I'm so sorry, I'm unable to fix it as I've tried a couple times now. I can paste it here--

Long before time was counted, the Licornes stood as a pillar across several realms - held in the highest regard and worshiped for their kindness, immense beauty, and most of all, their magic.
The Licornes were creatures of the sun, born in the first whispers of Spring, where woodland critters both mundane and magical thrived.

Eventually, a truth most shocking was discovered… You see, Licornes did not always look as they do in current times - not always lithe waisted kemono creatures, but rather animalistic, and deer-like in appearance. Mother Celestia, The Sun Goddess, fell into slumber, but as she did so, her life was taken within her sacred temple. It was with her very last breath that she tied her soul to her most beloved - her Licornes. She created them, and upon her bloodied deathbed she blessed them with bodies appearing as human, or "anthropomorphic" to make them appear to mortals as different, as so to protect them from those selfish and greedy. But not everything can remain secret…

Despite their provided blessings and care towards their people, the number of their species began to dwindle, and that fact held true through many generations. It was almost as if they would be forgotten… The cause of their decline was one, simple conclusion to come to. Lust, and greed for magic. For the mortals did not have what the Licornes held highest - Magic.

Sadly, not all mortals praised their Licorne saviors, nor thought their magic should have been their birthright, belonging to only them. To hold the key to unending power—that was what they sought. As in their avaricious eyes, Licornes were to be kept as sources of magic and power, and only such. Mortals are selfish beings - as most are. For to survive, you must carry your own, and be relentlessly crushed by the strong.

But they would fall to a much worse fate, at the hands—nay, claws of a beast of unholy fire and choking ash. Those, of King Agnar.
The monarch of war, fire, and bloodshed. The baron king who bound all to bend the knee to his rule. A beast more dreadful than any… And nobody desired Licorne magic so greatly such as himself, as he was a greedy leader, willing to instigate war if it meant he could gain from it. Thus, he set his sights on exterminating the Licorne race for good, and to take from them what was rightfully their own, and use it for pure evil.

The Licornes could be harvested, their ancient blood bottled and kept for brewing elixir potions, their silk hair to bowstrings, and horns and hooves crafted to impenetrable war armor. And that sole fact, was all he needed to begin his reign of terror and suffering upon their race. And now, their immortality would be his blessing.

Hidden within an enchanted forest stood the rising kingdom Britannia - ruled by the Celesteharté family for generations upon generations.

Unfortunately, though, they almost lost to the ages as their sacred line was being crushed in the hands of the hunters and their ruler. Fearing the inevitable destruction to come, they closed their gates and buried themselves under unknowing bramble and forest outside of the scrutiny of the Mascgard Hunters - hunters sent out to destroy the Licorne race and cease their magic for King Agnar, the great king of the north.

King Eldric and Queen Helena had almost everything to name; untold opulence and bountiful nature, a kingdom teeming with loyal knights and handmaidens, and their ancient garden of Eden. Alas, they desired something most difficult to obtain: a daughter. An heir to carry their legacy, and one to take the throne.

Day and night, the king and queen prayed and begged for a child to care for, and one that would extend their kingdom and its standing. It had been drawing near almost a thousand years since a child was brought into their life, and their lives—their people's lives, seemed to be nearing their end. The Mascgard Hunters were close, seeking to take their species and use it as mulch. Even now, they were coming.

Eventually, as cold winter turned to crisp fall, a babe most gifted was born. A princess had been born, and one blessed with the light of Celestia within her being. Fae’maleth, a maiden fair, eyes that held all of the ancient magic of her mighty bloodline; it was she that defied all possibilities, and it would be she who must change her fate.

However, her eighteenth birthday spoke of fear, of blood and loss, of a fate worse like none had ever before thought. An unholy beast of dread called to them upon her birth… It was him, the man who sought to take all. None other than King Agnar himself. He warned of his desire to claim her, saying he would come himself to steal her from them. But foolishly, Queen Helena and King Eldric ignored his calls.

Fae’maleth's eighteenth birthday came and went, leaving her a young fawn no longer, but a demure, gentle woman.

On this day, she left her gilded boudoir in hand with her mother, and found herself drowning in compliments by handmaidens, courtiers and male knights who lusted for a night with the young, pure princess. She was promised a day of revelry, and she would get the coronation she always dreamed of. However, Agnar’s dark promise echoed within Helena’s mind on this supposedly joyous day. She memorized back to when she refused to heed the king’s warning, and the question of when, and why would haunt her in these moments. She could feel the King's presence like a lingering breath over the back of her neck, he was drawing near.

The fateful day arrived as the moon rose into the Licornes autumn song, and that night, the beast called once more. As hunters arrived on horseback with drawn bows and swords, screams filled the ears of the Licorne princess and her parents. The evil king had come to claim his prize, to take her for his own, and nothing could have swayed his decision, nor could anyone have predicted this event, except for the foolish Britannian king and queen.

War had come, as promised upon Fae’maleth’s birth. The princess’ fate was sealed, and the beastly king spared none his fury, save for her; he took her, and viciously slayed her people, torturing her with their screams and desperate cries. She was his prize, his only spoil, and the only thing he took from the castle of cinders. He had almost given up everything just to claim her for his prize, and so he did just that. And upon her capture, he imprisoned her within the walls of his castle of stone, promising to destroy her should she attempt to escape. And now, she was truly alone. Afraid. The walls around her had been devoid of any living thing, it was a cold atmosphere.

The moaning wind laid dormant against the weeping stone, and nothing brought solace to the Princess. Her soul surrendered to the nature of her situation soon enough, like a spider caught in a web, she was no longer free, she had been taken. She was the last whisper of magic left in Syndria, or so she thought.

It was years plenty that she laid listening to the song of Celestia. There was no will of magic that would break her from this prison, but there was a woman, one of the last. Fae’maleth only learned of her when she heard her whispers and haunting lullabies echoing through the ivy castle.

One of the last; Faline, a maiden cursed by a witch with infertility and cast out just as Fae'maleth. The king held them as his two Licorne wives, for their sacred womb to bare his children, like powerless animals in cages.
Though as time waned, the king’s people began to rebel. While the rebellion tore his kingdom to the ground, the two Licorne girls were discovered fettered in chains within the castle by a knight and his troop of vikings. They were freed for the first time in ages, and now they would start toward the welcome sea of life-long revelry.

Faline would claim her rightful place upon the throne, the throne of her new kingdom she worked so hard to build from the dirt up. And with her promise to Fae'maleth, she would become the lady of a new dawn. It was the beginning of Syndria’s return to prosperity, to peace, and together with fellow nobles, they united Syndria and outlying countries as a nation. Now, Faline would sit high and proud atop her golden throne as queen of Syndria.