Disclaimer: I do not own any characters of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles except for my own.
A/N: Hello readers! I know this chappie is a little short, but it was an idea that I think I'll start with. Let me know what you think! :)
Enjoy!
~Indigo Tides
"Come on, Lady Grace, I know you can do better than THAT!" cried Kale.
I gritted my teeth. If only he knew how frustrating this was… if he were in my shoes! I raised my weapon and pulled back. That string felt tighter than usual, and every muscle in my right arm protested against the weight being used for the umpteenth time today.
That arrow jiggled on the rest as I looked down the shaft. My target was only a couple of meters away and still peppered with holes from previous blows. With a sigh, I let the string fly and that arrow cut through the practice room, through the silence.
It pierced the target, its feathers quivering just outside of the gold ring. My coach gave me a tired smile as he strode over to the target.
"Looks to me like you've have had a long day there, Lady Grace," he stated, yanking the weapon out of the hay, "you wish to discuss it?"
I shook my head. Somehow, earlier today didn't go as well as I thought. My younger sister, Darla, had managed to convince her mentor into getting another person to spar with her. Unfortunately, that "other" person was me. Darla had at least 40 pounds to me, and stood a foot taller. So any reasonable person just could imagine how well those arduous three hours went.
"Well, maybe some rest will do you some good," offered Kale.
"Oh, please!" I moaned, slinging my bow around my shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow, okay Kale?"
He smiled, bid me good night, and strode out of the practice room. I followed suite, barely keeping my eyes open. My room lay on the top floor, or as mortals say, the pent house. It was quite grand for a bedroom, in my opinion, with floor to ceiling windows. The floor was solid gold, and all of the furniture followed the same theme. I smiled in pleasure, imagining the fluffy pillows and fat, gold blanket on my bed.
The stairs were far too tiring to climb, so I decided to take the elevator instead. But once the sculpted doors opened, there stood my personal bully.
"Hey there, punk. Ready for Round 2?" Darla growled, putting up her dukes. I ignored her and pressed the button for my room. Almost immediately, my stomach lurched as the floor quickly rose.
She probably took my silence as a "yes" because she then shoved me into the side to the tiny room.
"Hey. I'm talking to you, twerp. Jolie said I could try my other option again for spars, so looks like another week of pummeling you!" Darla grinning horribly, like she was forced to eat a lemon and enjoy it. Jolie, her mentor, actually wore the same smile often, especially when she got to coach Darla beating me to a pulp.
Darla was muscled, no doubt about that. She could have easily passed for a man, judging by her broad shoulders, bulging muscles and strong facial features. Her straight chestnut hair lay flat on her back, her eyes matching the same color. Except sometimes, when her mood was up, I could practically see tiny flames dance in her eyes.
I, on the other hand, looked far more different than her. Most people say I look a ton like my mother, but those are just opinions. I had rusty red, wavy hair that was cropped by my shoulders. My eyes were stormy grey, and freckles plastered across the bridge of my nose. Unlike my sister, I was quite petit, but still had enough muscle to keep up with my archery.
The elevator gave a tiny ding, and the doors flew open. I practically ran into my room before Darla got another word in. Though I try my best to ignore her, her words penetrate me like daggers. What a bully.
"But that won't stop me from becoming ruler of Venance!" I declared out loud, a stupid grin plastered on my face. Once I knew that Darla was out of earshot, of course.
In our kingdom, the tradition is that the eldest child of the king and queen of Venance will hand down the throne by their sixteenth birthday, mine being tomorrow. So, as you can see, the cycles go by pretty quickly.
Another tradition for our kingdom is that if the eldest child is a multiple, they compete in a competition that shows their best fighting quality. It's not to the death, of course, but the tradition kind of stuck when my great-great-great-great-great-great grandmother was accidently killed by her twin brother in a duel. Whoops.
That's why we (Darla and I) still have mentors. Working with us since age 8, they helped us find our strengths and weaknesses, and even made us stronger. Kale had always been like the uncle I never had; cropped, peppery hair, twinkling eyes, a bright smile, and an attitude that could get me out of almost any bad mood.
He knew from the start that I wasn't as strong and built like Darla, so he avoided the weapons like swords, maces, spears and the like. I, actually, was more interested in ranging weapon, like crossbows and bows. And to my great pleasure, he agreed with my choice of weaponry.
My first "official" bow was a gift from Kale about a year ago for my fifteenth birthday. It was a recurve bow, standing at 3 and a half feet long, the entire thing made out of sturdy oak. There are ancient etchings on the limbs of the bow, which go back in time to when my ancestors founded the kingdom. In a word, I loved it!
I pulled the bow off my shoulder and placed it next to my nightstand, where it was in my reach if I ever needed it in a rush. I then quickly changed out of my combat clothes and into a flannel night gown. Clapping my hands twice, the lights above me dimmed down to a soft glow, the only light source coming from the moons in the night sky. Sighing with pleasure, I nearly made a flying leap to my bed. My eyes were closing almost as soon as I pulled the blankets around me. The last thing I remember thinking before sleep claimed my consciousness was,
"Venance, get ready for your queen!"
A/N: So... thoughts? Ideas? Comments? Feel free to give me some advice! :)