Her first memories were of dark rooms and empty hallways, cold arms and even colder hearts. She remembered, quite vividly for a child, the smell of her nursery, the wrinkles on her Nanny's face, the shafts of red light that spread across her bedroom floor. And of course, she remembered her father's laugh, the cruel and blackened hiss of a Cyclonian ruler.
But unlike most children, she could not conceive what her mother looked like. Could not remember ever being held or fondled by a person of relation. Could not remember what a young woman's voice was like. Never held anyone's hand other than her Nanny's, and that was only under extreme stress or pressure.
What had taken years to do to most had happened to her in a matter of months. As an infant, she was normal. Cried, ate, slept. But as soon as she hit the age of three, the darkness came, something she'd never escape. Growing up underneath the kingdom of red skies was bad enough. Growing up as a princess was even worse. Talons understood that if they wanted to keep their lives, never mind their jobs, they were to respect and obey the little toddler, who strode through the palace as if she owned it already. She learned fast, faster than any child most of her teachers had ever come across. And by the time she was four, she was a quick witted, sly, disobedient little child who brought down her wrath on any Talon, grunt, or teacher who happened to be in her way.
Only her Nanny was safe. The old woman had raised her from an infant; there was nothing she didn't know about the little girl.
How she loved to read, to explore, to tinker with crystals and metal parts.
Life was a steady stream of men, maps, and talk of war. The palace was a grand and mysterious place, important and big. Her father spent hours locked in his war room, talking to his generals. Every now and again, the alarms would ring, skimmers would take off, Talons would dash to their posts, but SHE would stay in her room, safe from the bloody gore of battle.
It was on one such day that you could say her life was changed. For the better or worse, she'd never truly know.
The skies were filled with blue and red orbs of energy. Disobeying her Nanny's orders, she crawled up to the window and peered outside with her dark, violet eyes.
"Those are Striker Crystals they're using. Very low grade," she pronounced.
"Lark, get away from the window."
"I will NOT. I want to see the crystals. And I think we're winning! Oh, look, they've brought out the Firebolts; I love watching those go off."
Nanny sighed. The little girl was impossible. She walked over to the window as well and decided on watching the fireworks. Watched the red skimmers. Wrung her hands with worry. One lucky shot could send them both to kingdom come.
Red lightning dashed from cloud to terra as the Firebolts were blasted from the Cyclonian battlements. Suddenly, there was a perfect explosion of blue. One of the smaller carriers in the front ranks plummeted to the Wastelands, and for a few moments, the battlefield was silent. And then, like some sort of invisible hand was sweeping across the sky, the blue army began to pull back, back from the red sky and the dark palace walls.
"I knew it." She smiled out the window. "I knew they'd go away."
Nanny grinned, rather meekly, before walking over to the door. Someone was knocking. There were a few hushed whispers Lark didn't bother making out; if it was important, she'd have been notified. Nothing happened in the palace without her knowing. She knew which Talon had fallen in love with the scullery maid, knew which Talons were drunks, knew where they smuggled in illegal crystals. She was small, her hearing was sharp, and her mind even sharper.
For a four year old, she was good at the business of spying.
Her Nanny came back.
"Keep looking out the window, Princess. I think we're going to see a small show."
A blue skimmer, escorted by several red ones, was swooping towards the landing strip directly below her window. The ROYAL landing strip. She raised an eyebrow as a lanky boy, no more than eighteen, landed his ride and got down. He wore a hawk on his uniform.
"Is he a prisoner?" She glanced at her Nanny. "Who is that?"
"He's one of the Storm Hawks. WAS, anyhow. Betrayed them and is joining Cyclonia."
Lark grimaced at her Nanny's grammer before continuing. "He defeated the Storm Hawks?" Her father was always talking about them and how much trouble they caused. "What's his name?"
"I dunno his REAL name, but your father has dubbed him the Dark Ace."
"He doesn't look very dark to me," Lark mumbled. She watched him walk across the runway, black hair ruffled by a passing breeze. He looked up in her direction. She glared at him, noticed his searing red eyes, his almost dangerous countenance. Noticed the sword he clutched in his hand. Noticed the smears of red on the blade. He seemed to squint. She drew away from the window; no traitor-turned-Talon grunt was going to look upon HER.
