What does someone picture for a heroine? An intelligent, gorgeous girl who has a perfect life and perfect romance. A good person in general. I'm the heroine of this story. And I'm the complete opposite. I don't save lives, but destroy them. I fear everything and everyone, and only protect myself. I can't find true love. I am pretty, but not gorgeous. I live, but I don't have a perfect life. I'm certainly not good. I'm not good at all.

The palace was an old province mansion that had been extended over the centuries, with architecture like no other. Instead of the peaks in the roof, it had gold domed towers. The palace had an open porch at the front, held up with the most ostentatiously detailed pillars, painted in brilliant white. Inside there were no doors on the ground floor, only arches. The flagstone floor had been shipped in and was made with a stone of soft blue hues that had never before been seen in the district. The castle now had four sides around a central quadrangle and over five hundred rooms. It took a small army of servants to upkeep such a large abode, and indeed, most of the rooms were never used. I, the monarch, dwelled in only one corner on one floor and rarely stepped foot in the rest of my dwelling, let alone outside. But the palace was a status symbol, it set me above the peasants and that is where I needed to be; separate, apart, superior and untouchable.

A knock. A single rap on my door started this mess. A voice. A voice of heaven killed me. This is how it started. This is how it ended. I was on my balcony, sipping on green tea as I let my gaze scan the land. Huts were scattered in the valley below, mixed with cattle and fields where young children played with sticks and uncut grass. It's actually quite ironic when you think about. My desire and foolishness began on that balcony with that view, that same place was also where it was terminated. Pathetic. I was an idiot. It came without warning. The knock. It struck my door and rung throughout my room. The voice came next.

"Excuse me, does Queen Ivana reside in here?"

"She does. Who wishes to know?"

"I am Sir Hassan, Duke of Kairos. May I enter?"

I was flustered. Why was the duke of Kairos here? Kairos was Amoria's neighbor, so perhaps it was a business matter?

"Come in." The heavy, iron door was forced open and revealed the stranger known as Sir Hassan. The first thing I realized was that he was gorgeous. He had rusty, blonde hair that flopped on his face, covering his deep, brown eyes. Upon closer inspection, I saw that his eyes had flecks of gold. His hair was slightly curled, while stubble speckled his chin. His face was very elegant with gentle features. This man was charming and carried himself very well, although he did seem somewhat mysterious. Suspicion crawled into my mind as he bowed before me, but it quickly faded away when he smiled. His smile was his only imperfection. It was crooked, yet that smile drew me in and melted my heart. His inviting presence softened me, which I hated. Here was a man I just met and his looks already sent me over the edge.

"Sir Hassan, why is it you bother me now?"

"Forgive me, your majesty. My uncle has matters to deal with you, but he is sick in bed and has sent me to discuss them with you in his absence."

"Alright, then please take a seat." We sat at the table in the center of my room. The table looked like a porcelain plate on three pencil thin stilts. The ends of the stilts curved up and curled like little gnome shoes. On top stood a terracotta pot with geranium in full and vibrant red bloom. The chairs had a similar design, but on the seat a crimson cushion laid on top.

"So, what is it that we must discuss?"

Sir Hassan sighed, "Well, lately intruders from foreign lands have been threatening our kingdom, and stirring up trouble on our border along the West Sea. We have sent our troops to deal with them, but their numbers are increasing rapidly and are beginning to push us back. We do not wish to force the villagers to join the army unless absolutely necessary. So, Queen Ivana, I beg of you to lend us a hand." He bowed his head deeply, pleading with all his might.

"Hmm. Sad that you are unable to protect your own Kingdom without aid. However, I owe the Kingdom of Kairos for assisting us once. I shall support you with my army, my soldiers will be under your command."

"Thank you very much! We are in your debt!" Sir Hassan smiled. "If you do not mind, may I stay here for a month to train the troops?"

I growled, "Are you saying my soldiers are incapable of fighting?"

"Certainly not. It's just that your kingdom has not seen any action for awhile and I only want to strengthen your army to it's fullest potential. Besides, I need to teach your troops about the battle plan, which may take some time."

I leaned back in my chair and hummed in thought. "Very well. But you may only stay for one month. I shall get the servants to prepare a room for your stay."

"Thank you, milady."

Now I am running for my life. The unfamiliar halls of my castle blurred past as I hastily ran, trying to reach my room. Voices followed close behind, slowly catching up, while maids pressed themselves against the wall, watching with icy stares as I raced past. My long, dark hair was in disarray and flowed behind me, expensive makeup smeared on my pale face. It was terrifying. My green eyes were wide like a deer caught by a hunter. I was betrayed by the only person I thought I could trust. He betrayed me. Now I realized why he wanted my soldiers, it was to turn them against me so he could become king. I was so foolish to have ever thought that he had actually cared for me. He had only pretended, he never loved me. All he wants is my crown, not my heart.

