Sparrow rubbed her cheek knowing that the evident scar would be there. She had always felt that scar first, the one that started at her chin and ended at her hairline. It was pink against her tan skin, therefore sticking out like a sore thumb. There were more scars, but this scar was special to her. It was her first and some old villager from Oakfield had told her that, "Your first was always your best." She remembered how she had gotten it to, all those years ago. Theresa had sent her after The Hero of Will, to Brightwall. Yes, charming Brightwall, she sneered at her own reflection in the mirror just thinking about the town.

She remembered the shard summoning Lucien's minions upon her. The way her heart beat in her chest when they charged at her. She was a master of Will (the town's folk had even called her Conjurer) and usually kept a distance, but the sheer terror of having someone charge at her made Sparrow loose all ability to cast a spell. Sparrow being brave pulled out her sword, a trusty cutlass she had made herself and killed the man without second thought. Her triumph had distracted her. Before she could react the second one had come and sliced her face with his sword. She had remembered the pain as she fell, her head hitting the stone of steps on the way up to the tower where Garth was. She cast a raise dead spell to keep the minions distracted before her vision blurred away.

Sparrow had remembered giving up. She wanted to just lie there, to the void with Lucien, Garth, and even dear sweet Hammer. She didn't care anymore, she had thought of the scar she would receive, how it would dampen the fires of her beauty.

To the void with that to she didn't care what people thought of her beauty. The signs of Will were already all over her body at the time and she was very muscular for a woman, but there was this charm to her that people adored. Her flowing black hair always tied into a scarf of some sorts, her skills as a blacksmith, or maybe just the way she carried herself. Sparrow had never been a woman of words, but the way she moved had always drawn people to her.

She remembered being lost in her thoughts at the time, thinking of everything and nothing. Just as she had the night she was shot out of Lucien's window. Then something had touched her face, a wet thing. She opened her eyes slowly. The guards were almost done with the creatures she had cast upon them. She looked up to see Rusty, her fateful hound looking down at her with those big dopey eyes of his. Just like the night she had lost Rose. Rose. The thought came to her, a sudden storm of rage and anger. Rose was dead and Lucien was alive. I must avenge her to whatever cost she had thought at the time. She had then slowly picked herself up and staggered towards the minions killing each and every one of them. She was almost to Garth and the blood from the cut was burning into her eye, but she didn't care.

Sparrow looked upon the minions and spat at them. She then became silent, mournful and said in a soft voice.

"For Rose."

Rusty had looked at her, urging her to go on. Sparrow had choked a sob and scratched Rusty behind his ears. "You saved my life." She had said.

Little did she know this would not be the last time he did so.

Sparrow clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying. I do not cry, Heroes do not cry. Sparrow remembered poor Rusty jumping in front of Lucien's bullet; she remembered her decision at The Spire.

Those three cards had been presented, Sparrow had not even thought. She had picked to save all, but her loved ones from The Spire without hesitation. Why? She didn't know. She had deduced that no one should have to suffer the way she did. No one should have to be told their daughter and their husband were brutally murdered. No one should have to lose his or her best friend in the same night. No one else should die because of Lucien's evil. He had done more than enough.

The people loved her for it. She had not asked for the statue but received it anyway. She had not asked for the adoring letter but got it anyway. She had not asked to become queen but with the support of her new friends she got that to and slowly gained to courage to take the role. The people saw her a selfless goddess, but this was not true. Her stomach twisted at the thought of The Shadow Court. She remembered Reaver.

What a sick twisted man he truly was. Before he had sent her to deliver his object d'art, she only thought of him as an arrogant ass. He was rather good looking though and Sparrow being a shameless flirt didn't pass up on opportunities with this handsome man, but it never went further than words. Sure he had killed his sculptor and his painter, but who hasn't killed before. Sparrow had delivered Reaver's object without even thinking wondering into Wraithmarsh with a pure soul and a good heart. The screams of the Banshee still erupted in her brain, refusing to come out.

"Did you know Rose didn't die right away from that shot? No, she watched you fall through that window, heard as your body thudded against the ground and cried bitter tears before a final shot from Lucien ended her life."

