Hair fell to the floor as Arcadia's identity was stripped away. Her armour, weapons, all the trappings of her position and title (bar her precious energy shield) were gone, taken by Beorn as evidence of her "death".
Three years ago, confronted with a similar situation she had run. Then she was young and scared. Her idealism had failed her. No.
She had failed. Her goals, the campaign itself, hadn't failed. She had failed it. She could, should have been a martyr for the cause but she'd turned tail and run. Fled to the stars, touring the worlds fighting in whatever conflicts she could find. Throwing herself into battle, trying to lose herself in the wars against barbarians, or insurrectionists, or rival houses or any number of other faceless foes.
She had succeeded. She had lost herself. She had become tired and returned home. Dame Arcadia the prodigal.
And in the course of the last few months she had found herself again.
She should not hide from her duty, it was a silly child who thought she could. She should have known at the tourney, hiding in a tent and waiting for others, did no good.
"Audentes Fortuna Adjuvat" - she'd seen that scrawled on a wall once on a Li Halan world. She didn't speak the language of the church but she knew enough to work out the literal meaning; "Fortune comes to the aid of those daring".
For three years she had run in fear. She had presented the visage of a veteran fighter but beneath it all she had been afraid, cowed, timid. She had let others lead. She had failed to be bold and fortune had abandoned her. No more.
The last of her golden locks landed in the dust of the hideout floor. She didn't need to look at herself. She knew what she was again. Arcadia had been restored. She was hard again, inviolate, determined. Some might call her a fanatic but she had a duty to her House, whether her mother recognised it or not. She would be the warrior, the avenging force, that Princess Carolandra needed her to be. The enemies of House Justinian, internal and external would be made to pay.
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