This is a story older than time and scrubbed from the world. Once there were three sisters with hair as white as snow and eyes bluer than ice. They ventured far to the north, and there, they met the ancient ones. The ancient ones offered gifts, magic, immortality in an attempt to capture the sisters.
"Come to us and we will give you wisdom unmeasurable," to the eldest. "No", said Avarosa as she lifted her bow of ice, "I need no such thing from you."
They turned to the second, "Come to us and we will give you strength unrivaled." Brave Serylda scoffed as she raised her bola, "I already have all the strength I need."
And then, they turned to the third, to the youngest, Lissandra, and they said, "Come to us and we will give you power eternal." Lissandra raised her head and she asked, "But what do I need power for?" In that question, the Watchers found weakness.
In the nights, they whispered in her ears, of war and blood and death. They sent her dreams of her noble sisters dead. Bright scarlet red splayed across pale skin and pure hair—Defiled. Defeated. Destroyed. Lissandra dreamed each and every day of their doom. What were dreams slowly became reality. She saw Avarosa take a husband that would one day betray her. She saw Serylda slay monsters that would one day come for revenge. She saw the beginning of their doom. She saw the fracturing of the Freljord. So one day she turned to the Watches and she asked: "How do I protect them?"
And they said: "Come with us."
And she did.
They bleed her dry until there was no warmth left in her body. Lissandra did not scream. She thought of brave Serylda who never screamed even when the wounds were deep to the bone. They filled her with ice. Lissandra did not cry. She thought of wise Avarosa who never shed tears even when there was no hope. They gave her magic. They gave her immortality. They gave her power.
They took her sisters from her. Even now, centuries and millennium later, she does not forget the look of disgust etched across Serylda's face, the look of utter disappointment on Avarosa's. She forgets the treacherous collapse of stone, the crack of ice, the sting of defeat, but she does not forget this. Even in her sleep, she does not forget. For you, Lissandra whispers as she settles into a new host, always, forever for you.
Time passes. The cycles continue. Lissandra sees now what she could not have seen as a child. The Watchers were right. Humans were but pawns to their fates. Even her proud sisters had fallen to destiny. She alone, endures.
As the world turns on a new age, Lissandra plans her moves. She stands on a sheer cliff far above a meeting. Below her, two women stood, each with an army at their backs. She knew without doubt which one was Serylda's blood, and which one was Avarosa's. The two princesses of the Freljord. Their white hair flew like banners in the bitter wind. White hair. Lissandra allowed herself to laugh. Ice ran in their blood, and it seemed, time did not dull that. She raised her hands to the skies. Sisters, she thinks, sisters do you see me now? I will make the world our kingdom.
The last of this small collection. I was never very interested in Lissandra's story, so it should come as no surprised that her part is the weakest. Originally, I wanted the tying focus of this set to be how each of them felt about their homeland. Instead, the familiar element in each of these small chapters seems to be their hair. Oh well.