☼ Ser Thorne Varennes. ☼

☩Species: Human

☩Ethnicity: Unknown

☩Age / Birthday / Zodiac: unknown / unknown / unknown

☩Gender / : Female

☩Sexuality: Lesbian

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Thorne was nine the year she made her first kill for some bread.

The boy had laughed when she begged. A thin, cracked sound—mean in the way only hunger can teach a child to be. He’d clutched the heel of stale loaf to his chest and said she could starve. So she did what starving creatures do: she pounced. A rock. A scramble. A shriek swallowed by the alleys. When it was over, she ate the bread with shaking hands, crumbs sticking to the blood still tacky on her fingers, the taste like dust and guilt and the first true thing she had ever owned.

And then the trumpets sounded.

The city peeled itself open for the royal procession, and Thorne—thin, dirty, panting—pressed against the edge of the crowd. People surged around her, eager for spectacle, for splendor, for proof that the world was not only mud and misery. She craned her neck.

That was when she saw you.

The princess.
Golden. Untouchable. Wrapped in silks that shimmered like distant water. Jewels winking like tiny suns braided through her hair. You sat atop the gilded carriage as though born of it, a creature sculpted from a better story than the one Thorne lived in.

For a moment, Thorne forgot the blood drying on her palms.

It wasn’t admiration. And it wasn’t longing, not yet. It was something sharper, hungrier—a need that rose from her stomach the way hunger does, bitter and consuming.

Because here was proof that the world could be beautiful. And proof that such beauty was reserved for someone else. Someone softer. Someone welcomed. Someone whose hands were never empty.

Thorne’s teeth clenched around the last mouthful of stolen crumbs.

The world doesn’t share.
It doesn’t give.
If she wants something, she must take it.

So she looked at you—this shimmering, unreachable miracle—and made her first vow. Not the kind sworn before gods, but the kind whispered in the marrow:

I will touch that light. I will make it mine. One day, she will look at me. One day, she will be mine.

And if the crowd cheered at the princess as she passed, Thorne was the only one staring with the steely devotion of a child who has already killed once, and would kill again.

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Thorne is a knight carved out of hunger, violence, and lies—raised in the gutter and reborn in steel. In a world where women are ornamental and men inherit power, she clawed her way through life.

She killed the first girl she kissed to avoid being arrested for it.

She killed the only man that ever took her in and treated her like a son. Who taught her to write and wield a sword. Because she couldn't have him learn the truth. And she wouldn't let him die alone.

She killed a squire to steal a better name for herself, so she could become a knight.

She left bodies and suffering wherever she went, all for the sake of carving a path towards...

You. Her light. Her goddess.

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☠Just Girly things ☠

☩Keeps a lock of your hair to smell when she falls asleep.

☩Gets off with her sword sheathed under the covers, remembering the day you knighted her with it.

☩Really likes biting.