The throne was carved of a fine oak, crested with several jewels and decorative metal forming an elegant coat of arms. I yawned, listening to the land steward relay about the rents he collected and the care for the farms. After a while I clicked my tongue to silence him and abruptly stood up.

"I am finished with you. Go finish this discussion with the butler, I am going to the library for a while. Do not disturb me." The land Steward gaped in astonishment, while my lady's maid scurried to bow below me.

"Milady, forgive me for speaking up, but it is your duty to..."

I interrupted her with a slap. She fell to the ground, and quivered before me without looking up. "I said, I am going to the library. Do not disturb me. The butler shall handle the rest."

My lady's maid gulped, "Y-yes, milady. I-I apologize for my behavior. I'll summon the butler."

"Good." I strode away, leaving the girl weeping on the floor.

At the library, I let my hand travel across the spines of the thick books, traveling to the end of the room. In the corner, a lone bookcase sat, separated from the more elegant ones. The bookcase was hewn from a tall cedar that was felled one spring. My mother and I dried the wood out in rough planks in the barn for eighteen months and made it after the August heat had baked it as dry as it was going to get. Many memories of my childhood remained in it, but don't get the wrong idea. I suppose you could say my past was tragic, but I don't care. My mother's death was pitiful and in all honesty, I'm glad she's gone. She was a brainless woman.

Winter had swept across the land and buried us in freezing snow. My mother got ill and remained in bed often, her fever rising steadily, never going down. I would sneak in her room even when advised not to, and brought her tea while I read a story from the bookshelf we made. I ignored her sickness and spent hours on end with her. She was a gentle woman, who pitied everyone and constantly gave to the poor. My father always spoke harshly to her when he saw her giving away their possessions, and would often slap her. But she never cried. She was unable to birth a boy, so my father gave up on her and left her to do whatever she pleased.

I admired my mother, even when ill she managed to care about others over her. She used to stroke my head when I laid on her chest, whispering, "A kind heart pays better than an evil one. Stay kind, Ivana." When she died, I was crushed. I refused to eat or sleep, and servants grew worried that I was sick. But I wasn't. Realization started to creep into my head then. My mother was wrong. Kind people die sooner and get nothing in return. They worry too much about others and don't see that they're fading away. People don't need kindness, but power. The powerful win, the powerful are strong, the powerful are elite. My mother was just stupid, I hated her for being stupid. Through that, I learned how hate stains the soul. It slowly spreads throughout you and destroys all your feelings, your emotions and your mind. It becomes essential to your life and your intent is twisted by it. Hate is powerful. That is why I hate.

Brutal agony. I crashed into a statue, knocking it down and making it shatter, the head rolling on the floor. The soldiers were nearing me, my time running out. It can't end like this! I scrambled onto my feet, my heels clicking on the stone as I rushed to the stairwell, panting heavily. I clutched my dress, wrinkling the soft fabric. It is truly amazing how every time I feel emotional pain, it doesn't hurt as a cut or bruise would. It's just this heavy feeling that makes my head spin, and it's as if my tongue feels too big for my mouth. I feel the need to wipe away non-existent tears that I want to form, but they won't. And it is truly amazing how every time I feel the pain, the only explanation I can sum up, is how I caused this pain on myself. All that does though, is bring on even more pain. It's my heartache, an insatiable fire that is burning all the oxygen in my body, leaving me listless and empty. The fire inside me is glowing and blazing, suffocating me, refusing to cool down. Instead it's only throbbing and torturing me, with no relief to be found.

It was a warm spring day. The weather was the kind that felt like a kiss from summer, but without the fiery heat of the beating sun and instead a subtle, pleasant pulse. The grass was a soft green that almost had a hint of blue, and in the sky, pristine white clouds collided.

I was wearing a vintage black, ruffled Victorian dress. Five silver buttons ran down from my collar, and more continued on the bottom of my sleeve. I was strolling through the rose garden, my hair up in a braided bun. I knelt down in front of a white rose bush, inspecting the thorny flowers. I remembered pricking myself before on a rose, and then crying on my mother's sleeve because. I was so weak. Narrowing my eyes, I pulled out a knife and started slicing off the white roses, their petals scattering in the breeze. I hated roses, I wanted them gone because they made me weak. The flowers started dropping at my feet, and I felt intense rage beginning to boil when a comforting hand touched my shoulder, making me flinch in alarm. I spun around to see Hassan grinning, and I felt my face redden.

