Wild Flowers

The Oncoming Storm

Dawn arrived with wispy pink clouds and an orange hue filtering down to the soil below. The birds outside began their morning chorus, ruffling their feathers in the long awaited light and wishing one another a pleasant morning. Sophia had been awake hours prior, waiting patiently with her knees tucked up to her chest. She listened to the birds with a scowl on her rounded features, envying their freedom. She couldn't help but be reminded of the pretty, pretentious young ladies in her fathers court with large puffy bowl gowns. Their adoring smiles and chirping voices would sound off whenever anyone of importance passed by them in the hall. Sophia had always preferred the company of the kitchen staff, rather than mocking her behind their back with whispered tones, they had given her scraps of sticky honey cake and warm bread.

"Sophia, your father is looking for you again," Emma bustled into the kitchen with her golden hair a mess and a basket of chicken feed grasped in her arms.

The words struck a little fear into her chest, but she held her head up proudly (or as proudly as one can with cake crumbs stuck to their chin), "He wants me to go to the ball."

Mrs. Thomas gave the young girl a sympathetic smile, "I know, Love."

"The other girls will trip me again," At thirteen years old, Sophia was already becoming aware of how she was treated differently. She sat on a floury workbench in the kitchens, eating left overs as she watched Mrs Thomas expertly kneed and fold bread dough into neat loaves.

"Just stay away from them Dear," She wiped floury hands on her apron and carried a heavy tray of loafs to bake in the sweltering oven.

"They'll follow me. Why do I have to attend?"

"Because you're the Princess, and you will one day be a Queen."

"I'd rather work in the kitchen with you," Sophia pushed out her bottom lip in a pout.

Mrs Thomas laughed, "Sophia my Dear, any little girl dreams of being a Princess and marrying a handsome Prince."

Sophia's young face screwed up in disgust, "Boys are disagreeable"

Mrs Thomas smiled at her, "It won't always be that way. I'm sure your father will pick a lovely young man for you to spend your life with."

"Pick? I shall choose surely!" Sophia exclaimed

The older of the two gave her a timid smile, "I'm sure you will."

As the sun rose higher the birds began to dive down to the ground, plucking fat wriggling worms and crunchy beetles from the soil for their breakfast. Sophia stood with a blanket still wrapped around her shoulders, and crossed the circular room to scratch a line into the brick work with a knife. The line joined many others, each representing another morning witnessed from the bars of her tower window. Below her keep, smoke rose up into the clear spring morning. Her guard was still resting, surrounded by piles of blackened bones and charred animal limbs. A seventy-foot dragon lay curled up like a friendly moggy, smoke bellowing from his nostrils with every ground shaking snore.

The knife handle spun effortlessly between Sophia's fingers as she glanced around the room. It was silver, with flowers carved into the based. According to her markings she had been here just over a year. Her 21st birthday would arrive in a few days, and she was sure she was running out of time to make her escape. There was a single, tall window with a plank of wood large enough below for her to sit on a gaze out onto the world she missed. Her view was a dense Forest that was often empty, the only sign of life the birds; and the occasional flash of brown as a squirrel darted along its outskirts, looking for fallen nuts between the wild flowers.

Twice during her imprisonment, smoke had filtered up between the trees, starting at the base of the slopping mountains and moving closer to the castle each evening. A tell tale sign that a pompous Prince was on a expedition to kill the dragon and take Sophia's unwilling hand. Neither made it far. She was certain the dragon hadn't been put there to make sure her future husband was 'worthy', but to make sure that she didn't make her escape before he had a chance to get there. However, if anyone did make it up the tower, Sophia had decided she would be waiting with to stab him without hesitation in the chest or throat and watch his blood spill over the cold stone floor. She hadn't killed anyone before, but had seen many bar side brawls, and read enough adventure novels to know the basics. She would rather live her days in isolation than be picked like a blooming flower, only to die days later.

Her dwelling was crammed with furniture, papers and discarded royal gifts. It was simple to assume her father kept this tower to fill with belongings he no longer wanted- including his misbehaving daughter. She was put here in storage, along with the bookcases, until a Prince was foolish enough to save her; or (more likely) her sour father found one desperate enough to marry a Princess with a reputation of climbing trees and kissing rambunctious pheasant girls.

However, it couldn't be said the King didn't have a sense of humour, or at the very least irony. Amongst her cluttered companions were numerous dusty books, each covering themes it etiquette and wife-hood, along with wardrobes filled with frilly, itchy frocks that Sophia despised. Naturally, her response was to deface the books with childish alterations, and to write her own book about the miserable trap that is married life. She found it oddly satisfying to see her manuscript between two books written to oppress bright young girls into boring housewives. As for the frocks, she tore them apart and reformed them into simple and practical gowns that her mother would tut at. At least her sewing and embroidery lessons finally became useful for something.

Outside the dragon's slumber came to an end, and the birds flew off to hide in the forest. It was not unusual to hear him chase after them, his large jaw snapping playfully at their wing tips for entertainment more than breakfast. Today however, he seemed unusually restless. Sophia could hear him pacing back and forth and scratching at the soil with his large claws. Curious, she stuck her head between two bars and glanced down at the terrifying beast. His blue and silver scales shimmered like unshed tears in the morning light, and his large spiked tail swung restlessly behind him.

"Askook" She called down, glancing out to the Forest where he was staring intently. The dragon glanced up briefly, before returning to his watchful post. Sophia immediately felt uneasy, her grip tightening around the handle of her knife subconsciously. She had seen no fires warning her it an impending suitor, and Askook had always taken them out in his stride without so much as a nervous huff of smoke.

Unsure what else to do, Sophia changed from her thin nightdress into a pair of leather trousers she fashioned from a patch work of old corsets, and a loose fitted shirt that she secured with a worn belt. She tied her mousy hair back from her face and perched on the window seat, staring out at the Forest with her eyes squinted, looking for anything that might alert her to what Askook was seeing. There was not so much as a rustle in the Forest's leaves to show any kind of movement, and time passed slowly. The sky began to darken and clouds gathered around the sun threatening rain. There was a chill in the air as the droplets began to fall and Sophia's uneasiness grew looking out at the oncoming storm.