I choose Power

She races through the palace halls, the floors and the walls as familiar to her as her womb sisters' faces. Turning a corner, she bumps into the legs of a serving maid carrying a tray loaded to bursting with cinnamon flavoured bread rolls. The maid squeals and struggles to right the tray, expertly preventing any of the rolls from falling to the floor. "Sorry." Princess Dahlia mumbles, not slowing her pace. Tears cloud her vision and stream down her face unchecked, indeed blocking her view of where she is running to but it does not matter. She could navigate the entire palace blindfolded if she wanted to, thanks to having so much time on her hands. While her sisters practice speed control and Voice control, she is free to do as she pleases, being as talentless she was. Nobody cared what she did with her time, as long she just didn't get in their way. And so she became good at not getting in people's ways. She found ways to entertain herself and she explored the vast expanse of the palace grounds, found the hidden nooks and crannies, created the best spots for herself in the numerous alcoves. It definitely helped that she was so small, the smallest among all of her many siblings. She is even smaller than the twins, Niamh and Ciara! And they are the last borns. All of her sisters and brothers are giants. The people call them Amazons and the name would have been apt, if she wasn't the farthest thing from an sss imaginable. She increases her speed, expertly darting around the legs of the palace workers and ignoring their disapproving glances until she reaches the quiet expanse of halls leading to the royal bedchambers. She races straight for her father's suites, her midnight black hair streaming behind her, yet another oddity in the royal family traits. The guards in front of the door are used to the sight of her and without introduction, the great door swings open and she darts right in. "Dahlia." King Consort Silas Tallhorn looks up from the papers he was working on and beams at her. His smile turns into a frown when he sees the tears still cascading down her face. "Papa!" She runs to him and he quickly discards the papers in time to grab her outstretched arms and swing her onto his lap. "There, there, little flower, everything is alright now. Papa is going to make everything right." He says, cooing at her and brushing her messy hair from her eyes. Forgetting her tears for a moment, she slaps his hand away. "Stop that, I am no baby, not anymore. I am more than seven!" He holds up his hands in surrender. "Forgive me, O great mighty mature one. It is rather easy to mistake you for someone else when you run in here crying for Papa. Now, who's my silly little mature woman?" He says the last sentence in a goofy voice that he uses only for her and tickles her stomach. Giggling, she wriggles away from his hand. "Halt, halt! I surrender!" She says between breaths. He tickles her some more before letting off. "What upset my little flower so much?" He asks gently. Remembering her woes, she throws her arms around her father's neck and sniffles on tears that are no longer there. "It is Falco, Papa. He is so mean to me. He was mocking me, he said I am not good at anything!" "Why would Falco say that? You are the most talented--" "No I'm not, Papa. I am eight years old now, eight. Peony, Rose and Lily all got their powers on our birthday last year. I swear to you I saw Peony Voice Master Sadam for a second yesterday. Lily practices Speeding with Celaena, Diana and Zaya everyday and Rose has just moved to the second level of weights. I have no talents, I am useless. Even Niamh and Ciara will discover their talents next year and I will still be right here, unwanted and unskilled." She wails. "Shh, shh. That's enough, little flower. Falco is wrong to mock you for not developing supernatural abilities because, my dear, who needs them?" Papa says. "What do you mean? Every female in the royal family has one ability or the other. I am not even big, Papa!" She wails at the end of her statement. "You do not need to be big or strong, my girl. Look at me, do I have any supernatural abilities?" He asks. "No you don't. But that is because you are a man and men don't have powers." She says and he sighs. He scoops her up and drops her to the floor, wiping off the last remnants of tears from her face. He stands and walks towards an antechamber which he had decorated with a small Dahlia-sized bed for the countless times she always has to crash in his chambers. She runs around him and climbs on the bed, anticipating the stories he always told her before she slept. He drags a blanket from an overhead wardrobe and drops it on her, tucking it under her chin. Dragging a stool from where it had been set on the wall, he says. "Today's story is special. I am going to tell you about your ancestors." "Real-life ancestors? You will tell me about the Valkyries of Old?" She asks excitedly. "Oh yes, the Valkyries of Old." He sits on the stool beside her bed and relaxes back, folding his hands on his