No, No, No! Sparrow covered her hands over her ears forcing herself to repeat the scene at The Shadow Court. She had pressed the seal into the girl's hands because she was terrified of losing her life before avenging Rose. Terrified she would never see her husband and child again. Sparrow chuckled darkly to herself. Little did I know she thought. The girl's scream of agony burned into her subconscious, her wrinkled face had haunted her in her nightmares. It was Sparrow's lowest moment. All her life Sparrow had strived to be good and make the world better, but there at the mercy of The Shadow Court she was no better than Reaver. She was weak and selfish.

She hated the Pirate King. She hated him for all he was. He was a perfect reflection of her in her darkest moments. A hero fallen from grace. She would never be him. When he had left with Garth for Samarkand, she felt terribly sorry for Garth. While she never found Garth interesting, she still respected him and his power. She did not respect Reaver. She was a horrible marksman, so Reaver would outmatch her there on every turn and she couldn't stand it. When Reaver had made a nauseating return to Bowerstone without Garth Sparrow became worried. To keep him under control Sparrow had given a small portion of the factories in the growing Industrial, but made sure he did not get to much power, just enough to satisfy that evil head of his.

She pushed her thoughts away from the now Pirate Businessman and turned them to Hammer. Sparrow smiled thinking of her. Hammer was her best friend and one of the dearest people to Sparrow. She remembered Hammer remarking that Sparrow didn't talk much. Sparrow was very shy in the beginning of her quest, but through her time with Hammer she had learned to come out of her shell and with Hammer's urging even met her husband. But Hammer was gone, up North with the Warrior Monks. She knew it was best for Hammer, but Sparrow missed her terribly.

Looking at herself in the mirror Sparrow laughed to herself. She did this every day, she had always reflected on her journey and the hardships, but also the bright spots.

As if right on the queue for bright things in Sparrow's life Jasper burst through the door interrupting Queen Sparrow's thoughts. She smiled at the butler who had become a member of the family himself.

"Your majesty, sorry to interrupt, but the children begged for you to come to the gardens to see them."

"Right behind you Jasper," she had said.

She fallowed Jasper in her nightgown, not caring at all of what anyone thought. Everyone who lived in the Castle were members of her family. She remained comfortable around them.

Sparrow looked upon her two children playing with sticks in the garden. After her husband and child had been killed, Sparrow had remarried. With him these two blessings had come, he had died of fever shortly after the second child was born. Sparrow vowed to watch the children until her dying day after that and make sure they always had a mentor.

"Hello my lovelies," Sparrow said kneeling in the grass. Her children ran over and they both hugged her tightly. "What are you two doing?"

"We're learning how to be Heroes!" Her son Logan pronounced. He took after his mother with his black hair and grey eyes, but had the creamy white skin of his father. He was ten and the stress of the world had yet to come crashing down on him. He gave his mother a winning smile.

"Sir Walter is teaching us!" Her daughter said. Nelly was six, but still had all the beauty that would grace her forever. Her light brown curls tumbled around her face; her big brown eyes sparkled with hope, joy, and life. She wore a dirty shirt and trousers. Jasper nearly had a heart attack when he saw the ensemble, but Sparrow laughed and told Nelly that it was amazing.

"When's he coming back?" She heard Nelly question. Nelly was always the more talkative of the two siblings and always asked questions.

"Soon, he's just taking care of business in Industrial, he'll be back before you know it," Sparrow said.

"Is he visiting Top Hat Man?" Logan asked.

Sparrow laughed harder than she rightfully should have. Top Hat Man was the name Logan had given to Reaver. She loved it because it was just so insulting towards the man. Making him look like a child's toy. She never knew where Reaver's new affinity for ridiculous top hats came from, he just showed up one day with a whole new look. He went on and on about the fabrics, which at that point Sparrow had tuned out.

"If Walter isn't coming back soon then who will train us?" Nelly asked. Then she put on her puppy dog eyes that could get her almost anything.

"Oh all right," Sparrow said. She stood from her spot and Logan tossed her a stick, which she promptly caught. "Every time Walter trains with you what do you always ask?" Sparrow loved it when her children said this together. She always wanted to hear it.

"Teach me how to be a hero!" They said at the same time.

Sparrow smiled at her two children. "All right then! Let's Begin!"