A war with the orcs

I am Lyra. Princess of the kingdom of Alarion.

For all of my youth I lived in luxury and safety. Our kingdom was prosperous, and the nobility enjoyed the benefits of that, with fancy parties, hunts, beautiful dresses and shining golden Armour.

My family, endorsed by the Church of the Moon Goddess, believed themselves superior to all other people. And especially superior to the savage races of the northlands, who were subjugated by our ancestors, and now serve as cheap labour, cannon-fodder and slaves.

My parents tried to instill in my purpose, as princess of the greatest family in history. But I always felt out of place in the royal courts. I thought it was something wrong with me, something that no amount of prayer seemed to fix.

It was in my 20th year that everything changed. There was a small rebellion in the northlands. I had lived through a few of these, and each time they were put down swiftly. But this one was not. A few weeks later we were on the cusp of a civil war. And eight months later, the orc army had surrounded the capital, destroyed our walls, and was marching through the city streets towards the palace.

I'm going to die. That was the only thought on my mind. The priest, hiding with us, was leading a prayer, and promising that through faith we would saved. I didn't believe it. This was the end. It took all my willpower not to cry.