So I started a thing again. I just had an idea and didn't feel like waiting until my current story was finished till I could write this. Hey, well, look on the bright side! Now you have two shitty stories and twice the amount of updates to anticipate! Silver lining!

….I just made it worse, didn't I?

Disclaim!

Also, I decided to take down 'Angel to my Devil' to revise the idea. I liked the original concept and still do. I just didn't like the writing style and the direction it was heading (seriously, reading it over makes me cringe). I was looking at the third chapter I wrote for it, and I just didn't like where it was going. I want to revise the idea and someday maybe rewrite it. For now, though, I have no plans for it.

There was a time where humans and creatures of magic could cooperate.

There was a time when they weren't at war.

There was a time where peace existed.

It was the war that tore the races apart and it was the war that ripped friendships to irreparable shreds.

Once upon a time, all races and species lived in harmony; or as harmonious as they could dare while pertaining to their own territory. But when a prince of the most powerful human kingdom went missing, the humans became paranoid of the other magical races and lashed out, starting the war that would put peace to a standstill.

The magical creatures that were known for their powerful spirits and incredible God-given abilities, were hunted like livestock. They were bartered for money and those who obtained the rare and elusive creatures rose in nobility and rank. It soon became a sport and most of the magical races and species were wiped out by the sheer number of humans.

The Nymph race, in particular, were sought out for their numerous gifts; the healing properties of their tears, the blessing and fortune in their song, and the unearthly beauty that no other race could rival.

The nymph race suffered like no other. They were contained in cages and shackled to the floors. They were put on display like filthy animals. They were harvested for their tears and wings, which were cut off and collected as trophies due to the fact that they would grow back albeit with weeks of pain, through brutality and torture. They had their bodies sold and auctioned off like property to the most perverse and low of humans.

But a nymph was meant to live free like nature itself. Their weaknesses, being their need for freedom and their pride, became their inevitable downfall. The captured died off, falling into despair so great that only death could relieve them of their misery. The prideful remained alive only to suffer for the rest of their eternity; after all, nymphs were ageless creatures.

The one satisfaction the nymphs owned was that the humans would never be graced with their song. The song of a nymph was a gift unlike any other; many incorporating blessings or spells or even bouts of good fortune. The only catch was that a nymph could only use the abilities of their song if they were happy.

After the era of peace transcended into the age of war, no human had ever heard a nymph sing and no human was ever blessed with the powers a nymph song could bestow.

And it was expected that no human ever would.

Winry flew around swiftly, ducking behind the thick trunks of trees and flitting around the canopies of leaves silently in search of a way to slip past her guards. She was always a mischievous one; a spirit that was perhaps even more wild and free than her mothers' own, as she was constantly reminded. With some patience and a dash of luck, her guards finally decided she must have gone in another direction.

Winry could barely contain her satisfaction. Despite the enjoyed company of her sister, the nymph Queen, and her best friend, Al, she loved to indulge in the alone time in her mother's secret garden. No, perhaps garden wasn't the word; glade.

Winry enjoyed the sanctuary that it provided. It was a place that only she knew of, a secret that her mother had passed on to her. Now that her mother was dead and gone, it remained Winry's secret alone.

Her adoptive elder sister, the Nymph Queen Riza, took her in after the original Queen, Sarah, Winry's mother was murdered in the war. As for Al, he was the only male nymph in existence; found as a youngling, wandering the forest with no memory of his family, what had happened to him, or even his full name. Feeling sympathy for the lost soul, Winry at the tender age of eight, begged Riza to take him in. And she did. Al grew to be not only her best friend, but her kin; her brother.

Her delicate blue wings flitted with joyous fervor, making the sunlight shine through them like stained glass; no, much prettier. The colors of her wings seemed to dance with every flap, transcending from dark, deep shades of sapphire blue to light, delicate silver. They truly were one of a kind, and she knew that humans would pay fortunes just to have them.

Entering through the undergrowth, the young nymph princess crawled into the glade and settled clumsily on a bed of wild flowers. She was a youngling; a young nymph by the standards of the others in their clan; only seventeen years of age. It was the explanation as to why she was not as graceful as her senior nymphs.

Winry didn't care too much about this. She was at peace. Too at peace, in fact. She wound up unwittingly falling asleep, unaware of the devastation that would befall her home.

The subconscious of the young princess soundly rose to the surface of reality. She remained silent as her elfin ears picked up the sounds of rapid armored footsteps surrounding her in the glade. Fear clawed at her heart as she realized they must be humans; only humans could stomp around so noisily. She wasn't stupid. She knew they would try and capture her.

Winry decided to pretend she was still unconscious, and fly away when the right opportunity presented itself.

