My Queen, My Sword

Freedom above all else

"PROSPECTS FOR GIVING MY HAND IN WHAT?"

"UHH... Marriage, my dear."

"I refuse! I refuse, I refuse, I refuse!"

Desdemona's father shook his head in exasperation and ran his hand through his already thinning hair. He was a short sort of fellow with a pudgy figure. He despite being quite old had not yet understood the fine inner workings of a female mind. He did not see why Desdemona would refuse an offer of marriage.

"Look", he tried to reason,"Isn't that what you women like? Besides...erm... quilting and cooking?"

" Do you really think that I would enjoy quilting and cooking?"

Try as he might, he could not imagine his daughter sitting down and doing something that involved a delicate use of fingers.

Desdemona's grey eyes burned and told stories of the wind and the fire and something wild shimmered in them. Her brown hair were the only feminine thing about her. Despite her small bony figure she cut a striking image. The men respected her much more then her father. Everyone had heard the story about the man in the barn whose index fingers had been bent into a strange angle. Therefore, they kept a healthy distance.

Hersiy tried again. "Have a look, dear. Duke Samsol's son is to inherit a vast amount of properties as well as the dukedom. His father was so very pleased when i told him that i would consider the offer very seriously"

Desdemona sighed. " Sir I just can't do it. I want you to send a letter of refusal to each of my suitors" She spit out the last word as if it was dirtiest word in history.

"Desdemona..." But she was already gone.

                                                                            **********

Desdemona slammed her door shut and screamed with frustration. Her freedom wasn't permanent. But why? Because she wasn't a man? She could fight as well as one and hadn't she proved she was tough? The idea of having to look pretty day and night, having no say, being an ornament and nothing else made bile rise up in her throat.

Her mother had loved Shakespeare and had named her daughter Desdemona, the faithful and devoted wife. The irony of it never failed to amuse her. Collapsing in her bed she pulled off her riding boots and flung them in a corner.  Her room was dark and the table in the corner usually reserved for all those beauty products that she never could understand was littered with maps and books. The four poster bed had several chunks of wood missing as she used it for target practice when she was angry. Even if she did marry and was able to still run the estate would she still be herself? Would she not be able to recognize herself? She felt like crying. She never cried, not when her mother had passed away, not when she had broken her arm when she taught herself to fight, never ever.

Angry at herself she got up and wiped her face. Picking up a book she ran outside and slid down the banister. Making her way to the kitchen where dinner was being prepared, she slid out the back door. The servants wouldn't talk and her father would never know. Letting all thoughts of decorum go she lifted up her skirt and ran. Flinging herself on her horse she rode with ferocity till she was out of sights from the grounds. The valley was surrounded by jagged mountains and the view was breathtaking. Desdemona loved it, every crevice of it. It was her home. She had laughed here, cried here, lost and found herself. When she was here she forgot everything her father, her worries, everything. She wasn't Desdemona, daughter of this and that. She was Desdemona, who became wind with the wind, fire with the fire. 

Reaching the edge of the woods Desdemona dismounted and walked on. The dark woods comforted her. She knew her way and soon reached a stream. She drank the cold pure water which invigorated her. Climbing a tree she picked an apple, made herself comfortable and began to read.

She was Desdemona and she would bow down to no one.

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KAZ BREKKER!!! EEK!!!

Anyways...

Yayyy!!

I'll try to update tomorrow or later during the day.

May the stars watch over you.

~Danim