Disclaimer: I do not own Gundam Seed or Gundam Seed Destiny or its characters and names. This is a work of fanfiction, not for profit.

A/N: This story takes place in an AU olden times setting. There are no mentions of character names in this fic, but I'm hoping that the central characters through their descriptions, roles and relationships would not be hard to discern. Also, there is a lot of time shifts between scenes, a lot of the scenes takes place in the past. Sorry if there is any confusion. Also, includes character death. Sorry!

The Queen

They called her Queen.

Monarch of the Eternal Kingdom. Ruler of the ancient cities. Leader of a proud people. Supreme Commander of a formidable army.

But she did not feel deserving of such a title. After all, she was not of the people, the land, their cities. Their legacies were not hers. She had inherited it all from her deceased husband. The prince she had married for only a week before he rode to war and never came back.

Then the king had gone not long after. Age and illness claimed him, and he never did see the end of the war he had started. Though he had lived long enough to see it claim the lives of his wife and son and the end of his lineage.

For she was not with child when the prince was killed on the battlefield.

Still they called her Queen.

There was no one else to go by that title. The line had ended, and now a foreigner sat at the head of its table. And as undeserving of the title she may be, she took it. Along with all its burdens and responsibilities. She would protect the people that were now hers. Shield the cities from the flames that licked at its heels. She would finish the war that her prince had died fighting.

The crown weighed heavily atop her head as she marched into the war room.

A once prosperous land had been burnt and ravaged by the flames of war. Food, resources and stability were not as easy to come by and it pained her to know that the people of this proud and noble heritage were no longer so proud of their blessings. Yet they were still prideful. Like the old king, they would not give up their land so easily. Each loss only made them tougher. Hardened their resolve until there was no end in sight, an endless cycle.

She often wondered what her father-in-law had hoped to accomplish when he first set out on such a foolish endeavor. To wager war was not an easy task, and an even harder feat to succeed in. Was it to ensure his family name would be remembered in the history books? Did he desire the riches of another city, land of another country? Or perhaps it was because he was too prideful, assured of his certain success, and unwillingness to admit his own defeat that the war had started and lingered.

She would ask herself of this all the while knowing the real answer; death was always avenged by death. It was vengeance the old king sought against his enemies, to right the injustice that had killed his queen and perhaps qualm the rage that had burned in his heart. Sadly that thirst for revenge had killed his only son.

Was that what she wanted as well? Was she to become an avenger herself, seeking justice for the untimely death of her beloved? Or could she finally end the bloodshed that begot more bloodshed.

She hoped to end it.

But then again, so did the one she loved, and he never came back from his mission.

She wiped the invisible tears from her face. A queen could not afford to display her heartbreak on her sleeves. He was counting on her to rule his kingdom, protect his people. She was not going to break her promise to him.

"Will you be my queen?"

Her heart stopped beating at his words. Was he asking her what she thought he was?

His brilliant eyes penetrated her gaze, she could feel him looking into her heart. "I couldn't imagine anyone else by my side." He admitted to her, this time with a hint of shyness, he smiled softly at her, nervously, awaiting her answer.

"My Prince." She uttered, finding her voice and surprised she could still talk amongst the euphoria she felt. And she smiled back, with golden gems glinting in her eyes and repeated his words. "I couldn't imagine anyone else by my side."

Six years, three months, eight days.

That was how long the war had waged for. It was well into its first year when she first wedded her prince. It had been two years since she had last seen him when the news of his fall arrived at the palace gates. The old king passed away in despair another year later.

She had been leading the army for two years now and was not naive enough to believe the war would end anytime soon. Peace talks had long broken down. Both sides had lost too much to give in to the other. Total annihilation seemed to be the only solution. But she would not allow it to pass. She would not allow her people, the people her husband loved, to fall.

"Your highness. The city gates have been breached."

"Ready my armor and sword. We will not be defeated tonight."

