Word Count: 532

Her life was full of mirrors.

When she danced, the mirrors showed a thin, pale girl with bright eyes and hair of gold. It was a beautiful image, Paris thought. When she danced, she felt success. She felt freedom and happiness. She felt light and unbroken. She felt strong, indestructible. When she danced, the rest of the world melted away, and she could lose herself to the music, to the emotion. When she danced, she was showing the world who she truly was.

On Ganymede, the mirrors showed an equally pale young man with a small, sad smile. He wore red and white, with silvery blond hair and soft eyes the color of periwinkle. He moved when she moved and spoke when she spoke, for he was her and she was him, though centuries lay between their individual existences. She carried his memories. She feared what he feared and loved whom he loved. They were different people, but one and the same.

At home, when she stared into the mirror above the sink, she saw Laurelite staring back at her. She saw herself in Laurelite's eyes, the color reflected there in the glass. In Laurelite she saw what she could one day become, if she but took a different path. Laurelite was the black swan to her white, the darkness to her light. She appreciated Laurelite's existence at the same time that she despised her, because it showed her what darkness and evil could create. Laurelite gave her the impetus to fight, to push back. She embodied everything that Paris had come to hate.

Behind Laurelite she saw the faceless and shadowy figure of another General-Queen. Often when she saw them, Paris wondered if she had the strength to do what must be done, if ever given the chance. For so long she'd been of the opinion that bloodshed was not the answer. As a result, she questioned whether or not she had the ability to defeat either of them. Her encounters with Laurelite were limited and infrequent, her meeting with the other nonexistent, but they loomed large in her life nonetheless. They cast a shadow upon her, one that followed wherever she might go.

Once, when Paris was younger, she'd seen in the mirror a girl lost to confusion. She'd seen sadness and misery in her eyes. She'd seen ignorance, naivety, selfishness. She'd seen cynicism and hopelessness. The girl she used to be was weak and self-absorbed. Needy. She'd required validation. She'd been reckless and alone.

In some ways she was still the same girl. She had not changed so drastically as to be unrecognizable. But she was stronger now. She was brave. She was older and wiser, with a maturity garnered by years of experience. She'd found her place among the stars. She knew who she was and who she wanted to be. Each day she took a few more steps in that direction. With each breath, with each beat of her heart, she traveled a little further on the path that was her destiny, toward an uncertain end.

Her life was full of mirrors, and in each one she saw a little piece of herself.

They made her whole.