She pressed her body against the cold stone wall, blending into the shadow of the castle. The guards wouldn’t recognize her; or maybe they would. She surely didn’t look like she belonged near this kingdom, though most likely, she was the only one that did. With a deep inhale and a nudge from her furred companion, Synnove dove past the group of thistle bushes, hiding behind the large plants. Her bulky wolf followed behind, broad shoulders lowered. Synnove rose her bow and arrow, aiming for a guard’s leg. The woman didn’t aim to kill, she aimed to inflict pain. Gently, her fingers were lifted from the string, arrow flying straight into the guard’s calf. His cry of pain echoed, new voices full of concern calling out in Norwegian. Synnove sat back to her knees, chest heaving with nervous breathes. With a shiver, she threw her grey hood over her head, pulling the sides around her. The loud thundering of boots filled her ears.

“Go.” She turned to her beast, nodding her head to left.
The wolf bound away, drawing no attention to itself or her master. Meanwhile, Synnove dropped her bow, opting for her dagger, an intricate design engraved on the golden handle. Cautiously, the Queen of the Wild stood, fingers tightly gripped around the dagger. She stood to reclaim the throne she was born into.
Swiftly, Synnove took all of the shortcuts and tunnels she’d remembered from her childhood. As planned, she arrived at the throne room, great red and golden walls exploding open with her force. She glared at the pathetic imposter on the throne; the throne that he should have never sat on.
“You burnt my Kingdom to the ground and rebuilt a throne you could sit on.” Synnove growled, her wolf suddenly charging up from behind her, leaping atop the only guard who stood in the room. The King quivered, turning pale as the canine finished off its prey.
“You’re a coward.”
“I am a King.” His voice quivered.
Synnove leaned over him, staring him down with fury in her hazel eyes. Her dagger pressed against his neck as a following threat, her bloodied-mouth wolf beside her.
“Kneel.” Synnove glared down.
The King spat at her, though she was unmoved still. Instead, she grabbed the back of his head by the hair, slamming his head down onto her knee. Synnove threw him to the side, his body moving in and out of consciousness.
“I-I will n-never kneel to…you.” He hissed weakly, one eye already swollen shut, blood stuck to the side of his face.
Synnove smiled proudly, leaning over so her eyes met the “You already are.”
The dying King looked down, noticing he had fallen to his knees with Synnove’s strike. She stood proudly, her wolf baring its thick fangs. The King recoiled, arm held above his head as a shield. Synnove held her hand out, the wolf obediently stopping. Instead, Synnove drew the King’s sword from his belt, inspecting the blade. His weak pleads for his life was interrupted with one swift swipe of the sword, the silver cutting through his flesh, fluidly slicing through his neck. Synnove dropped the sword to the ground, killing the fallen King in the worst way a King could die- by his own sword. The sword dropped from her hand, eyes turning away from the lifeless corpse.
She took one last look at the magnificent throne with a sigh, beautiful red and yellow rugs draped throughout the room, flags of conquered countries hanging on the walls. The only thing that tainted this perfect image was the decapitated body that sat bloodied in the corner. Boots grew in sound, prompting Synnove to leave, her yearning of the throne no longer sitting heavy in her heart. She accomplished what she had wanted, and could now live peacefully in the woods on her destined throne of the wild.