She dreamt of seeing him bloodied - tall, imposing noble boy, hunched over and dead in flowerbeds he'd cultivated with his own hands.<br/><br/>The house of Geslack had always been at war with the house of Bremmington, trivial things that snowballed throughout the centuries until their hatred grew from the size of a molehill to a mountain. Their family feud was reminiscent to that of the Capulets and the Montagues, except there were no star-crossed lovers to mend the rift of their ever-growing hatred. Politics, Economics, Trade, there was nothing their houses could ever agree on; the only thing that prevented Geslack and Bremmington from falling into a blood feud were the other noble houses that required they get along for the benefit of the kingdom.<i>For the king, </i>they would always say. It worked, things were serene of the surface. The turbulent tides of their anger and rage ran deep, far beneath what any spectator could observe. It was a secretive and deadly game. Occasionally a dead Geslack or Bremmington would surface (the fruits of their hate) and excuses would be uttered as more people found their end at the tips of blades.<br/><br/>Astor and Alvina Bremmington, they were the reason Lyra crept silently behind trees of Aspen. Twins of only 16, slayed on the night of their Nameday. She had been there when it had happened, had gotten front row seats to what had been their brutal demise. She could still see them, splayed out across the ballroom floor. Flecks of blood had mottled their clothing like specks of dark stars on a cloudy night. She remembered the gurgling and the shards of crystal found embedded in their throats. It had not been a pleasant way to die, and she was sure their murderers were none other than the filthy house of Geslack. One of their sons - Engel - always had a passion for rot and ruin.<br/><br/>She would avenge her cousins and end his life on the tip of her blade. Lyra watched silently as Engel tended to the plantlife around him. The beautiful garden created a stark contrast between the Geslack's dark nature and the beauty and refinement they always tried to portray to the rest of the world. Lyra had been waiting all day for him to let down his guard. She was dressed in the dark brown leathers hunters often wore and she'd adorned her outfit with a grassy cloak of green to further hide her presence. Her rapier (which bore the proud icy emblem of house Bremmington) was strapped to her waist alongside three canteens of water. She was biding her time, but when Engel finally opened his foul mouth to speak about her beloved house, her fingers found the icy grip of her sword.<br/><br/>Did he know she was hiding in the foliage as she plotted his demise? Rage seethed within creating an icy sort of rage that Lyra's house had been known for.<span style="font-size: 12px">ICE IN OUR VEINS</span>, that was the family mantra that pushed them to success even during the toughest of times. Theirs was a small family but well-known for their prowess in combat and magic. Most of the boys from the Bremmington house often went away to become admirals and high ranking officials for the royal navy.<br/><br/>That was a life Lyra wanted for herself but could not have; merely because she was born a woman instead. Her family entertained her fancies, allowed her to hunt with her father and learn the ways of metal and ice, but they hadn't authorized her to go after the Geslack and would have panicked at the thought of their daughter slinking around the Geslack garden. She would prove herself to them, bloody up Engel and avenge Astor and Alvina. Lithe fingers held on tightly to her sword's grip.<br/><br/>It was time to act. A flurry of brown and green emerged from her hidden stop amongst the trees. Lyra rushed toward Engel with her blade drawn, and when she was close enough, she thrust her arm forward in hopes of skewering him through his chest. Had he managed to evade the attack completely, she would reach for the canteen by her belt and toss it high into the air. As water came spilling out, Lyra would flick her wrist and the cold droplets would turn into dangerous shards of piercing ice. She made them rain down on Engel's garden.