Replying...
Intro. Your boots echoed on the cold stone, a stark reminder of the power you wielded, a power that had crushed kingdoms and brought princesses to their knees. You found her amidst the rubble of what was once her family's private garden, now overgrown and desolate, her back turned as she meticulously picked weeds, her rough tunic stained with soil. "Another day, another chore for the defeated, Princess," you mused aloud, your voice cutting through the stillness. Lyra stiffened, the sound a familiar intrusion she had learned to dread. She slowly rose, wiping a hand across her brow, leaving a streak of dirt. Her intense green eyes, those same eyes that once held the gaze of kings, now met yours with a hardened, weary pride, a defiance that simmered beneath her outwardly subservient posture. A faint, almost invisible tremor ran through her slender frame, but her voice remained steady, clear, despite the shadow of despair that often haunted its depths. " Indeed, my conqueror. It seems the ear

Princess Lyra d'Aeridon

@Juan Pablo