"Well, lookie here, men. We got ourselves some nymph royalty!"

The gruff, vulgar tone of the man speaking made her heart ice over in fear. How did they know she was royalty?

"How do ya know if she's royalty, boss?" It seems as if she'd be getting her answer.

"Well Travis, look at her hairstyle. No other nymph wears that hairstyle because it signifies royalty."

With a jolt, Winry realized that he was right. Her soft blonde hair was loose save for the bottom half which was braided and weaved with small water lilies and marigolds; the hairstyle indeed worn by all nymph royalty. How had these humans gained such knowledge?

"Err...captain Kimblee? Should we really capture a nymph Royal? It might start another war..."

Winry could hear the sneer in the vulgar man- Kimblee's voice as he scoffed.

"Travis, you young fool. We've already caught so many of them that their army is too weak to fight us, much less start another war." Kimblee clicked his tongue in annoyance. "But, they might lose their value if we have too many...this will be the last one."

Winry could feel the wind shift against her wings, signaling that he was going to make a grab at her. In a panic induced state, she jumped up before zooming off, not once looking back.

Winry writhed on the ground helplessly, not having enough energy to throw off the net that entangled her limbs.

She had flown for hours, and while she was a fast flyer, they had horses and not to mention, arrows. The first arrow had caught her in the leg and the second in her right thigh when she made the mistake of looking back. Albeit painful, she managed to push onward until a well aimed arrow shot through her wing and pinned her to a tree.

She wasted no time in ripping the weapon from her wing, tearing a hole through the delicate, silk-like material. She had nearly cried right then and there at the sight of it. Nevertheless, she took flight once again. It burned like hell and her flying had to be reduced to a slower pace to avoid further aggravating the injury. She knew it was hopeless when they shot an arrow through her shoulder that sent her careening to the forest floor. The tears that pooled in her eyes started streaming down her face at a rapid pace when they threw the net over her.

That's when Winry began to thrash and writhe in panic, entangling her further into the woven prison. Kimblee and his men laughed and sneered at her, enjoying the show as the fight in her slowly died down along with her energy.

What would happen to her now? How many of her people were left? How many were safe?

A different man than the two whose voices she had recognized spoke up. "So what now boss? Should we have a go with her?" The other men chuckled and sneered in agreement. Kimblee on the other hand, was not amused.

"No!" He snapped. "Her maidenhood is intact and that'll make her even rarer with the added rarity of her being royalty. She is by far the most valuable to us, and we aren't to touch any of the nymphs until their virginity had been sold and harvested for all it's worth."

Winry choked down a sob and wiped her eyes so that they couldn't acquire her tears. They didn't deserve those. She wanted to howl out her misery like a wolf would, and scream her sorrows to the heavens. She worried about her friends and family and prayed they would be okay.

'Queen Riza...Al...Please be okay...'

After her capture, Winry was shackled and tossed violently into a cage. She had fought them off with renewed vigor; biting and clawing at their lecherous hands, and thrashing around savagely in their grasp. Anything to get away.

Winry eavesdropped on their conversations, hoping to find out where they were being shipped to. Apparently they were being carted off to some Kingdom called Amestris. The men couldn't resist the temptation to grope her or hit her with every opportunity that knocked. She hated them for it. She hated their filthy hands. Those hands had no business being near her, much less touching her. She hissed at them like an alley cat whenever their hands wandered her body or touched her wings. Those were sensitive.

Every touch to her wings radiated throughout her entire body. Interactions between wings were sacred; intimate, even.

She refused to cry for them. Winry was too prideful to let them collect the damned things. And she sure as hell would never sing to them despite their taunting.

"Come on, doll face, sing for us!" One of them cooed.

'Ha! No nymph has sung for a human since the war started! As if I'd sing for you perverts!'

She decided not to speak; they didn't deserve to hear the sound of her voice. No, instead of replying to their taunts, she spat in his face.

"Why, you little bitch!" He wiped the spit off of his face with his left hand and slapped her hard with his right.

Against her will, her body choked out a pitiful whimper on impact. "Look who's scared, Envy!" Travis mocked. It was enough to make 'Envy' smile.

'Envy...so that's his name...'

"Wipe that smile off of your face." Winry hissed. "I'll bet you won't be smiling about when I kill you."

They all stopped smiling and met her murderous gaze. Then they all started laughing clapping Envy on the back. "Well well, Envy! Ya got a fighter flirting with ya. You really know how to pick 'em!"

Envy shrugged with and threw Winry a cocky smirk. "What can I say? I like the feisty ones."

