Heartbeat. {Sienna's Narrative.}

Everyone will be killed eventually, there's no escaping it. You can't hide. You can't run..

Stirring in her sleep, Sienna shot up in her bed, beads of sweat on her face, from the same recurring nightmare. The whole kingdom would be killed, eventually. Her father seemed mad to her, but maybe she was just delusional. She'd loved him, at a point, but lately, his work seemed pointless to her. In her mind, her father was a murderer, and instead of killing them, he should be killed. She'd always wanted to know what - or who - put the crazy idea of a magic-free kingdom would be a better kingdom. Magic was the amazing thing about the kingdom. Without it, what would there be?

Sienna stepped out of bed, and sashayed into her private loo, taking her bowl of water to wash her pale face. Nothing felt the same anyone. Her father wasn't who he was when he was with her mother. When she was killed, she felt adandoned, like the only person who'd truely loved her was gone. Her father did love her, right? That's why he kept her here - to protect her. What if everything she thought was wrong?

Blinking, she looked down at the ground below her. All of this shock gave her a headache. All she wanted, was to be eight years old again, just to feel the gentle arms of her mother, wrapped around her. That was the only way she felt safe. Even behind bricks and guards, she didn't feel truely protected. She needed to get away from this. The one thing that did make her feel different, was when she was with Nicholai. She'd barely spent any time with him, and she'd felt like she'd known him for centuries. But feeling that way for a sorceror was wrong. Everything she did was.

She took a few steps, opening her giant closet, and stepping inside to pick a dress out. Maybe she didn't need to follow her father's commands any longer. She couldn't take his strong fist above her, crushing her beneath it. She needed to escape. If she could only find a way. She slipped into a dress, then pulled her long, dark locks into a tight bun.

She had to do what was right, stand up for what she believed in. That was what he father had taught her. She would find Nicholai, and join the Resistance. If only she knew where he lived, or stayed. Pursing her lips, she tapped her fingers gently on the soft skin of her face. Maybe she could get lucky and find him in the village. She grabbed her cloak, and quietly tiptoed to find a quiet exit out of the castle.

Finally, a taste of freedom.