Scorn and Devotion

Chapter 47

warnings - remembering abuse from an establishment, dealing with a negligent father and abusive mother, PTSD, Unrequited love, remembering murder, friends with benefits, angst, smut, oral (male receiving), denying oral (female)

Timothée and I didn't talk for the entire day after our little tiff. I didn't really want to speak to any of the girls either so I spent the day practicing my sword skills and getting fitted for the dress I was to wear to the ball where Timothée would meet everyone's parents. I was dreading this event. On one hand, I would see my father, which was a rare affair, on the other I would have to be in close proximity with my mother for an extended amount of time. She had not sought me out since my return, for which I was grateful.

I had to wonder if my father had even known I was gone. He was so often not privy to things in the kingdom that were happening. He spent his time on battle fronts, in secluded mountain training bases, and spying in other kingdoms. If my mother had not told him, and the King had been too ashamed to inform him, who knew if he really did know I had been gone. Another thing was, I would have to deal with my father's over abundance of cheer about every situation. I had always been more morose and brooding than my father, yet kinder and more silly than my mother. Sometimes, I had to wonder how I was their daughter at all.

Finally, the night of the Family Ball came, and I was being dressed. I still had not spoken to Timothée, and I half wanted to send away my ladies maid to see if he would come barging into the room again. I didn't dare pull that stunt again though, because there was no way with my arms weakened from over practicing, that I would be able to get into my gown on my own.

I cringed every time one of the women touched me. My thoughts were filled with dark dismal days at The Academy, my hair being pulled and braided and burned; and then thoughts of elongated fingers preparing me for Abraxas's sick parties.

My dress looked rather like an ornate painting. It was sleeveless and sky blue. Most of the bodice and skirt of the dress were covered in pink, red, and white flowers that looked so realistic I'd had to touch one to see if the petals were as soft and delicate as they looked. It ended in layers of gold and clusters of gauzy ruffles. I preferred it to the pink dress of night before, but not to the dresses I'd worn to the balls before leaving. I suppose that was want to happen, when I continuously told my seamstresses that I did not care what they made me, and to just analyze the theme. It seemed so pointless to plan out a dress when all I wanted to do was forget these balls were even happening and make Timothée all mine.

Finally, I was done and I began moving apathetically down the hall, towards the ball room. I was taken very off guard when someone grabbed my arms. I was crushed into a hug, before I could even figure out what was happening.

"My darling girl!"

"Papa," I said, a grin stretching over my face at the deep resounding voice. He held me at arms length, a huge smile on his blonde, bearded face.

"You look so beautiful!" He remarked. "How did a man like me get such a beautiful daughter?"

He was always so full of compliments. It was mostly a good thing. Sometimes, I didn't want to hear how smart and beautiful and brave I was when I was telling him Orlaith had ruined yet another part of my life. I would never understand his devotion to that woman.

"Thank you," I said politely. "Where have you just come from?" I was always eager to hear stories of his triumphs. He took my arm and walked me to the ball room, while loudly telling me of his victories. I was almost too distracted by my father's stories to not notice Timothée once we were in the Ceremony Room.

His hair fell in long curls, delicate and bouncy. He wore a marvelous suit that almost matched the coloring of my dress. It was a darker blue with paler colored flowers. The circlet of silver in his hair had bright blue sapphires glinting on it. He looked heavenly to say the least. He met my eyes, but forced himself to look away quickly.