The first time she had picked up a sword was when she was eight. Born out of curiosity, she had often awed at the huge pieces of metal that her guards carried. She was always an adventurous child, a mischievous child her father would call her, and on a day when she snuck out of her room and ran down to the courtyards, she found men in armor sparing on the grounds and decided to watch.

Her eyes were wide with wonder, so impressionable at that age, she walked over to a spare sword lying on the ground and lifted it with her tiny hands. The weight was too much for her to carry and she toppled backwards with the sword clashing towards her.

She screamed, but did not feel its weight crashing over her, piercing her tiny bones. When she peeled open her clenched eyes, her innocent orbs met a man much bigger than her. He caught the sword easily in his hand and used the other to carefully lift her off the ground.

"A young lady like you should not be out here." He chided, brown eyes softening against his tanned skin. He watched with amusement as the girl's eyes never left the sword in his hand.

"Someday your brother will wield a sword like this." He told her.

"Can't I as well?" She had asked back.

Slews of arrows shot across the night sky, some claiming its target in the darkness, some missing by a hair's breath. The city lit up in flames, its brilliance stole the light from the stars.

As she watched her soldiers fall before her, soaking the ground with black blood, she thought to herself, No. Her heart broke. Today would not be the day I see his smiling face again.

He placed a white rose carefully into the braid of her hair, affixing it there while brushing loose golden strands away from her face.

"There." He said feeling accomplished with himself. That beautiful smile, that should be sinful in its enchanting lure, graced his handsome face. "Now my lady can not claim that a boy had never given her flowers."

She blushed under his affectionate gaze and only turned redder when he leaned in closer and placed his lips on hers.

And she smiled as he kissed her.

She pushed herself up again from where she had fallen. This was not the first battle she fought, but perhaps this was the closest they had come to killing her. Her screams were muffled by the screams around her, her shaking hands desperately tried to stay steady as she pulled out the dagger that had been pierced into her shoulder. Its owner was lying in a pool of his blood at her feet.

"One more tug." She clenched, and reminded herself that pain was good. Pain meant she was still alive. Pain meant she could still protect this city, even if it also meant another day without him. With that thought she wrenched the dagger from her bones and realised numbingly that it did not hurt. At least not as much as her heart still bled for his loss.

Bending down, she kicked the dead man free from her sword and wielded it once more. It was as heavy as the first time she had held a sword. Only this time she did not fall.

"For my prince." She chanted.

"The Federation will not take kindly to this union. They might mistake it as a sign of our allegiance."

Her brother did not oppose the marriage. He opposed the war. And what her union with the prince would bring to their kingdom. She did not blame him for that. Her brother was a prince too, who loved his kingdom and its people.

Her father turned to her then, eyes full of wisdom and love. "Tell me, my dear child, what do you want to do?"

And she thought to herself she could not bear to be apart from her family, but she could not live without him.

With gentle hands calloused by fighting, he had lifted the veil from her head. Her sparkling eyes stared up at him. One look and it was enough to fill him with happiness for a lifetime.

His fingers traced the hair that had fallen over her strong cheeks. She had cut it short for their wedding. His eyes filled with remorse and gratitude. He knew it had not been easy. Not the cutting of her long braids, but what it had symbolised. She had chosen him over her country, and from this day forward, she was no longer a princess of Orb but a future queen of Zaft. The cutting of her hair meant the cutting of her ties with her homeland. This would be the last time she would see her family. Her sacrifice would unlikely do anything to appease the Federation who had been opposed to their marriage but it meant the world to him.

"Thank you." He whispered to her, eternally grateful that she had chosen him to be in her life. Then with all his heart he swept her up in a kiss, enduring, devoted, he hoped to speak to her of all his love for her.

"I now pronounce you husband and wife."

She had often wondered, had her brother not been the next in line to the throne, had she been an only child, or had she been the older one of the twins, and her brother had been her sister, would she have left Orb for him, if she was the heir to the throne?

