WE ARE RUINATION

CHAPTER ONE

And who was she?

I am Princess Reverie, and I will give this shithole a future so bright the stars would be proud of me.

~

The man would have been a good fighter if he wasn't so arrogant.

Revy found it too easy—dodging a blow, knee to the groin, a dagger to the neck, and a whispered threat of harsh and careful words. 

"Go," she grumbled, dropping her voice. "Let the girl go."

He did. Quickly.

"Apologize."

The man was baffled. Were it not for the blade poised to kill, Revy had the feeling he would have blanched.

It took a second too long. Revy pressed the dagger closer, deeper. "Apologize."

He whimpered. "I'm sorry, miss. I'm—I'm very sorry. It won't—it won't happen again—"

Revy let him go. He made a run for it, disappearing through the dark and twisting alleyways until he was out of her sight.

"Thank you," the woman whispered. Revy turned to look at her, careful to keep her face in shadow. "Thank you, sir. Thank you so much—"

"There is no need for gratitude," Revy replied gruffly, keeping her voice low. It was almost comical. "You take care now."

One more woman kept safe.

She didn't wait for a response. Revy inclined her head quickly and began to stalk away, hands in her pocket and dagger sheathed.

"Sir?" the woman called out. "May I please speak to you?"

Revy didn't stop walking, nor does she respond.

"Please, sir, allow me to thank you properly—"

Revy sighed, heavily enough so that this woman could hear. "There is no need, dear." She walked away faster, picking up the pace. Stars be damned.

"Princess Reverie?"

That made Reverie halt. Her heart began racing, her fingers twitched. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Revy turned, careful. "Excuse me?"

She had collected her dignity. She fixed her clothes and covered her bare shoulders, and she crossed her arms to cover her breasts. "Princess Reverie," she said again, and the admiration in her eyes made Revy look away. "You are Princess Reverie, aren't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." But the venom from her voice has wavered, and she failed to keep her voice low.

Ah, fuck it.

"My name is Cyra, Your Highness," she bowed deeply. The streetlamp made her look eerie and sad, the weight of responsibility bending her back and testing her spirit.

Revy dropped her hood. "How did you know?" Cyra gasped and took a step back.

"Your dagger has the royal seal," Cyra whispered. "And no other royal would do that for me."

Revy pursed her lips. She thought about the cruelty of her father's rule, at the disdain the common folk had for him. It really had gone to shit. Grand feasts funded by the people's money, the castle's unnecessary renovations while the houses of the people slowly began to crumble.

The throne used to symbolize unity among the different cultures of Analide. Tribes coming together from all over the archipelago to war against the invaders, using their powers and magic until the Star Son ascended to turn the tide of the war.