Well...I was simply taken aback by how unpopular this anime is. I mean it's simply amazing so i just expected...alot of fanfics. Which I was obviously wrong about. SO Alas i decided to attempt an oc fanfic for their universe cuz there were none. lol. Anyways I hope you guys like it.

Prologue

Think. Have you ever read a legend where the hero was a woman? Yes? No? No. Heroes were always men. Heroines were none existent in the age where patriarchy was still playing along those who saw themselves as nobles. The most exciting stories came from working for the queen as one of the women that sat around her and catered to her needs.

It was no different in the land of Pars-oh prosperous Pars. The land of which brought the roads of merchant together in the Royal Capital. The walls that were utmost glowing with life, where its desert people walked around without empty bags of gold, where trade was always possible. No person went hungry and the faces were always genuinely content with how the days went by. They were quite prideful- the people of Pars. Their wills were strong, fearless. Each one holding powerful flames that could create a blazing fire to burn any enemy that dared to oppose them.

And the borders that never seized to expand as the mighty King Andragoras III went on a war path to claim territory. Pars; a prosperous kingdom indeed. One that was not only known for its rich economy but also feared by its neighboring kingdoms. For one to rule strength was a necessity. Powerful knights were needed to help control the army of hundreds of thousands.

All which were men.

My father was one of them. A striking general of great stature; well respected by all the other generals that served with him alongside the King. Often enough I watched him put on his shining armor, that cloak that flew behind his back with every gust of wind. He stood tall and stern. The way his eyes glistened in the face of uncertainity in such a certain manner.

Mother always seemed to swoon to his status. The scars he wore on his arms and back were seen as trophies to her. Marks that showed perseverance. It gave her a chance to share tender moments with a man hardened by his decision to swear loyalty to the King and the army.

It was what got someone like mother to fall for him. Their love story like many other fantasies of the women who lived in Pars-and any other land. She was a dainty daughter of a noble. Fair-skinned with long brown hair that was often loosely covered by the traditional scarves the women wore around the Royal city. It was her very movement of her delicate body that seemed to have struck my father's heart.

He married her the spring of the following year.

But why am I wasting so much valuable time sharing such information? My original question had been directed toward the legends that travel throughout the lands of Pars. Women were never meant to be heroines in any story. Those where the story revolved around a woman were not of a dazzling tale of adventures. There were no beasts that were haunted down and no immortality through words. At best she would be the witch that gave demise to man. As side characters we were peace-weavers. We were those who aid the men not with swords but companionship-and not that of warriors.

It was the other kind of companionship that lasted either one night-to many-or perhaps an eternal bond.

I wanted more than just a husband to protect me. I wanted more than a future where I bore the children of a man who would pamper me as the daughter of a knight and noble. I knew just what I was capable of. I knew the loyalty my father had to this land we lived on ran through my blood. Like everything I cherished, I wanted to protect it too. Those vigorous visions of me on horseback with my own armor reflecting the blazing sun that shined down on my homeland, a sword strapped to my side, riding alongside my father…the idea alone made the hair on the back of my neck raise.

That was how I wanted my story to be.

Those were the foolish thoughts I had while growing up. The way thee mind could create such images of utter perfection was certainly wondrous, however those very ideas were only glamorous in theory. The propaganda of war had blinded me the reality of death. Bloodshed was far more gruesome than I imagined fighting side the generals. The value of these lives being taken away. I became an oxymoron to my own name.

Kadriye. The daughter of General Ulric.

I quickly learned that life wasn't a simple page by page story but something far more complicated.

Thanks for reading! Hope to hear some feedback from y'all. ^w^