Perhaps yes, most likely no. She knew herself. She was a person bound by honor, family and perhaps most of all duty. Had Orb's fate been resting on her shoulders instead of her brother's, she would have carried it till her last breath. For that, she was thankful for her brother's burdens, it had given her the freedom to choose the man she loved, and now it allowed her to protect his people while her brother guarded the land of their father.

She mused on this sometimes, because the moment she said yes to him, was the moment her life changed forever. Had she stayed in Orb, would she have been spared this heartache, or would the emptiness still follow her around from his absence?

Then she decided she was wrong. It was not the moment she said yes. It was the moment she first laid eyes on him, and he had mistaken her for a boy. That was the moment that changed her life forever.

Sometimes she wished she never met him. Most times she wished she could meet him all over again.

"The forest is no place for a prince."

He had been riding for two days from Zaft's most north-eastern city, taking a shortcut through the forest roads. This was his first foreign diplomatic visit. His first time to Orb. His mother had told him to make a good impression. His father expected him to make a good impression. As they were riding they were ambushed by a group of bandits. Before he could draw his sword he had been rescued.

"Let my men escort you to the palace."

Thinking she was a he, a patrol guard sent to greet him, he had said, "Thank you good sir."

She smiled amused at him behind the hood she wore, as he stared intrigued at her, thinking her voice sounded pleasant like a girl's.

Her brother was supposed to escort the Prince of Zaft to the palace gates. However not knowing what route the prince had taken, her brother had set out for the western plains. She chanced it up north in the forest growths and took two guards with her along the northern path. As luck would have it, she had been right. When she saw a group of bandits surround the prince and his company, she had ordered her archers to shoot.

She turned away from the eyes of the prince intending to lead them back to the palace when her horse spooked by a snake had sent her falling off her saddle. She did not hit the ground. When she opened her clenched eyes she was met with his. Eyes like beautiful emerald gems, as green as the foliage around them and as deep as the seas. For all of a second she was engulfed by his being, his arms wrapped firmly around her when he had broken her fall.

Hers he thought were like the burning sun that lit up the sky. Eyes so bright that it ignited a fire within him. It was then he realised with her chest pressing down on his, that this was no boy who had saved him from thieves. She was a girl, the most beautiful he had seen.

"Forgive me my lady."

He sat up and brought her up with him then blushed as red as her as he unfurled his arms from her body.

She removed her hood and revealed golden tresses in braids falling behind her back, her eyes sparkled under the sun, and her spirit untamable like fire. She smiled at him, shyly, boldly, embarrassed and amused.

"Thank you, Prince."

With that she dusted off her clothes and slid back onto her horse.

It was only when they arrived at the palace gates and her caretaker had run up to her, chiding her for her state of dress did he discover that the girl he had thought was a boy, was in fact a princess.

That night he asked her for a dance and she blushed as she accepted.

She clenched her teeth tight as her wound was sowed together by pieces of string.

"I'm sorry my Queen, just a few more stitches." The doctor reassured her as the needle pierced through her flesh once more.

When he was finished and his attendant had wiped the sweat from her face, she turned to him and gathered her will.

"How many?" She asked dreading the answer, but it was her duty to know.

"My Queen, perhaps it is best if you rest for now."

"How many?"

"Eight hundred, my Queen." The doctor relented. "Most of them died at the medical wards, too many to treat, the bleeding and infection was what got them."

He could see the devastation on her face, and wondered if this was how she looked when she first learnt of the news of their beloved prince. Then she closed her eyes, and when she opened them they were calm.

"Someone can take my bed." She said as she pushed herself up and off the cot.

His assistant tried to stop her but she simply pushed him away. Then reached for and gathered her sword.

"Where are you going?" He asked, he could barely believe his eyes.

"There's still a fight going on and I have a city I'm responsible for." She said as she left the shelter of the medical camp.

The doctor blinked after her. What he saw could not be human, with her golden hair caked with dried blood blowing softly behind her nape, her proud profile illuminated by the fires outside, she had disappeared back out to the battlefield like a warrior goddess.

