Merchant Of Cats

Chapter Two: A Song Is A Song

 Chapter Two: A Song Is A Song

       Elsa laughed bitterly at the thought. How could a song save her? Sure, she could sing it, but nothing would happen. A song was nothing more than a string of words. It wasn’t magic, it couldn’t help. She felt stupid for even thinking about it.

             That was perhaps the only thing Maeva was ever seemed silly about. She knew many things and was a very intelligent woman, but when it came to songs, everything went out the wind. She believed words held power, especially when they were used by someone whose heart was pure. Silly as it was, Elsa sometimes believed Maeva. For she often got a serious, albeit faraway look in her eyes. One that suggested she knew more than she was letting on.

         For the longest time Elsa had wanted to agree, that if only she sang a song, everything would be alright, but after many fruitless years, Elsa gave up and only pretended to have trust in her elder sister’s words.

          Laughing so that she would not cry, Elsa lay back in her bed and hugged herself close. She was so afraid of what the next day would bring. Knowing her father, she was sure he wouldn’t waste time in arranging her wedding.

         And she was right. She awoke and was promptly greeted by a note on her bed stand. One that read as pretty much the same as all the other notes he’d ever sent. The jist of it was; she was a disappointment, a useless piece of work, she was worthless, and she was to join him for lunch. Except there was a post script, one that foretold the days plan.

        So, Elsa hurriedly slipped on a dress and tiptoed to the dining room. He was already sitting there, a cup of tea touching his lips just as she made it to her chair. Seating herself , she said nothing.

        He gave her a look over, his cold eyes boring holes into her skin as he shook his head in disgust. It was the same routine as always, though there was no Maeva for him to glare at.

          “I see you’ve decided to gift me with your prescence, even though you caused quite a mess last night. Kevlis came over but I had to turn him away. When the maids found you , you were in your own sick and not even close to presentable. You disgraced me!” Elsa nodded in agreement, and flinched as she watched him lay his whip against the table. He saw her staring  and smirked. 

        “I’m sorry, father. It won’t happen again." She said, her voice barely audible.  Her father heard her though, and slipped the whip back beneath the table.

      “Know this,  the only reason you escaped the harsh licks is because I’ve called for a dressmaker. I really don’t care to explain myself to rabble as such.” Elsa stiffened in fear and nodded. Though this seemed to have been the wrong thing to do and her father’s face went red. “Is that all you can do!? Nod like a daft piece of shit!? Maybe I should teach you a lesson, you little cow!”

       Stricken with terror, Elsa could only blink until the right words came to mind.

         “Father-“ He cut her off.

      “Don’t “father” me. I know how you work, you act like a house cat but you’re really a tiger!” Elsa gasped.

        A wild, dark look had come to her father’s face. He was having another of his episodes.

         Like with a raving madman, nothing was safe from him. More than one occasion had gone by and Elsa found herself nursing cuts and gashes all over her body. She even remembered Maeva coming out of a room she’d locked the two of them in with a bleeding face. For months afterward she had to wear a bandage over her eye for the longest time.