A Battle of Princesses

Fight or die. Those were the only two options. No one was sure how it all came to this, but here everyone was. Water surrounded the entire palace and filled the courtyard. The faded pink stone of the palace reflected in the water’s surface. The wooden reed roof casted shade over those in view and hid those who were not. The green smoke that coated the tips of the green team’s arrows wafted into the air as the red smoke of the red team’s arrows did the same across the courtyard, each smelling of ozone. This was no game. This was life or death; freedom or enslavement to the winner.

The teams, red and green respectively, were determined based on the color of the arrow tips, each arrow glowing and emitting smoke. The green team and red team mirrored one another in physical appearance, but contrasted with one another in dress. The green team wore traditional and modest clothing with hints of armor on the soldiers while their princesses were pushed aside and left to wait out the war. Meanwhile the red team were dressed in armored gowns, built for war, with modernized elements of the women’s traditional dresses.

I was on team red, positioned on the left-side tower roof with my arrow notched against my bow and aimed across the water. There were far too many greens left in sight. I let my arrow fly and it hit one of the green soldiers, the red smoke wafting up from the wound as the soldier crashed into the water below him. I notched my next arrow as I chose my target. I had repeated this practice for the past hour, shooting down every target I could. I had lost track of the days of this battle long ago.

I nearly missed sight of the green-smoked spear as it flew toward me. I attempted to dive out of the way, but the spear pierced my shoulder and tugged me forward. The chill of the water shocked my system as I struggled against the spear continuing to pull me toward the green-knighted source. I managed to yank the spear out of my shoulder just as I was pulled up to the soldier in silver with wide, nervouse eyes. By the look of him, he was just a boy not yet grown his first chin hair. I would bet I was his first catch with the spear based on the look of surprise in his eyes.

A throat is cleared behind him and he yanks me up by my uninjured shoulder and further inside. There is a group of soldiers behind him, all far more mature and seasoned than the boy who caught me, led by the only woman in actual armor I have ever seen from the green side. She looks me over and calls for someone out of sight, who drags a poor girl who looks exactly like me into the room. Her skin is copper and her long hair is black, pulled into three sections all the way down her back. I have the same hairstyle, but where she wears a light blue fitted top and harem pants with golden slippers, I wear blue and gold lightweight armor tailored to provide me with ease of movement and less heavy drag compared to what the green team is wearing.

“This is our Jasmine,” the soldier informs the woman as she looks between myself and the young girl who stares at me with wide eyes and fear.

There is nothing I can do to help her until or even if the battle is ended. I look over to the soldier who caught me and can see the conflict within his eyes. He never wanted to be here in the first place, I would wager. I turn back to the woman eyeing me up with a nod of satisfaction. She says something I do not quite understand, but then again I do not need to. She nods at the soldier holding the other Jasmine and he takes her away. The woman talks to her other soldiers, trying to use me as an example, as I meet the eyes of the one soldier who caught me. I silently plead with him to let me go and help me escape. By the look in his eyes he wants to but fears the repercussions of the action. If I can put enough distance between myself and the woman in front I should be able to escape and this boy will not interfere with my escape. He may even help, slightly.

I look up at the canopy that makes up what little of the roof is here. I can use it to my advantage. I kick the woman’s leg as she faces away and she stumbles toward her other soldiers. I take the chance and pull out of the boy’s weak grip on my shoulder, ignoring the pain in my injured shoulder as I reach above and haul myself into the rafters above. The woman, I notice below, is furious and attempting to make her way up toward me. I continue climbing higher across the rafters and make my way back toward the courtyard once more, where arrows of green and red smoke are flying through the air. I climb along the pink walls, using the stones to hold my footing where I can and pray that none of my teammates will hit me with their arrows by accident.

The woman from before is close, but kicking debris toward her each time she gets too close holds her off just enough for me to escape her grip. High enough up, I push off of the wall with my feet and plummet toward the water, which stings the wound in my shoulder at the same time it soothes. I swim as fast as I can toward my team’s side of the palace and am relieved as three of my teammates reach me and haul me up onto solid ground. I look over my shoulder back at the other side of the watery field to see the angry woman yelling, not hearing a word she says based on the ringing in my ears, and the boy who caught me staring after me with a mix of relief and worry in his wide eyes.

This war is not over yet, but it may be soon if more soldiers on the other side are like that boy. I will ensure he is safe and well cared for, alongside the other poor souls, once we win this war. I give the boy a smile and a small nod, which he returns with growing relief in his gaze. He turns and runs back behind the wall, disappearing from sight as someone begins to stitch up my shoulder. I inhale and exhale as I plan my next move, looking around the ruins of the palace across from us for my next target.