Perhaps there was still hope left for Zaft.

She did not know her mother. She could not for the life of her remember her mother's face. She did hear stories though, of how she had died. Killed by an insurgent after her father's throne.

"Why did you not seek vengeance?" She had asked her father when she was older.

A hundred years aged on her father's face. "To kill another because one is killed would only lead to more killing." He told her, then turned to her with eyes that spoke of a thousand pains. "What would you do my child?"

It was then she realised that wisdom was not easily gained without sacrifice as she stared hard at the deeply etched lines on her father's once youthful face.

"I don't know. But is killing always wrong when you're protecting someone or something precious?"

Her father never answered her question. Neither did he object when she picked up a sword and trained alongside her brother.

She was protecting his legacy. The legacy of his forefathers that had built this nation from the ground up. It was the only thing left of his that she had. This nation and its people, she would not let them fall.

Victory did not come easy, but it did come.

The enemy had attacked them at their weakest. With the majority of the army out fighting in the east, the Federation had sought to topple the capital in their absence. Almost did they succeed.

But the tides turned.

The army returned in time. Zaft's troops swept in and disposed of the remaining enemy soldiers swiftly. Aprillius was saved from being burnt to the ground. As he alighted from his horse, the general sought his piercing blue eyes around the wreckage of the city knowing she would not be the kind of queen that hid behind the palace walls.

"Commander!" He shouted out as he spotted her amongst her loyal soldiers, and rushed towards her.

She heard his voice and turned around to find him embracing her in a swift hug. She winced at the pain in her shoulder but still smiled at him as he let go.

"General. It's so good to see you."

"My Lady, I would strongly advise against such an absurd thing! Women do not belong on the battlefields." He exclaimed as he chased after her.

He had just ridden into the capital the night before and already she had ordered his departure, only this time she was to accompany. He saw her come to a halt before him and when her eyes met his, they were not the eyes of a helpless princess.

"General, I will forgive you for forgetting my coronation was 2 weeks ago as you were not there to attend. But from now on, you will address me as Queen or Commander."

They were the eyes of a leader.

He felt his lips go dry. "Yes, Commander."

"Good. We will ride out dawn tomorrow." She said with such fearlessness like it wasn't the first battle she would be riding into.

He wondered, was there anything that could break her?

She turned away from him but her presence lingered. "Can I trust you to watch my back?"

He stared after her backside and knew she didn't just mean on the battlefields. She was not of Zaft royal blood, she had married into it, and although a princess in her own right, she was still a foreigner. There would be many difficulties and enemies to face within the high council and military ranks.

He remembered the last words he had vowed, not to a prince, but to a childhood friend.

"I promised him I would."

"You're a fool!" He shouted after her as she left his council. "If you think the Federation would agree to this peace treaty…if you think that the people who have lost their brothers, sons, fathers would accept this…or accept you, a foreigner wench as their monarch…"

"Watch your tongue councilor." She bit at him cutting him off. "The next time you insult me I will have it cut out, and you thrown into a pit of snakes."

She watched as the older man visibly flinched, but the hate did not die from his eyes.

The first assassination attempt on her life came during the peace talks.

She had only been queen for the lesser part of a year when she sought to end the war. Her people were tired and she had hoped the Federation was the same. This war couldn't go on forever, and the stubbornness against a treaty had died with the old king.

Decked in the imperial regalia of Zaft, she made her way to the council chambers to meet with the Federation ambassador. As she approached, with the train of her robe trailing behind her along the hallway, the stained glass windows by her side shattered with a loud clash. Her guard pulled her backwards as an arrow whizzed past her implanting itself into the wall opposite.

All she could remember was the warm liquid trickling from the young man's body as he shielded his body on top of her, protecting her from the onslaught of arrows that soon rained on them. All she could see was the one colour staining her golden robes.

