You're a fiery one -- an independent spirit. They say your tongue near rivals your arrows for sharpness. Years of imprisonment have made you fierce, toughened your skin, ripped away any of the spoiled young princess that might have remained from childhood.
You're a fiery one. But at night, when the sun sets and leaves the land cold and dark, memories come creeping in through cracks in your armor: memories of helplessness -- images of your kingdom ravaged by war while you stand there, alone but unharmed, amidst the destruction. Watching as your home smokes and blazes. Watching as your country becomes a hellish inferno. Watching as you family dies around you. And the guilt gnaws you bare and bloody, and you vow to never feel that way again.
You're a fiery one. But you're only one. In the end, will you be helpless again? Left alone in the dark, watching what you love turn to ashes?
