The Ithatyne Empire...
Something of a marvel and something of a disgrace, all at the same time.
It all started with King Yonith and his precious wife Hinu. Yonith started as a mere lord in the halls of the Ithatyne courts when it was a proud and honourable kingdom in the plains of gracious land of Tyines. This lord was had unmatched ambition, and eyed the throne of the old king as a hawk eyed dinner. The old king, Fropile, was murdered in his sleep, and Lord Yonith proclaimed himself King, and had his supporters eliminate what royal family hadn't fled from the original Ithatyne borders.
Those were peaceful times, when the kingdoms had a mutual and beneficial relationship mounted in trust and respect that had been built within a few centuries. This trust and respect would be ruined within the first decade of Yonith's rule, when these kingdoms that once were settled within various spots of the kingdom were now either in blackened ruins, or became engulfed by the gluttonous borders of King Yonith and his desperate need for power, glory, and wealth.
Yonith had to keep his absolute power over all of Tyine with a fist of iron, one that showed no mercy to those who threated with rebellion and broke the set rules of the kingdom, now so big that calling it a kingdom would be an understatement: this was an empire!
At the age of sixty-five, and thirty years after he stole the soul of land for his own need, he had died in his sleep. No one was sure how the man had died, whether natural causes or poison.
His wife, Hinu, with all the spoils that her husband gave her, was equally cruel, being the best supporter of Yonith, and being a sadist that watched with glee the torture of the people that did not bow to Yonith or the queen, herself. It would seem like a dream come true for the woman to take her husbands kingdom for her own, but the woman, whom was also ravaged by the numerous attempts by Yonith to make her bare a son, would a week later be found dangling over the main castle gate, hanging by the neck, very dead. Most people would see it as a suicided, many celebrated their deaths, but it did not mean that the empire would dissolve just yet.
The only child of Yonith and Hinu was eighteen year old Mytorane, whom was almost shattered by the deaths of her parents, and now, to prevent Anarchy to settle into the land, would become the leader of the Ithatyne empire, a banner that gave her everything...
Everything she didn't really want. This she decided standing on the balcony in the master bedroom, the room that her parents once shared now was her room. She was overlooking the courtyard from where she stood on the onyx castle, with some activity from the odd gardener that tidy the place up. Her eyes glared in their blue sapphires, the only feature that reflected her true nature, one that would separate her from her parents, and how they couldn't understand why she cried when someone was tortured to death: an enemy of the empire. She never became
accustomed to those type of sights, making her parents think that she could never rule the kingdom, and her father trying extra hard to get Hinu pregnant again.
The bedroom itself was a pleasant stone room with the trappings of a very wealthy person: rugs with gold trimmings, blankets made of the finest silks, beading along the four posts of the bed, and a few paintings and trophies hung on the wall, some of which Mytorare had put away or out of sight, for they were too much of a reminder of her parents, all dead.
It had been three years since her parents had died. She did her best to rule as they would have ruled. It was rough on her heart to do so, which her parents had failed to harden enough so it wouldn't break everytime she had to make a order that would cause horrible pain and grief to another.
She stared out and onto the scene of beautiful flowers in the Ithatyne castle. The finest flowers in a garden that she would hope was the finest. During the reign of her father, Yonith, the garden had become neglected and full of weeds, a part of the castle he stole that he showed no care for, and Hinu, the queen, was more amazed when someone was having their fingernails ripped out than to stare at flowers. One of the first things Mytorare had done when she ascended to the throne was double the gardening staff, to get a garden going and maintained. She loved to see beautiful things, and the drabness of parts of the castle made her more depressed then she already was.
A small breeze blew across her silk black dress, an outfit that hugged her bosom build: with a plunging neckline to showcase her nicely shaped bustline, a waistline that was just tight enough around to exaggerate her waist, and was loose around the hips to make her waist and hips look even more perfect. Her long black hair, veiled with fine darkened mesh, was loose and down past the shoulders, and it waved past her body. The black was such a contrast to her abnormally pale skin, almost as if she had no pigmentation, but her eyes were proof that she wasn't albino.
Black was a colour that her parents wore, and it was pressed onto her. Her mother, whom was considered to be a beautiful woman on the outside, was also so pale. Mytorare's nature could only refuse so much of her parents' trash of souls. Mytorare had their power under her thumb, and she hated every moment of it. It meant that they were dead, and she would have to do some of the most horrid things as the title of Queen would make her do, to keep an empire together and from the jaws of Anarchy, a fate worst than the totalitarian rule established by Lord Yonith of the former Ithatyne.
Mytorare would be forced to live up to that, even if it means her own death, from the inside out.
Link to the OOC