When he got there, he found her cradling a boy lifeless in her arms. Her dress was red, soaked with blood. Twenty arrows had pierced the body of her guard.

Bending down to her he asked, "Are you hurt my Queen?"

She did not reply but the tears in her eyes told him she was not okay. And he realised the answer to his earlier question, that yes she could be broken. That perhaps she had looked like this the day he died. Completely distraught and ridden with grief that would shatter anyone's heart to watch.

"I'm sorry my Queen." He offered his sympathies to her as he carefully pried her fingers from clutching onto the dead boy's body. Then he lifted her into his arms, too broken to walk on her own feet, he carried her down the hallway while she muttered to him how she had known the guard that gave his life, that he was the guard her prince had left her, her only companion in the palace and how he had loved to play the piano.

The peace talks were a failure.

If anything it only incited more hatred and rage. The foreign ambassador had died in the chaos and a Zaft high councilman was charged with treason.

She watched as they led him to the gallows, not once did he falter, his head held proud like a true Zaft noble, his eyes still held his burning belief that he was right until his last breath.

Only later on did they find out that he was not the culprit behind the assassination attempt. The assassins were sent by the Federation, seeing it as an opportunity to dispose of a feeble woman at the throne of Zaft. The Zaft royal family would have ended with her and a civil war would have broken out amongst the nobles scrambling for power. It would have been an easy victory for the Federation had she died.

Instead, the councilman known for his contempt for the Queen had been framed and the foreign ambassador but a sacrifice.

When she found out, she wept in her chambers, crying for an innocent man condemned, and that one day she may face him so that justice may be done onto her.

Her shoulder continued to hurt. Months now, after it had healed and she could still feel the blade sinking into her flesh. Sometimes she would dream of that night when her city almost fell, she could still see the young eyes of the boy that had stabbed her, so young yet filled with so much hate directed at her who was the head of the enemy. Eyes that turned lifeless when she rammed her sword down his torso. When she closed her eyes she could smell the burning ashes, it was the smell of homes being burnt down and childhoods being snatched away.

Other times she would dream of things far worse. She would dream of him. His emerald eyes, his midnight hair, his heart-stopping smile and his blood splattered on the unforgiving earth of the battlefield. She wondered, with his last breath did he think of her, or was he waiting for the sweet salvation of death to claim him? Had he given up then or was he still trying to find his way back to her?

Things she would never know.

She had never seen him in battle. Only stories she had heard of the Prince of Zaft. His skills and heroics were renowned in his homeland. Said to be best fighter in the land, he was the prize of the kingdom. Yet for all his skills and experience, he did not survive the war. Her eyes would water whenever she thought how unfair it was that death should claim him, yet she had survived this long.

"How's your shoulder my Queen?"

"How's your face?"

"As hideous as ever. Yours?"

"You tell me, is it hideous?"

"To call you hideous my Queen, would be treason."

He watched as a bemused smile curved up her face and felt his breath catch in his throat. He never once complimented her because that was not what he had asked him to do. It was not his right, that right had belonged to someone else.

Yet as he stood there watching the rare tug of her lips like watching a flower bloom in winter, he wanted to ask the heavens, would it be so wrong for him to think she was beautiful?

"You're hurt General." The concern laced in her voice was almost intoxicating to him. She reached a tender hand and traced against the air the long slash across his face.

"It's nothing." He dismissed, feeling embarrassed to be seen in such a state. An assassin in the night had mauled his face that his mother had once called handsome. And she had rushed all the way out here just to see him.

"It'll leave a scar."

He didn't care and snorted. "They say a man is more attractive with a scar."

This time she was the one to laugh. "I thought you were married to the military General."

"I am." He replied, but did not add, and you are my Commander.

She did not know when it had happened, but she had stopped thinking of Zaft as his kingdom, and the people as his people. They were hers now. Her cities, her citizens, her soldiers, under her protection. She would not fail them, because she was their Queen. And she loved them.

