Lady Whittaker Wages War

The Princess, The Ogre, and The Heroic Prince

Her brother's belligerent yelling was nothing new to Daphne. She knew how the next few minutes would play out. He'd sought her out while she was playing alone in the garden so that there would be no prying eyes. He would yell at her for a little while for whatever small offense she had caused- today it was that she had touched his new chess set without his permission- then he would demand some sort of apology from her. He never found her apologies satisfying, and then the beating would come. Her punishment for speaking insolently, or not apologizing with enough sincerity, or for not using the right words. No matter how hard she tried, she never could satisfy him.

Her parents never believed her when she told them that David hated her. They chided her for acting immature and reminded her that he was older than her by six years and that she must respect him. He always acted like a perfect angel in front of them, a loving brother who bought her gifts and treated her with affection. It was when they were away on a house party, or to see to business at another estate that his true nature came out. Complaining to her parents always ensured the next one would hurt ten times more.

Daphne had found that the best way was to let David run out of steam. She would transport herself far away to a place in her head while he did whatever he wished.

In her mind, she was a princess, locked in a grand castle guarded by an ogre. The ogre was a tyrant that tormented the princess, even though she tried not to attract any notice whenever he was around. The ogre liked to hurt the princess, but the princess was brave, and she did not let herself fear the ogre and his anger for she knew that her prince worked tirelessly to save her.

He would arrive soon and save-

David forced her out of her imagination with an assault he had never attempted before. His thick, grubby fingers closed around her neck. Fear set in as she saw his face red with rage, spit flying as he hurled a slew of words at her- words that she did not understand, but the disdain with which he said them told her they were grave insults.

She couldn't breathe.

She couldn't breathe.

She flailed her limbs but her brother's grip was unrelenting. Tears pooled in her eyes. She was going to die. 

At her age, Daphne had never really contemplated death, she'd always assumed she'd had years and years ahead of her. When her grandmother had gone on to her reward, everyone had assured her she had passed painlessly.

Nothing about the burning in her lungs was painless.

In her fantasies, the princess always triumphed over the ogre. Her prince came and rescued her, and he took her off into the sunset on his majestic white stallion. He married her and they lived happily ever after.

God, please send my prince to me.

Please.

Her vision was beginning to fail her, fading into blackness that crept in from the edges.

Perhaps her fantasies were destined to remain just that- make believe. In the real world, there were no princes, the ogre acted the angel in front of anyone the princess might turn to for help, and the princess was labeled a liar.

In reality, the ogre killed-

A sudden force jerked David back, sending air gushing back into her lungs, scrapping her throat painfully. The sun blinded her, her eyes shutting close so that she could not see what was happening, but she heard the rough, masculine voice yelling. Next, the sound of someone getting hit and then David groaning in pain. The next thing she knew was that she had been enveloped in strong hands and lifted from the floor.