He was led away by the others, and soon, had disappeared into the palace. He was directly below her, now. The thought made her shudder. She never liked strangers, you never knew what they'd bring.
Another knock on the door. Nanny answered it again.
More hushed whispers.
Lark leaned against the windowsill and rolled her eyes. Finally, the man left, and her Nanny waddled over.
"Get dressed, Princess. Your father requests your presence in the throne room."
After a flurry of fabric and shoes, she was bustled out the door, her Nanny staying behind, forbidden to leave this level of the palace. Lark was led away by the two Talons outside, who constantly shot her worried looks, as if she could set them on fire with a glance.
The throne room was at the top of the palace. They took the stairs, at her request. She enjoyed watching her escorts huff and puff while she herself glided like a shadow up the dark steps. By the time they arrived, the two Talons were beet faced and winded. She was still pale, still small, and still stoic.
Doors clicked open for her.
She walked down the hallway, Talons bowing low, her escorts staggering on like wounded soldiers. Finally, they reached the inner chamber.
It was usually a dark and silent place, void of anyone other than her father. But today, it was filled with men, Talons of every rank, and someone new. The boy she had seen. The traitor turned Talon.
Her father, a tall and distant man, stood in the shadows towards the back of his throne room. Searing eyes. Black hair. Everyone felt him smile.
"My daughter. Lark, meet our latest edition to the great army of Cyclonia. Dark Ace?"
The boy turned around and faced the tiny shape that had just arrived and bowed. She could see the skepticism in his eyes, but did not address it. Returned his bow with a curt nod.
"Pleased to make your acquaintance, I'm sure."
Her father gave her a steely stare, before nodding at the door. "Dismissed."
She hated it when he did that. Treating her like one of his precious Talons. Turned her back on the new arrival. Glanced at him. Saw him smile, saw his face light up at her, and it wasn't one of pity, either. She almost froze in her steps.
Almost...
Later, back in her room, the sun had hit high noon, and she was hot. The curtains were wide open. She looked around for Nanny, who was conveniently sprawled on the couch, fast asleep. Lark strode over and tapped her shoulder. She didn't wake. Lark moved on from tap to total shove.
"Schung..." Nanny rolled over and snorted.
Great. Lark was too short to reach the curtain rope. She decided to leave the room and walk around a bit. No Talons were present in the hallway; she had free reign to wander as she pleased. The corridor was dark, but she knew it well, could navigate it with her eyes closed. She glided up and down the stairs, shooting glares at any Talon who looked her way.
Paused. One door was open. Looked around; she was in the captain's quarters. Peered inside. Thought she heard sighs. Entered.
"Hello?"
Oh. HIM.
The boy. Black hair combed back, kept in place by a new, shimmering piece of headgear. Had changed into red and green, a metal plate strapped onto his chest that bore the crest of Cyclonia. He had set down the red streaked sword, placed it on the floor. Clutched in one hand was a tangle of cloth, colored blue and silver. His old uniform.
"What are you doing here?" He squatted so that they could see eye to eye. "Wandering around all alone."
"It's MY home."
"Of course. I forgot." He smiled again. "How old are you?"
"Four years, two months, and three days," she said. "And YOU?"
"I'm eighteen," he muttered.
"So that makes you about fourteen years older."
"That's quick math for a four year old," he said with a smirk. "Impressive."
"My tutors teach me everything I need to know." She pointed at his sword. "Is that a Striker Crystal?"
He picked up the blade and unclasped the crystal. "Here. Medium grade."
She flipped it around in her pale hands and held it up to the light. Examined every nick in the blue stone. Squinted. "Nice," she whispered. "Very nice. It must fire well."
"I wouldn't know. I've only used it once." He glances at the red stains on his blade. "Only once."
His eyes turn downwards. She hands the crystal back and graces him with one of her rare smiles. Even says thank you. He says there's no problem, it was his pleasure. She turns and leaves, same as before. Shoots one final glance back. He stops her with another smile. Holds out the blue stone.
"Want it? I don't need it anymore."
She takes it, pockets it, and gives him a nod. Departs.
Holds in her hands the crystal that took down the Storm Hawks. Holds in her heart the possibility of...a friend.
OOO
A/N: Should I continue? Is it horrible? Is it good? Let me know if it should stay a one-shot.