New found love (LokixReader)

Chapter 3: taking flight

I sprint full pelt out of the palace, ignoring the ever-growing stitch gnawing at my side. The shouts of guards echo behind me, their voices closing in with every step I take. My path to freedom narrows with each passing second.

It's now or never.

I pause only long enough to change into clothing more suitable for my escape: a lightweight, combat-ready outfit, Alfheim's finest make. The fabric clings to my body, a deep forest green designed to blend seamlessly with the thick woods I'm heading toward. Gold stitching decorates the edges, a silent tribute to the life I'm leaving behind. My feet are encased in simple leather boots, their soles designed for traction and speed-an advantage over the guards weighed down by their heavy armor.

I force myself to breathe, stealing what little air I can as I resume my sprint, pushing the pain from my mind.

Overhanging brambles and vines lash at my face and hands, leaving small, stinging cuts, but I press on. The shouts grow louder, accompanied now by the unmistakable thundering of hooves.

In a blind panic, I cast an illusion, conjuring a double of myself to mislead the guards. She's nearly identical, save for her brighter clothing-garish enough to draw attention. I direct her path to intersect with my father's patrol, hoping the guards will be lured away and my father's wrath will fall upon her instead.

It works. Several guards break off from the chase, their attention captured by the decoy. But I can't afford to feel relief-not yet. The rest are still hot on my heels, their horses closing the gap with terrifying speed. Damn.

I plunge deeper into the forest, the stitch in my side now a searing pain that tears at my lungs with every breath. Nausea rolls through me as my heart races, my legs screaming for a reprieve. But I can't stop-not now. If I falter, the punishment waiting for me will be worse than death.

I can already picture the cold, dark cells where I'd rot, forgotten and starved. The beatings would be relentless, a constant reminder of my 'treason' against the royal family. I would become nothing more than an outcast, a criminal-a shadow of the princess I once was.

I've lost control. I attacked a royal official, damaged the palace, and evaded royal arrest. And that's only the beginning of the charges my father will surely level against me. There's no arguing my case; Vanaheim is no longer my home. But it will not be my prison-not anymore.

After what feels like an eternity of running, I finally reach a small cargo ship docked in a nearby town. Relief washes over me as I recognize the worn-down path that led me here. It's the heart of Vanaheim's trading center, bustling with crowds that will help me blend in.

Without hesitation, I leap into the back of the unattended ship, tucking myself behind a stack of crates. I cast a cloaking spell, shrouding myself in invisibility as the guards sweep the area, their eyes scanning every face. Word has spread quickly of the 'princess's vengeful rampage,' and I can't help but admire my father's handiwork. It suits his narrative: powerful, uncontrollable, a danger to others.

"Well played, Father... well played," I mutter under my breath, nursing the stitch in my side.

Now hidden, I take stock of my surroundings. The cargo consists of weaponry, clothing, food, books, and jewelry. The jewels hold little interest for me, but they might fetch a decent price. The food is more than welcome, and the books-ah, the books are a treasure.

This ship is bound for Xandar, where the goods will be traded. Once there, I can barter with the local tradesmen, perhaps even secure a ship of my own. I have enough credits, and if I bargain well, I'll have more. The plan is risky, far-fetched even, but what choice do I have? I either take the chance or return to a life of torment that I know all too well they are capable of delivering.

Suddenly, the ship's engines rumble to life. I silently thank the gods for going undetected, certain that the guards would have begun authorizing searches of all departing vessels.

The ship shudders as it lifts off, signaling the beginning of my new life-far away from this place I can no longer call home.