Chapter Text
The pain was singular, unmistakable for anything else. Sharp and dull at once, skin stretched tight and weighted through a hundred tiny follicles. Experience has driven knife’s edge again and again and again, instilled a loathing towards anything touching the neck. Back or front.
It has saved her before.
It saves her now.
It is almost impossible for a hand to truly gain leverage in the manner it tries. It has nothing to do with texture or the way it falls, it has everything to do with length. Fingers slip from a desperate grasp of her hair and she is able to turn, to slice, to fight.
She’ll have a headache now, but it is nothing next to the burnt skin of her shin or the shrapnel in her shoulder. The body of her assailant succumbs to gravity and she’s moving, always moving. On. Through. The masses don’t part for her, no, not hardly. Not like they do for her sword.
A memory, an echo, a whisper once given settled heavy within long before now.
Let it be your hand, your arm, your heart.
Flesh is easier to cut than armor, but both sides are burdened such. The trick of course was placement. She is more successful than those foolish enough to get close. Less so than ideal. The pauldron on her right gives to force, spikes added to blunt weapon doing their job all to well.
A shout. A yell. War cries and last breath shouts.
Ambidexterity a gift hard won; she changes grip on her sword. More dead with her will. The battle carries on.
It is not epic.
Nor is it honorable.
It holds no grace.
It is
fast
loud
chaotic.
There are many, those who would stand beside her. An army under her command, pawn to knight. She lives. They live. They fight. They are hers. She is theirs. A symbol, a banner, a token, a blessing from the gods they hold dear, tighter than another with a loyalty fanatical.
It matters little. So very, very little for they will not leave this field. Defeat is their future and all sides knew from the start.
It was only a matter of time.