I have been around for over a thousand years now, but unlike most, I am neither dead nor alive. There is something inside me that has yet to meet its full potential, but I suppose I should first tell you how I got here…
I was born in a decent-sized village by the sea. I was an only child because my mother died while bringing me into this world, so I was raised by my father (or more so I raised him). He tended to forget I was a girl, so I grew up in mud and fire- mud mostly because I used to play more with the boys, and fire because I helped my father who was a blacksmith. I knew my weapons and I knew how to defend myself. This does not mean that I, in any form, was mistaken for male or that I was vulgar like the men from my village. I actually grew up to be a little bit of a seductress… and a body…well let's just say that, "milk does a body good," and I drank a lot of it.
I met my husband when I was sixteen. He was handsome and utmost agreeable, (more so than his brother who was a conceded womanizer with his brain in his pants). The most charming part is that he was a prince. Yes, I know that sounds a little "fairy tale-ish," but royalty was popular when I was human, and as the story goes, my husband ended up dying in battle from an arrow to the heart. His brother brought him back to me and we burned him and sent him out to sea. It had only been a short while that we were married, so I never got to bare his children. After a few months my deceased husband's drunken brother broke my door down and demanded I marry him to "honor" his brother (foolish boy, honoring your brother is not lying with his wife) but time came and went, and he started to grow on me (like cancer). He confessed his love and the jealousy he had over his brother and I, and soon I found my heart full again. He later became king, and I bore him two sons and a daughter. Life was perfect, or so I thought...