lap. He is a talented story teller, his rich deep voice spins tales and creates scenes you can almost see and hear and describes things you can almost smell and taste. As always, he strokes his beard and affects an air of infinite wisdom before his voice fills the room. "A very long time ago, magic and wonders filled the world and the Valkyries ruled any and all that walked the Earth. Descended from gods, the Valkyries were the fiercest, the strongest, the fastest. They were rumoured even to be faster than the wind! And it was said that they could rain down heaven's fire upon any that dared to displease them." "Heaven's fire?" She repeats in awe. "I have never heard of that." "Oh yes, it was why they were so fearsome. Any kingdom that went against them risked being burnt alive by lightning. But the Valkyries were not oppressors. They were a benevolent lot and the world thrived under their rule. They brought balance to the world." He pauses dramatically. "But they had a sister, Sabina, the most powerful of them all, and she did not believe in mercy or order or peace. She loved chaos, she thrived on it. And she wanted the world to burn." "Why would she want that?" Dahlia asks. "Some say her lover was murdered, some say she was spurned for her darker ways. Whichever it was, Sabina wanted blood and not flowers. She tried to get her sisters to become like her, tried to convince them that her way was best, that the humans needed to feel their superiority with the kiss of their iron claws." "They had claws?!" She asks, incredulous. "Tiny, little claws, as lethal as a Tramador's. And pointed little ears, why, just like yours." He leans forward and taps the tip of her sensitive pointed ears and she shivers. "Then why don't my sisters have them?" She asks. "Because you are special." He says with a grin and she scoffs. He continues his story. "Sabina killed and fed on the blood of scores of humans and invited her sisters to strengthen themselves on the lifesblood of the humans but revolted, they joined forces and sent her into exile, for she was too powerful to kill. Exiled, alone and rejected, Sabina grew stronger and plotted ways to get her revenge on her sisters for forsaking her." She wrinkles her nose. "Papa, I hope I am not the Sabina to my sisters." He leans in and brushes a wisp of hair from her forehead, smiling down at his daughter's round cheeks. "You choose who you become, little flower, but you are the furthest thing I have ever seen from a Sabina." She beams at him. "And we will never get to finish the story if you keep on interrupting the story teller." He flicks her nose and she giggles. "No more interruptions, promise." She says. He leans back into his seat again. "You are not the Sabina in the story but you do remind me of someone else. There was another sister, Maxine, not as fast, nor as strong as her sisters but every bit as fierce, more so even. She knew her strength and her weaknesses and what she lacked in supernatural abilities, she made up for with her wits. She trained harder and longer than her sisters, she learnt every defense and offense tactics, war tactics and strategies, tricks and talents to turn her sister's powers against them, she prepared." "Ages passed and there was no news from Sabina and the sisters relaxed, hoping the worst was behind them. All but Maxine who had been the closest to Sabina and knew that she would be back. And then Sabina was back and a great battle ensued. The Valkyries did everything in their power to try to take down Sabina but she was just too strong. One by one, the Valkyries fell to Sabina and her dark powers. Until Maxine. They say the battle lasted five days and five nights  but at the end of it, Sabina was defeated and Maxine was standing. The remaining of the Valkyries buried their sisters and celebrated Maxine, but ever since that day, magic has waned, receded slowly from the world and its fabric." "Why? Why is magic fading?" She asks. "No one knows, my little flower." He says. She struggles for a moment to find the hidden message in the story, like all of her father's stories always have. "I am the end. Papa, I am the last, aren't I? A Valkyrie bloodline with zero powers." "You foolish hardheaded girl." He lays a hand on her smooth cheek. "You are our Maxine, little flower. It does not matter how much supernatural talent you have, you have a choice. You can stay here and cry and bemoan the little mis-luck that means you do not have the amazing powers your sisters have. Or you can get out there and become your own power." He looks into his daughter's eye and impresses the weight of the moment upon her. "You have to choose." Ever smart, she furrows her eyebrows as she thinks hard for a moment and then she stands, dropping the blanket on the bed. Her father smiles at her, pride shining in his eyes, he can already see the woman his precious little flower is going to become. All she had needed was a gentle shove. She comes around the bed and throws her arms around his neck for a brief moment. "I have made my choice, Papa."