"Ahem. What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to remain calm. My heart was still racing from the sudden encounter.

"I was looking for you."

"Oh? How come?"

Hassan hesitated, his eyes not leaving my face. "Come with me," he grabbed my arm and dragged me to a hillside, then suddenly collapsed and stretched out in the grass.

"What are you doing?"

"Come, lay down." Hassan smiled and patted the grass beside him.
Startled, I sat down while questions started pouring in. What does he want? Why did he bring me out here? What's going on? I stared at him, feeling my face blush when he caught my stare. I turned my head to look the other way quickly, my heart exposing my panic. Shut up! Stay quiet, I willed my heart to stop. Hassan sat up, looking at me with a serious face.
"W-what?" I stumbled and cursed under my breath.
"Ivana, I want you to know that, when you feel lonely, you always have someone thinking about you."
My breath caught in my throat, excitement swelling up but I tried to suppress it.

"I don't want to do anything rash, but, I think I like you." Unexpectedly, Hassan wrapped his arms around me and drew me close, his breath tickling my ear. I was frozen, in my embrace the world stopped still on its axis. Why? Hassan drew back and stared into my eyes.

"I love you, Ivana." He leaned in, coming closer to my face and yet I couldn't move. I felt the tender graze of his lips against mine, as soft as a moth's wing. I closed my eyes, pleasure pouring out, while my heart pounded against my ribcage deafeningly. It wasn't right, but yet, I didn't want it to end. All I could think about then was how I never wanted Hassan to leave me.

I finally reached my room and slammed the door shut behind me, sliding down with my hands covering my mouth. Sobs racked my body as tears started streaming down my face. Liar. You don't love me. You never did. I screamed into my palms, irritated with myself for not noticing sooner. I'm so gullible. My anguish had rung me out until I was shriveled up inside, no more tears coming. My heart felt raw as if a winter wind was blowing right through my skin, curling up inside my chest. It seemed unfair, but now regret washed over me like long, slow waves on a shallow shore. Each wave was icy cold and sent shivers down my spine, sorrow piercing my wounded heart. I felt regret for neglecting my duties. I felt regret for ever listening to Hassan. I felt regret for claiming the throne and its power. I felt regret for abandoning my mother and not cherishing the times we shared. I felt regret for how I spent my worthless life. I was a fool.

I crawled to my balcony, staring out at the land below me. I saw the garden beneath, the white roses glistening with dew from the moonlight.
Just then, a loud clang sounded, snapping me back to reality. The soldiers broke down my door, and started marching towards me. I screeched, "Get back! Get back all of you!" They ignored me, continuing to draw nearer and nearer. I clambered back, grasping the rail of the balcony, while I shakily stood up. I climbed on top of the rail, staring down all my once loyal troops. They had torches in their hands, illuminating their dark faces. Hands were on sword hilts, prepared to draw at command. In the front, standing erect, was none other than Hassan. His face was set grim and his brows furrowed. Betrayal. So much betrayal.

"Traitors," I snarled.

The men started shouting but Hassan silenced them. "Queen Ivana, for many acts of evil and ignoring your duties, not to mention almost making your kingdom crumble, I, Sir Hassan Duke of Kairos, shall dispose of you and assume your role!"

I choked on a sob, forcing it down so I could speak clearly. "Hassan, I just want to let you know that, in the end, it isn't dying that scares me, but pain. Not just the pain of being killed, but the pain of knowing that I could never right my wrongs, that I'll never have a second chance. The pain that I know even beyond here I'll continue suffering, and most of all, the pain of knowing that my lover betrayed me."

I smiled, my vision becoming blurred once again. I'm sorry, Mother. I leaned back with my arms open wide, allowing myself to fall to the garden below.

"Ivana!" For a second I thought I heard a frantic call, but it was too late. The wind picked up and caressed my body as I plummeted to the ground. My hair whipped around and lashed my face, while my dress billowed throughout the air. Then it was over. I landed on a rose bush, the vines enclosing around my body. The breath was snatched out of me, my lungs starting to strain for air. I was numb with pain, but I couldn't even move. Red tinged my vision and my sight grew dim, the white petals stained crimson from my blood. I could feel thorns puncture my skin, but I didn't care anymore. It was finally over. My desperation for air stopped, my eyes starting to glaze over. And, although I couldn't smell it, the sweet, pleasant aroma from the roses drifted into my mind, soothing me as I finished struggling.

I'm certainly not wicked. And maybe, just maybe, good in the end.