Author's Note: Hi! It's Kitty again, ya, the author who's got four (well, three, I put one of them on hold) stories going at the same time! And I'm trying to update every one of them every night. I was listening to the radio, trying to write a chapter, and "Viva la Vida" came on. It just hit me what a beautiful and sad song-fic it would make.

Um, confession time—I've never done a real song-fic before. So go easy on me, and please review—I'd love some feedback.

Disclaimer(s): I do not own the Storm Hawks. "Viva la Vida" lyrics are by Coldplay.


An old woman stood on the balcony of a crumbling palace on a long-abandoned Terra. Even in her great age, she was still a beauty. However, she lived here alone, a solitary hermit in this castle. They say she looked towards the sunset with tears in her eyes, though out of regret or for missed opportunities, it is impossible to say.

I used to rule the world.

Seas would rise when I gave the word.

She was Master Cyclonis, the once-proud ruler of a great empire. Now all she ruled was the empty palace in which she made her home.

Now in the morning I sleep alone,

Sweep the streets I used to own.

They had all left her, even him. Especially him.

I used to roll the dice,

Feel the fear in my enemies' eyes.

The Storm Hawks. They had feared her, but they had also respected her as the adversary that she was. There was no shame in losing to them, she told herself. Still, the tears rolled down her cheeks.

Listen as the crowd would sing,

"Now the old king is dead!

Long live the king!"

Her great force of Talons had been her pride and joy, the strength of her empire. She would never forget the day after her father died, when they cheered for her for the first time. Now they were gone, with all other remnants of her empire. The only thing left was her, and this crumbling castle.

One minute I held the key,

Next the walls were closed on me.

One minute. That was all it took for them to break into her throne room, to defeat her in battle, to haul her off for trial.

And I discovered that my castles stand

Upon pillars of salt, pillars of sand.

It had all collapsed, and she had been sentenced to live in this crumbling monument of the glory days of old for the rest of her life.

I hear Jerusalem's bells a'ringin'

Roman Catholic Choirs are singing

Be my mirror, my sword and shield,

My missionaries in a foreign field,

She wasn't long for this world, and she knew it. She was old, and she was dying, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it.

For some reason I can't explain,

Once you were gone, there was never,

He left her. He was the only one she trusted, and he left her. And so she cried, every sunset, imagining him flying somewhere, off in the distance. But he wouldn't be flying, because he, the Dark Ace, had died trying to protect her.

Never an honest word

She had ruled an empire built on lies, and the lies collapsed around her.

But that was when I ruled the world.

She was Master Cyclonis. At age fourteen, she had controlled two-thirds of the Atmos. Now she owned nothing but the rotting books in her once-magnificent library, and the few crystals she managed to scavenge for experiments.

It was the wicked and wild wind,

Blew down the doors, to let me in.

She had conquered so many Terras before she was defeated. Each one, it was always the same: people screaming, running, pleading, and so much destruction.

Shattered windows and the sound of drums,

People couldn't believe what I'd become.

The name "Master Cyclonis" was a curse. Few people believed she had only been a fourteen-year-old girl. No one disputed that she had been a monster, a nightmare of the worst kind.

Revolutionaries wait

For my head on a silver plate.

Many Atmosians wanted her killed, but the Storm Hawks wouldn't hear of it. They plead for a lighter sentence, and she still wasn't sure why.

I'm just a puppet on a lonely string,

Aw, who would ever want to be king?

She had never asked to be the Master, she was born into it. She was burdened from birth to fulfill the dream of her dynasty: world domination. Sometimes, she imagined what life would be like if she had been a normal girl; but usually, she refrained from that sort of thought, as it was too painful.

I hear Jerusalem's bell's a'ringin'

Roman Catholic choirs are singing

Be my mirror, my sword and shield,

My missionaries in a foreign field.

For some reason I can't explain,

I know St. Peter won't call my name,

She was dying. And she knew she wouldn't be going to heaven.

Never an honest word.

He was the only one who didn't lie to her. He was gone.

But that was when I ruled the world.