Valiance

Part One..

Poker Face.

Chapter One.

“Legs.” Persephone swung her legs down from the cream couch and sighed.

“The couch wasn't even that comfortable anyway.” She muttered. Her mother was forever nagging about her doing everything wrong. Lately she couldn't seem to do anything right. She loved her mother, but she hated the nagging.

She stood from the couch and ran her fingers along the pearl incrested armrest as she left the room. The hallway was lined with too many doors for Persephone to count on both her hands, aswel as dozens of portraits and sculptures. It was her favourite part in the mansion. Not because of the huge vanity mirrors or the portraits of the people in her family, but because she felt so out of place when she was on this floor of the house.

She loved knowing that her step father Eragon hated her hanging around this part of the mansion if there were guests. He thinks it would give the wrong impression if they saw Persephone, who's everyday wear usually consisted of a pair of cut-off shorts with treads hanging everywhere, and a tank top or t-shirt. She usually had her hair down in it's natural waves or else tied back into a pony tail. He thought she never seemed to look 'lady like' and constently reminded her of how much her younger sister showed her up in public. Not that Faith tried to show her older sister up. It was just how she was naturally graceful and beautiful and well dressed and....perfectly 'lady-like', really.

Every male guest to the mansion would gape at Faith like she couldn't see them. They would drool over her and even try to hit on her. Not that Persephone didn't get much attention. She did. But men had learned to stay well away from her. She was known for speaking her mind, breaking the rules and not being afraid to hit men in their....jewels, for coming on to her. Or trying to, anyway.

She hadn't always been so resentful towards Eragon. When her mother had first told her she had met someone, Persephone was happy...sort of. Her mother seemed to be happy so why shouldn't she and Faith be happy too?

She tried to be supportive, you know, help her with outfits to wear on dates- even though she and her mother never had the same sense of dress so Faith was more helpful in that department. She really did try...

Until she met Eragon.

As soon as he first walked in the door, Persephone thought he was bad news. The way he walked in as if he had a bubble of arrogance around him, the way he looked her and her sister up and down before extending a hand and shaking theirs.

The next day she had it out with her mother and tried to find what it was that she saw in him. And now, here she was in the big mansion reserved for the Ruler of Vistic. Eragon to be precise.

And she had been right about Eragon. His last act of stupidity was just another reason and confirmation of her thoughts and knowledge.

He had created the Vistic Tournament five years ago, just a few months after he had become Ruler. It's a fifty man tournament where young men fight eachother and the dangers of a fixed arena where there lies monsters created by Eragon's scientists for the arenas. Monsters like Armours; men armed with enough weapons to wipe out an entire city on one round in each gun and a throw of each knife. Knights; wolf like beasts formed from a mutation of bears and lions that have a nasty liking of human blood.

She hated the man for everything he was worth.

The look in the girl's eyes when they were whisked away from their families and into the arms of a disgusting, bloody killer who had only gained her hand by slaughtering other men- the prize at the end of the tournament is the hand of a fair lady.

Each year Eragon chose a different young girl to play the part of the prize. Each year she is wealty and well to do so the winner is guaranteed a rich future ahead of them.

Eragon hand picks the girls and the families have no choice but to abide by his rules, other wise he has the power to execute them in terms of uprising. He had been very cunning and sly when he had created the rules and laws of Vistic.

She walked along the hallway in her bare feet, the carpet felt soft under the soul of her foot. She held her finger between the two pages of her book that she had stopped at. As she was passing Eragon's guest waiting room; the room he used for people waiting to speak to him, she ran her hand through her chocolate brown hair and stopped walking. She took two steps backwards and peeked into the waiting room.