around her. No longer will she just stand. Her shoulders fall and her treasured crown hits the bloodied streets. Her trembling hands pick up a sword. She fights. She wasn’t meant to fight. She wasn’t meant to be this. Once she could only see peace and now all she sees is death and destruction. No longer is she the thing to protect but now she will protect.  Striking down her enemies to protect her cherished people.

She does not fear her fall. They underestimated her strength. They assumed her weak and without ability. They laughed at her and callously gave their judgments on her soul. Here she stands. Covered in bruises. Covered in blood. Taking strike after strike. She will not fall. She will not quit. Even as the voices of those that she most loves call her back and beg for mercy from their attackers; she refuses. Her voice will not be silenced and given to fear. Her love for those behind her forces her forward. She can’t be called away. Until the very end she will fight. It will cost her everything. She will lose almost everything. Her crown though will stay hers. They assume she doesn’t know the cost. She knows. She can see it. With each strike against her and with each hit she strikes her vision becomes clearer. Her hands become stronger. She can see the fear building in the eyes of those she fights. Even as she grows tired and weary, her confidence in her ability to keep her crown does not waver. She knows this battle is long. She knows the cost is high. She knows though that this that this is the way. Those that attacked made their choice and she has made hers. She will fight.

Her head wears a helmet for battle but the crown is hers. More beautiful than before when the crown sat perfectly on her head; shinning more brilliantly than any gold could. Her hands now calloused, bloodied, bruised, and covered in dirt. They hold more strength then ever believed. The delicate hands covered in lace were thought weak but no in fearful wonder her enemies wonder how they still hold her sword. Her eyes still shining bright but now they shine with protection and the secret knowing she will not lose. Her attackers had taken her moment of fear as the victory but their arrogance will cost them. Her give away her secrets. Her eyes shine with such promise of victory that each man she strikes cries out in fear long before her blade enters them. The restful joy is gone but she what she fights for. Now is the time for weary hope. More peace will come. But she knows all hope comes with a price. She will pay that price because she pays it for those that fell and those that stand behind her. With each strike she knows freedom will come closer. Her cries are not in fear or agony but that of a soldier that will not quit.