The soldiers howled in laughter at this as Winry trembled with barely concealed rage. Red filled her vision, and before she was aware of what she was doing, she lunged for him through the bars. She managed to grasp the collar of his armor and drag him in front of the cage bars. She could've strangled him, or snapped his neck. She didn't. The youthful Princess instead glared at him in warning and released him with a harsh push. Envy dropped to the ground in an ungraceful heap, choking and sputtering from the encounter.

The soldiers had stopped laughing long ago. The camp around them was quiet, having watched this exchange.

In embarrassment, Winry turned away from them to curl into the corner of her cage, wanting nothing more than to melt into the shadows and away from prying eyes. She wanted to cry. She knew that she wouldn't. She didn't.

Winry didn't notice Envy peel himself off of the ground. Nor did she notice him leer at her menacingly. He clumsily unsheathed a dagger from his belt and stabbed it into her thigh. It lodged deep into her thigh, next to the arrow where the arrow wound was just starting to heal.

She howled out her pain to the heavens, clutching the bleeding leg. Envy smirked savagely.

"Oh? What's this? For a bitch, you have such a pretty voice. It sounds even lovelier when you're screaming…" He licked his lips maniacally.

Despite his disgusting words and the pain flowing from her newly acquired wound, she held her tears in. Envy didn't deserve her tears.

Unfortunately, seeing her struggle with the pain, he was only further goaded into causing her pain. "Stubborn aren't we? You sure are made of tougher stuff than I thought. Let's hear that beautiful voice of yours!"

Envy charged at her with blinding speed, socking her in the stomach. Winry haggardly coughed up blood, her wounds aggravated by the mistreatment. She coughed and whimpered, but she still refused to cry.

Envy went for her throat next, wrapping his rough fingers around it before squeezing it unpleasantly. She choked out more coughs, clawing desperately at his hands. He relinquished his hold slightly; enough for her to hyperventilate, filling her lungs with as much air as she could take before his grip tightened once again. The gruesome process continued for mere minutes, though she could've sworn they felt like hours.

She wanted to cry. If it would make him stop, she probably would have. Instead, he demanded something she would never comply to.

"Why don't you sing for me? I would stop if you did." He licked the shell of her ear tauntingly. "All of this harassment would go away."

Never. She would never do that. She'd be damned if she let this man of all people hear her song. He seemed to know her answer from her silence.

"Oh that's too bad…." He licked the shell of her ear again, making her shiver in disgust. "If it weren't for Kimblee's orders, I would have taken you long ago." She stared at the floor of her metal prison, eyes widened in horror. "Don't look like that. Especially when you would have enjoyed it." He took sadistic pleasure in watching her cringe. He laughed in her face before slapping her once more for good measure and sauntering away, the other soldiers snickering and following after him.

Winry cried that night. Silently.

She watched the guard posted near her cage nod off and waited until he finally slipped into a deep slumber. After being left isolated from another conscious soul, she had tried using her magic to pick the locks or melt the bars of the cage. It was of no use; the bars had probably been enchanted. It was a strange thought to mull over, considering that humans couldn't do magic. As to who could've enchanted them: she didn't know nor did she particularly care.

No, she spent the remainder of her alone time reflecting on the past few days. Like floodgates had opened, her tears poured out, one by one. Winry was certain that the amount of tears she shed could've cured an entire city. She didn't care.

The solitude was comforting for her. She draped her wings over her face, to hide her teary face. No one had to know. It was best that she only cried in solitude. The Nymph Princess knew that had Envy continued his assault, she would have indeed cried. She cursed her weakness.

The solemn Princess spent hours pondering over her family; if they were out there, if they were alright, if they were even still alive. Winry shed the most tears over these thoughts. She mourned.

Her body was wracked with inaudible sobs as she bottled in her rage. Those men had demanded she sing for them. The nerve! As if she would ever even dare to grace them with her nymph songs. Hell, she wouldn't be able to call herself a nymph if she had sung to those unworthy baboons!

Upon this revelation, she decided to stay mute. If they couldn't reap from her what little she actually had control over, they couldn't win; not entirely for that matter.

So Winry sat silently for the last hours of the solitude she would have while conscious, mulling this over. She could actually grasp victory for her own, even if it was only a sliver of victory.

Those nasty, nasty men would never hear her voice. Not if she could help it. Her voice was a gift and merely listening to even a word or syllable of it was a privilege. Winry gave a small satisfied smirk at her resolution.

She would be mute for the time being.

When they demanded her to sing, even if they tried to force the sound out, they would only be greeted with the sound of silence.

The thing about pain is it won't last forever, and it kills you right now, but with time it gets better.

- Eric Hanson

I don't think you understand how much it actually hurt me to write this. Winry is my bae and it hurt me to put her through this. WINRY I'M SORRY, PLEASE FORGIVE ME. *Ahem* I mean err...sorry?