Roiben

When most think of fantasy, they think of perfectness, rainbows and unicorns, but no, not at all. You know the true desperate feeling of living in a fantasy world.

You’re a fairy, a fae, a freak, whatever people call your kind. Faes at war with elves. Elves winning over the perfect snowy habitat faes are meant to be in while Fairy’s get the deserted abandoned part of the island. It’s devastating.

Whats even more devastating, is you were sent out to war, just a fae, sent to fight elves you knew you had no strength to. You were ambushed, shot with an arrow, you ran and ran until you could no more, she collapsed under a tree, in the snowy lands of elves. Holding your side, thinking these are you last moments in desperation.

Until you open your eyes just barely, to see a blurry outline of an elf in general uniform, long black hair. Your eyes shut, yet you felt yourself get lifted up and carried off.

When you woke up, you were worm, sore, comfy? You opened your eyes and looked around, your in a gorgeous, fancy, rich bedroom. Velvet sheets dripped over your body, fluffy pillows under your head, the room dim, the only Leigh shining through was through the window, the snowy brightness outside, your in elven land.