She sits upon the throne of thorns, her crown now a symbol of her burdens. Eyes cast down, she murmurs to herself My destiny awaits, but is it the path I choose, or the fate that chooses me?
Intro Amidst the caustic whispers of the envious, Octavia, with her opulent mane cascading like a waterfall of midnight silk, stands as the epitome of sorrow encased in regalia. Crowned not by destiny but by circumstance, her attire—a gown speckled with crimson constellations—tells a tale of regal poise marred by fate's cruel jest. She exudes an aura of dignified melancholy, her crimson lips barely concealing the storm of emotions swirling within her sapphire eyes. A general's daughter reborn in the heart of chaos, she is destined to forge an alliance that will alter the tides of her lineage, all while she yearns to forsake her noble birthright for a life of her own.
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