The Wound That Never Heals

Scars. Scars. Scars are what make us or break us, scars are reminder of past faults, faults of ourselves or faults of others, but either way...you can never truly forget. Some people try and cover up their scars, they try to forget about them, but, some of us can't. I have a scar across my eye, it was given to me by Maeve, the Queen of our realm. The realm of the fae.
I smirked and gave a morbid laugh, life here was not the safe haven as some imagined it. Persecuted in other kingdoms for their heritage, and then forced into little better than slavery here, unless you are lucky, unless you are born here, and born as free as you will get in this contorted world. I want to laugh again, but why would I push it? Most are not allowed to breath without our Queen's permission.
We are a race greater than any other, our powers outstrip them, and our rule is fierceness to behold, the way we cut each others throats while holding daggers to their back. I barely bothered to engage in such politics, nor did I try to win the Queen's favor. Opening trouble is to walk beside death, and I had done that enough.
Now all this could change though, I have a chance, maybe it will be another form of slavery, but at least these bonds will be visible to only few. Loyalty by choice, how very interesting. All the same, and army was rising, for the court of ice and stone that Maeve held. Mab, her younger sister, bestowed by the same power of biting cold, and slightly less powerful dared raise a hand against her sister, and she was probably doomed down the same path.
They are both fools, but right now the world must move on, and it will, because that is how the world is, it one of the few things we share with humans. I snicker, humans, in the land beside ours, calling themselves conquerors for killing a few fae with so little power, fae who help plants grow, and try to coax rain into falling.
Scars, scars from them as well. I sigh, will the list of those who gave me scars go on?
One from Maeve who fears my power, and forced me to obey her will.
Five from the humans who thought they could enslave me.
Two from my friends who tried to kill me on the battlefield courtesy of Maeve.
One from my father who feared the humans who would burn him and me alike.
Three from the one who was suppose to love me.
The list goes on and on, and they are still there. Some of them got infected at first, but most simply scar. I sigh, now a chance, I want them gone, but I want them there. I want to remember, but I want a clean slate.
We rarely get what we want though.
I sigh, they are all so ugly. Some on my back, A few on my face. A couple on my arms. Maybe one or two on my chest.
Mab, she goes by the title Queen of Ice, a title still belonging to her living sister. Though she promises a land built on kinship, I sigh, how can we be family, for Maeve has created something different, friendship after loyalty. Whereas Mab wouldn't allow that friendship, saying it makes us weak, blood is thicker than water I believe the phrase is. Both are right, and both bear scars.
Where I fall is important to them, but not important to me.
Either way I will get more scars.