CASTOR: The Beginning.

~2~

Warning: there is heavy violence in this chapter!
! 15 years later !
Keith drops a glass of water when he hears it, a high pitched scream from the nearby fields in which young men were being trained to be the next generation of soldiers. He rushes out of the central command tent and parts the crowd to find the source. Fear something had happened to Catarina fills him as he does so. When he gets there he sees Catarina, half of her face was bleeding. She seemed to disregard the pain entirely, more focused on keeping her sparring partner, who had told her just before that, "This is why women don't fight," in a suffocating headlock.

"Catarina. Knock it off." He sighs as he speaks, this is nothing new for his daughter. "Whatever he did I will handle it." The infuriated teenager gets off the boy, who was still screeching, with a huff. The boy wipes his tears and runs off through the crowd to try and save his ego and reputation. "All of you, clear out, you have work to do." Keith waves them off.

"I had it handled!" Catarina spits. Immediately after, her adrenaline fades and the feeling of the wound over her face kicks in. She clutches it and doubles over in pain.

"Is this what handled looks like?" Keith throws her over his shoulder and brings her inside to tend her wound. "What happened?" He asks as he sits her on the table and pulls out his first aid kit. She'd been getting hurt since she could walk, he learned very fast how to tend wounds such as his.

"That conniving little bitch hit me on purpose!" Keith gives her a look for her language and she smiles with guilt.

"Are you certain of it, or did he just catch you off guard?" He takes a damp towel to her face to wipe as much of the blood as he can, Catarina promptly starts crying. The wound didn't seem horrible, there has definitely been worse wounds coming out of training, but she'd need stitches. The large gash stretched from above her eyebrow to just between her ear and cheekbone, her eye was unsalvageable.

"It was calculated. I watched him do it. It was like time slowed." She pauses to wince and grab at Keith's wrist, "It hurts."

"I know sweetheart. Just let me finish this. It needs stitches." He is focused, her hand leaves his wrist to allow him to continue. He hands her a strip of leather to bite down on as he patches up her face. It takes 10 minutes at most. Afterwards she sits on the table still, crying slightly still. Keith finishes bandaging it, some blood still seeps through.

"When can I take this off?" She tilts her head slightly. "I want to look less like i just rolled out of a war as soon as possible."

Keith doesn't say anything. Catarina's other eye widens in realization.

"You're joking. Father, please tell me you're joking."

"Your eye won't go back to how it was, he cut it damn well in half. I'm sorry, Cat." He places his hand on her shoulder and rubs it with his thumb. The action is disregarded entirely when she practically throws herself off of the table to bury her face in his shoulder and sob to her hearts content.
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It was later that night, the sun had set and everyone was settling down, everyone but me. I was angry. I used to be the prettiest girl for miles- namely because I probably wasn't inbred. That jackass took that away from me. I drop from my bunk and grab my carving knife from my side table. I'd left my window cracked before dinner for this reason alone, the creaking of it at this hour would immediately alert Father, I slip out of it and make my way back into the field. I knew where that rat bastard was sleeping, he'd been tormenting me since he got here. I handed his ass to him a few times, and him me, but he'd crossed the line. 'I'm just going to give him a little scare and a matching scar, then he'll learn not to fuck with me and we will go about our ways.'

I could hear them speaking, Emrys and his tent mates, he mentioned going out to grab some water from the river. 'Perfect.' I follow him there and let him grab his water. As he turns to leave I accidentally step on a twig, it snaps and draws his attention to me. In that moment something clicked, something almost animalistic in me, I don't understand it.

I stun myself with how silently I move, managing to get myself behind him as he peers into the woods where I had just been standing moments prior. I sneak up behind him and deck his ankle, he falls to the ground and immediately puts himself on his back to see what just knocked him down.

"Real funny, Catarina. I.. I'm sorry about your face. I didn't mean to dig that deep." He says, but the way he looks at me with fear when he sees the knife, it entertains me, "Wait, Cat- what are you-" His words are cut of by the the knife being thrown, the strength at which I threw it left it stuck to the hilt through his eye. That doesn't stop me. Nothing will. His screams egg me on. I pull it out and keep going, stabbing, cutting, watching the life leave his eyes and listening to his screams die out until I'm pulled off of him by someone I hadn't sensed.

"CATARINA. CATARINA STOP!" Keith screams as he pulls me off the poor boy. I push myself out of his grip and stand near the river. He looks at me in horror.

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Keith looks her over, her arms and face covered in blood, it stains her clothes, her eyes are what draw the most attention. They're solid yellow and glow softly for just a moment, it fades shortly after he notices.

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Everything feels different suddenly, I look down at myself, bloodstained and armed with my carving knife. I glance at Emrys, his skull was crushed in. He died almost immediately. I drop the knife and stare in horror at what I'd done. Taking a step backwards and feeling the rivers water at my feet.

"What...What have I done?" I raised a hand to my mouth.

"YOU CAN'T JUST KILL PEOPLE WHO MAKE YOU UPSET CATARINA! HE'S DEAD! BECAUSE OF YOU!" This is the first time I can remember my father truly yelling at me with anger, tears fill my eyes and I take off. I run back to my room and slam the door so hard the hinges rattle. Immediately breaking down into tears, 'I did that? And I enjoyed it? That wasn't what I was planning to do- just a harmless scratch! That he'd probably be proud of! Not...that.'

I change out of the bloodied clothing and force myself into bed, 'Maybe it will sort itself out by morning?' I hope, despite knowing deep down this will haunt me forever.

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Total Words: 1198