Frozen Blooded

1

I traced outlines with my fingers while humming the melody of my favorite tune. As I was doing this peculiar task I also shut my eyes, took in a breath, and then exhaled.

When I finally peaked an eye open from my daily exercises, I was immediately met with my mother's frowning face.

"Your humming was off key and your lines were too sharp" She said, harshly critiquing my work.

I slumped back into my seat from defeat, for it was the 27th time this hour I performed the same imaginary spell. "Dinner has been ready for almost half an hour, can we continue school later?" I begged as my stomach pleaded for food.

Mother rolled her eyes, but her silence meant I was free to go ahead, except she wasn't pleased about it. I scurried through the wide halls of our sizable house and entered the dining room. It was a large space filled with creepy paintings of old men and a carved mahogany table in the middle.

Smells of different cultural dishes filled my lungs, making me gravitate toward the table.
"Joining us late, Merope" a deep voice boomed through the room, making the silverware slightly shake. Luckily I was used to the noise, so it didn't take long for me to regain my focus following the startle.

"Mother had me working on some Pyromancy in the study. I haven't been really successful" I said, delicately taking a seat diagonally from my father.

"Ah well pyromancy could be tricky, precision is the difference between a dancing flame and a burning house" He echoed once again, flashing a teethy smile at me.

"Very true" I forced out an uncomfortable smile.

This was mostly how my daily routine went; I did school with mother for 12 hours a day with 3 small breaks in between for food. Father always attempts to make small talk, and I try to enjoy a silent meal before the rest of my siblings come to eat as well.

Typically large manors as our own bustles with the daily activities of servants, maids, and cooks. A mansion is a well oiled machine where everyone has their special duties to aid in the convenience of the property owners.

Although our estate is always kept proper and tidy, no one lives in the house besides the 6 members of my family. All the vacant bedrooms have been transformed into classrooms, fitness rooms, and even greenhouses. Most of them are off limits, however, unless under supervision.

Most of our days are spent in the study, surrounded by books and historical artifacts. It is where I suspect my siblings came from when I heard the clicking of their shoes entering the dining hall.

"Good evening father" My older brother gleams proudly. Magnus was always the crown jewel of the family, not necessarily because he was exceptional, but because he knows what people want to hear. "Merope" he muttered tilting his head toward me.

Magnus took the seat across from me carefully trying not to mess up his dark auburn hair, from its sleeked back style. Father beamed at his son. I glowered, trying to keep my focus on devouring the food on my plate. Today we were having roast chicken with sautéed pears and honey, fresh from our gardens.

Often times it was difficult concentrating on eating when the eyes of my ancestors peered at me from the walls. I couldn't shake off the uncomfortable realization that Magnus looked just like them: Piercing gaze, chiseled jaw, and lips that will forever be slightly curled upwards.
Whilst I, have long wavy brown hair and green rounded eyes, following the ancestry of my mother. I know I'm conventionally attractive, but things like that don't matter in my household.