She stood before him, eyes piercing his, almost daring him, to do what? He didn't know, but before him was not a trembling girl, she was fearless and fierce. He knew now why her people followed her, even when she wasn't of the blood of their forefathers.

"So this is the woman that inherited Zaft's throne." An intrigued smile crept up his face. "And they told me you were just a helpless doll the prince fancied the look of."

He felt her tense up at the mention of the deceased prince and felt sympathy wash over him. She was too young to have been widowed by the war, too young to lead a nation that she did not grow up in, too young to be the Supreme Commander of an entire army.

Yet here she stood, proud like the people she led, heartbroken but not broken by the tragedies of war, aged by the harshness of her experiences, she had stood instead of falling in the face of adversity to rise to became the much respected Queen of Zaft and revered Commander of its army.

He could not kill her. He was too touched by her.

She seemed to sense that in him too as she asked, "What will you do with me?"

"It would be a shame for the world if you died. Perhaps you can bring peace to the lands after all, Princess."

"Queen." She corrected.

"Yes Queen, too, but you were always Princess of Orb first."

"I discarded that title a long time ago."

"But you can't discard that part of yourself. You will always be a princess of Orb, raised in its values, bathed in its morals. You are your father's daughter and your brother's sister. You crave peace not vengeance."

"Who are you?" She asked, faltered. Who was this man in the mask who claimed to know her so well?

"Hawke of the Endymion. I was sent here to kill you by your enemies, and here to rescue you by your brother."

"And which of them do you follow?"

"None."

He did not kill her. He did not rescue her either. Instead he had cut her binds and left her with his dagger.

This was a test she thought, by the gods, to see if she was worthy.

Worthy of what?

She did not know. She clasped the dagger tightly as she slipped out of the enemy base where she had been held prisoner, trying to make her way back home.

Somehow she had gotten past them, lost them in the chase in the wilderness and trudged on blistered feet until she reached a Zaft camp three days later. She collapsed as soon as she saw him, the general with the scorn on his face. Somehow his pale skin looked even paler, his silver hair whiter, but his embrace warmer.

Somehow he was always there to rescue her.

Her brother was the kindest man she knew.

Her prince was kind too, but he carried a shadow within him that festered since the passing of his mother. A shadow that longed for justice in the form of vengeance like his father did.

Her brother held no such darkness in his heart. He was pure and good and everything Orb needed in a prince, a ruler and future king.

They were twins, born from the same womb. Inseparable in their youths, now separated by their duties, distance and a war. She had not seen him since her wedding day, where she had bid farewell to her previous life, and all she had known up until that point.

She had not been back to Orb, not even for her father's funeral.

Her brother had sent her a letter informing her of their father's illness and untimely death. In that same letter, he pleaded with her to not return to Orb. Tension had never been higher with the war now into its seventh year. He had feared for Orb and its citizens. That the presence of the Queen of Zaft would be seen as Orb's alliance with the Federation's enemy. Her mere presence meant the start of a war for Orb, and her brother did not want to incite bloodshed onto the Land of Peace. It was a request born from duty to his nation, not the love for his sister.

She clenched her teeth tightly and scrunched up the letter in her hands. Tears fell down her face like rainfall. She wondered if her brother hated her for abandoning her duties to Orb. For choosing another over her own blood and leaving them behind. Did he blame her for the difficulties that Orb faced? Or despise her acquired title as Zaft's Queen, not Orb's Princess?

Or perhaps, knowing her brother, he was wondering the same thing as her, if she hated him for asking this of her. Denying her the right to see her father for the last time.

She abided by his wish and stayed in Zaft as they buried her father in Orb.

It was inevitable that the war would spill into Orb. Their borders were after all so close, staying neutral was but a dream her father died believing in. How she wished she could have kept his dream alive, but when push came to shove, Orb would have sided with Zaft, especially since its princess was now sitting on Zaft's throne.

Had she drawn Orb into the conflict?

No, it was inevitable, she told herself. No matter who she had married. Orb would have joined the war eventually.

