every piece of myself that I give to you

She was born in a village built on sand, there were no rocks, not a stone on the ground, she could have lived her life there happily without chipping beyond the wear that one experiences in general, but that village lay to the west in a country of hard-edged women whose tradition was to place the porcelain-skinned girls on the throne, because porcelain-skinned girls had everything to lose when faced with the rocky mountainside at the royal castle's foot. The porcelain-skinned girls spoke wonderfully little, in fear of chipping their lips and the porcelain-skinned girls were easily guided, easily led, as long as they were led in all other directions than to their death below.

So like many porcelain-skinned daughters before her, she was eventually spotted by the Council of Eleven and by the Armies, rumor travels and although beautiful, her porcelain skin was a deformity, that came to claim her on a chill autumn day when she was ten.