Clegane, Noire

What is normalcy, but a frail concept of the mass population. Is it normal to be taken from your home? To find yourself thrust in the arms of strangers, to be imprisoned in white walls, to be with other children who are as frightened and frail as you are?

Her perception is far too tainted to believe in anything of the sort. Perhaps there was a time when she was, a mere child amongst many others, but then the battles came, she was left standing in the carnage. Now blood is all she can see, taste and feel.

They gave her a name, now that she had preceded others because only the strong were worthy of this, or so she was led to believe. She can no longer recall her previous name, not after they've beaten it out of her, so much that any attempt at remembering only causes her to flinch in pain. They taught her, trained her, subjected her to pain, tested her both physically and mentally, time and time again until they were sure she would not break. Until they were sure she was useful. Until they were sure that she was a soldier. Born and bred for their time of need.

For a while, they let her be and allowed her some time to herself to explore the world without their guidance. She takes to it with caution, acutely aware that she's being watched, judged for every choice she makes. But the war was imminent, and her time was cut short. Now she takes her duties from an unknown face, of no known voice or reason. Her purpose is in their hands, for without her designate she is nothing, like a blade with no wielder.

Deadly, but without focus.

You are a weapon, a tool, nothing more. They mashed that into her mind, until even she cannot deny it.

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