She met her brother for the first time in six years when he arrived in Zaft to form an alliance.

He embraced her. Warm, familiar, protective arms encircled her entire being. She couldn't help but choke back a sob. How she had missed his presence. His gentleness and affection. How he made her feel young again, like a spirited child who had never lost sight of hope and dreams.

"I've missed you." She whispered into his ears, like they were children sharing secrets.

"I'm sorry." He had replied back, and when she met his eyes, she saw remorse and guilt behind them. Once more she felt the dreams slipping.

And as he rode off to fight in the war her father-in-law had started, she hoped it was not guilt that drove him to eventually fight. She had forgiven him for denying her visit to Orb and her last chance at seeing her father. Although she knew that was not the only guilt he harbored.

After all, their borders were so close. And her prince had fallen near Orb. Would he still have died that fateful day if her brother had lent his help? Would the war have lasted this long, if her prince was still alive?

She did not deny these thoughts haunted her, but she did not hate her brother. He was the first man she loved, until she realised there was a different kind of love when she met her prince.

In the end she had lost both men she loved.

"My dear brother, rest now. Leave the fighting to me."

She cradled his body in her arms as silent tears ran down her face. When would she ever stop crying, she thought in her woe. They had only just been reunited and now he was snatched away from her. The Federation had led an onslaught on Orb, and had her troops not reached Onogoro in time, Orb would have fallen into the enemy's hands.

But she was not in time to save him.

Her brother had fought well to defend his city, but his army was outnumbered. He was exceptionally skilled. She knew because she had trained alongside him, sparred with him, and lost to him countless times. Had it not been her brother at the head of Orb's army, Orb would have fallen before she could reach it. Her brother had held on, only long enough for her troops to seize victory.

Now he lay in her arms, taking his last breath.

"Rest." She whispered to him in the wind. "I will end this war, so that your child may grow up in a better future."

The kindest man she knew had married the kindest woman she knew, such a tragedy that he would never see his child be born. As his eyes closed for the last time, she felt another fire die within her.

"Princess. You are the head of Orb now."

She closed her eyes and mused how fate loved irony. Suddenly she was the Princess of Orb again, and she, who had never wanted the throne had found herself inheriting two thrones, both of which had been intended for a man she loved.

Her brother was never coronated. Wanting to wait until the conflicts had been resolved and the time to grieve for their father before he took his place. He was still prince at the time of his death, and his child not yet born meant the line of succession had fallen onto her.

She had not grown her hair out since she left for Zaft. Keeping it short had been a symbol of her devotion to her new life. She had long relinquished her title in Orb. How did fate bring her back here? With the weight of two nations now resting on her shoulders.

How could the gods expect her to stand, when the heaviness was pinning her to the ground?

"How is my sister?" She asked when she had finally let go of her brother's cold body and accepted her fate.

"She has gone into labour, Princess."

It was the hope of life that lifted her from the earth.

"I want the best care for her and my nephew or niece."

For now she would carry the burdens on her shoulders, and when the time was right, when she had given her last breath and fulfilled her promise of a better future, she would hand the throne back to the rightful heir, the child of her twin, to carry on the line of her father.

She was Queen of two kingdoms.

Supreme Commander of two armies.

She was neither as accomplished as her husband, nor as skilled as her brother, but she was a fighter none-the-less. The blood of a warrior flowed in her veins, the courage of a lion resided in her heart. She drew out her sword, that which had belonged to her twin, had once belonged to her father, and his father before him, and now it was hers, the next lionblood.

With her two generals by her side, her scorn-faced general from the Eternal Kingdom and her brown-eyed sword master of the Land of Peace, she marched into battle with a hundred thousand men following her lead.

As she pointed her sword into the eternal sky and yelled for her men to charge, a thought became her.

Today would not be the day I see your smiles.

They would remember her as the Goddess of Victory.

A/N: Thanks for reading, reviews are welcome and appreciated.