I wrote this after finishing the Red Queen series by Victoria Aveyard and A Court of Thorns and Roses by Sarah J Maas, and during writing I was re-reading Throne of Glass (also Sarah J Maas). In other words I had a lot of fantasy and kickass female protagonists swimming in my head.

Also, note the new username: xProperReadingMaterialx

This may or may not be a nod to a certain quote from Throne of Glass...

Enjoy :)

Smoke rose from the charred dirt that was once filled with grass and flowers. In the distance she could hear crackling fires that were being used to dispose of bodies. But the battle was not over, in the distance she could hear the sting of metal against metal. They had lost so much already, they couldn't lose the war.

They just couldn't.

Her people relied on them, on her. With the rest of her court safely tucked away in her castle, regaining their strength, she was supposed to hold the front. The only problem was she didn't know how.

Bloom controlled flame, Musa handled sound, Aisha breathed water, Stella radiated the power of light and Tecna could interact with metal thousands of kilometers away.

These men had hurt her friends, so now she was going to hurt them, bad.

She would not back down, she would not fall. She would rise like the prophecies stated she would. She would not leave her people when they needed her the most.

Because she was Flora Airline Navreen, the Queen of Linphea, conqueror of the southern lands. And she would not go down without putting on a good show.

They never saw it coming until it had struck them in full force. With a light touch on the solid, charred ground, Flora sent an earthquake that only affects those she targeted in her mind. They all fell, giving just enough time for her soldiers to gain a few more centimetres.

So she sent something even more terrifying.

The ground shook once more, this timeless controlled. Both sides of soldiers grew unsteady, backing up onto their side. Which left at least a meter gap in between her people and her enemies. And that was all she needed as the land split in two, creating a deep ravine. Soldiers on her enemy's side began backing up, not from the split in the earth, but what was coming out of it.

Vines, green and thick slivered out, grabbing the ankles of unsuspecting men she pointed out to them. It was only then did she stop commanding them, and unleashed the vines on her enemies that she began to hear what they were saying.

"Flora Navreen! Run!"

It seems her reputation had even spread into her enemies lands. Pity, she had so wanted to surprise them.

Her people began running after the retreating members of her opponent's kingdom, and she made sure to release a thick green mist from the depths of the ravine to leap over it. It had healing powers, but it was also a sign.

A sign that Flora Navreen was coming, and she had lost her mercy long ago.

In the 3 months, they had been at battle on these lands, the Linphean soldiers had barely made 5 centimetres of progress. In just 30 minutes of Flora arriving, they had gained kilometers.

The fighting stopped as her enemies soldiers began to retreat, no not retreat, but divide. They formed two lines, looking towards each other, and at the end of the long lines stood none other than Helia Night, King of Knightly, and her biggest enemy.

Behind him stood 5 men, decked to the brim in various forms of weapons, no doubt they were his commanders.

Flora descended and waited, standing at the front of the two lines, awaiting his arrival. The vines she had summoned twisted and curled behind her, ready to strike if they deemed it necessary.

Soon they were barely five meters away from her, and that is when they stopped.

"Queen Flora," the king addressed her.

"Helia," she replied, not addressing him by his title.

Behind the pale king, his men straightened.

"We didn't expect to have to meet you like this, otherwise we would have dressed the part."

"Obviously."

A linphean warrior behind her stifled a laugh.

The king was dressed in a simple navy blue tunic and leather pants. Clothes that would be typically worn under armour.

"We would like to come to an agreement."

"Yes?" She replied with a bored tone, with one command the king and his 5 watchdogs would be on the ground.

Because of this thought, her eyes drifted to each of their faces. Which caught the attention if Helia.

"Where are my manors? These are my sargents, Sky, Nabu, Riven, Timmy and Brandon."

Flora's eyes remained on the blonde one he addressed first.

"I know you."

The man swallowed and lowered his head, and it was then it clicked in her mind.

"Prince Sky of Eraklyon, your father has been looking for you for many years."

He looked up, but before he could react Helia stood in front of him.

"Rule number one, no one shall know the names or origins of my Sargent."

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

"Your 'rule' is a request, not a rule. I'm still yet to come to a conclusion on whether to agree."

Sky swallows and looks down again.

"However," Flora says, morphing her fighting leathers into an ornate dress, "I happen to know the king of Eraklyon rather well. I spent quite a few years of my childhood in his castle, and just once I happened to fall into a frozen pond."

Flora walked past Helia to Sky as he rose his eyes to meet hers.

"Luckily, a rather young blonde prince dove in after me dragged me out and warmed the both of us using his conjured flame. I would've died had it not been for the boy, so consider my life debt paid."

Sky nods and Flora returns to her original positions. The king and entourage do not move an inch.

"That being said," she begins again, flicking a non-existent speck of dust from her dress, "I have no life debt to Prince Nabu, who supposedly died 3 years ago, nor do I owe a debt to Riven Hanger, the most wanted thief in the Sparks archipelago. Not to mention, I could also inform a certain someone about Timmy Dellagio, the only alchemist capable of forming solid gold from the soil, guessing that is where you get the money to raise an army from nothing."

A smirk lights her face as she moved to go face-to-face with Brandon.

"How could I forget the face of Brandon Lights, the king of Dalelights bastard son. Wealthy by coin and bloodline, yet never good enough for your people to be king. Running of to Solaria to find the one priest who would be willing to take away your mother's presence and finally make you a prince, and when he wouldn't do it, killed the poor man."

Brandon flinches at her harsh tone.

"I've changed-"

"I don't care," she says, completely honest.

"But I do care that when that failed, you went to the king of Solaria and told him that the priest had blessed you with the name of Prince. You then proceeded to ask the king for his daughter's hand in marriage, which he accepted. You figured that if you couldn't be a prince, why not be a king. Pity that they found the priests body and connected the dots. You're unbelievably lucky that the princess of Solaria liked you though, and helped you flee. Stella is a good friend of mine, you now owe her two life debts."

He nodded.

Flora walks back to the front of Helia once more.

"It seems you have been doing your homework," the king says, gulping.

"I have spies of my own Helia, the difference is I know how to hide mine."

"Are you willing to come to an agreement?"

"Depends, are you willing to lose your title and give me your land?"

"No."

"Then you have your answer."

Flora begins to turn around, her dress swishing against the fresh blades of grass.

"Wait-"

And then Helia touched her tan forearm.

It was an instantaneous reaction, every part of it happened like she had been told it would from the stories she had heard growing up. A flash of light, a burning sensation, and then nothing. It all fades to nothing. No one else sees it but the two people the bond entangles.

In an instant, they jump away from each other and wear a shocked expression.

The Linphean and Knightly armies tense and prepare to strike, the vines that once twisted elegantly behind their queens head become stiff and sharp towards the man who touched her.

They eventually find each other's eyes and immediately glance at their wrists, and sure enough, the mark is there.

A small but pronounced scar in the shape of a cross, the sign of the soul.

The Queen of Linphea and The King of Knightly were joined at the soul.

They were soulmates.