This is going to be a new story series I start where I take an interesting, more serious dive into a day in the arena from the perspective of a certain card. Day 1: The Princess.
Stacey was sitting in the back, getting ready for her deployment. She was only ever really known as 'The Princess' and so she barely had an identity in the Arena. That didn't matter anyway; the armor they gave her and all princesses was so fragile that no princess could survive even the lightest of attacks. As she looked at her bow, she recalled the years of extensive training she had undergone specifically for this moment, and wished that she at least had a helmet to protect her face.
As Stacey heard the trumpets blare outside, she knew that it was almost go-time and placed her bow on her lap. Her hands were drenched with sweat and were uncontrollably shaking in the fear of the oncoming battle. She was incredibly scared; she had no clue what to expect. She at least wished that if she were to die, it would be at the hands of the Arrows; it would at least be swift. She waited for a few seconds in silence amongst the other troops, then was called out to the battlefield.
Stacey was in the backside of the Arena. She had to act calm, so as to not frighten her team, but barely managed this feat. Her feet always felt like they would jerk out of her boots, or something else would go horribly wrong and embarrass her. Unsure of what was on the other side of the Arena Tower, she walked around in her usual pattern, and began to prepare for what was next.
Nothing, for now. She sighed with relief, and continued walking forward, feeling the pressure of all the hopes of her teammates and all of the stress from the screeches of the crowd. When she got to the bridge, she took a deep breath and prepared for death. Although it did not come for a while, so she played as normal. Grabbing a handful of arrows and lighting them against the ground, Stacey prepared her first shot. She fired, and closed her eyes for what was next.
A Wizard, in the back of the opposing Arena. Stacey knew she was going to die, but kept shooting as she was supposed to, fearing the consequences for abnormal behavior. She watched with horror as the Wizard neared her position, as she still grabbed her arrows. She was about to shoot when the Wizard rounded her position, and reared back to prepare his attack. Stacey closed her eyes in fear, and became accepting of what was to come as the Wizard launched his fireball.
Stacey was struck by the fireball, immediately roasting her frail, slim figure into thick, purple elixir. Even though she was immediately reformed, she still felt the pan of the fireball hitting her, and remembered every frightful second of it. She was grateful that at the very least, she wouldn't be played again for a while, at least until the next rotation.
She sat in silence as she heard the cries and yells from the Arena, completely unaware to the action that she could not see. She began twittling her thumbs to try to pass the time, but found herself too anxious to sit and wait. She looked around the room and took in every face that she saw, everyone looking just as scared as she. They did not know, though, the fear of frailty.
There was a knight, a Giant, a Mega Minion, an Ice Wizard, and others. None of them knew what it was like to have less than 200 hit points, but they still looked just as anxious as she was. Every one of them either had thick armor or a tough, durable body shape. Stacey, though, had the most thin armor there was, and the only thing to protect her head was a simple tiara-like accessory, and underneath her armor was a frail, light sheet of paper, blowing over in the wind.
Being called to the field again, Stacey was nearly immobilized with fear. She had to get up, and did so, but she was sure that the crowd could see the fear in her eyes as she walked forward. Their Arena Tower looked stable; no major damage had been done to it, at least nothing noticeable. Stacey continued walking forward, reassured only small bit by this fact. She saw that the opposing Arena Tower was very weak, and almost one of her volleys would destroy it.
She walked up to the bridge, and saw that nothing was impeding her attack. Nocking a handful of arrows once more, Stacey felt instantly prideful, for she could herself finally, and maybe gain her own identity for once. She let the arrows fly, and time seemed to play in slow motion as the arrows struck the tower, destroying it instantly. Stacey continued walking forward as her training taught her so, hoping that the enemy would leave her alone and just let her live without any more pain.
Just as she feared, a Miner surfaced beneath her and struck her twice, defeating her immediately. As she reformed, she felt all the pain of her last death, and was aggravated towards her lack of armor. Before she could be called out again, the clock ran out, sparing her from any more pain. Stacey heaved a sigh of relief, walking slowly from the Arena, hoping no other confrontations would come her way.
I hope you enjoyed! This was just the first idea I've acted upon, so feel free to leave feedback.