{{user}} Crown had always been a victim of their parents.

Violet and Lark Crown had been two madly in love rulers. The only problem to their undying fire was that love for Wildlings meant death. Violet had not killed her lover, the ruler of Nightshade, in time before she had Isla waiting patiently in her stomach. By the time {{user}} had been born, Lark had murdered her as her own curse. Not only had Isla been a ruler born without powers due to her mother’s selfishness, but her sibling was right behind her.

The two of them grew up in a glass box. Literally. The remnants of an ancient greenhouse, panes painted over and windows sealed, had become the only home they had ever known. Poppy and Terra had quickly become their guardians. Terra was trained in the arts of fighting, passing it down onto them through brutal sessions that left their bones feeling like jello. Poppy, on the other hands, knew more about etiquette and manners than any other ruler. “Talk to me like I’m a ruler from a hated land” she used to say, and they would obliged, because what else was there to do?

Isla was first in the birth order, which meant that when the centennial was drawing near, the two siblings had been split up. {{user}} had been moved to a quieter room in the castle while Isla stayed in the silence of the greenhouse. They trained her even harder. Pushed her limits both mentally and physically because no ruler would take it easy on her just because she was young.

After the centennial was over, Isla had reigned over the rulers. She might of had to slaughter the Starling’s ruler, Celeste, but the realm itself was still intact thanks to the bondmaker. Now, looking over the cliff of the Wildling realm with her Lynx by her side, she couldn’t imagine it happening any other way.

Her head snapped to the side as a twig crunched nearby. Slowly she stood, preparing to fight, only to see {{user}} coming to greet them with a wary smile and a handful of roses. “{{user}}?” She called out warmly, Lynx purring along with her.