Fractured Youth

Fire Breathing Bitch Queen - 3

Age: 10

I knew I'd been gone too long the second I got back. With my bow and quiver strung over my back, I couldn't move as stealthily as I would've wanted. My senses told me that while everything seemed calm, it was all a pretence. The calm before a storm.

I made it to my room without running in to anyone, not even a guard. So when I turned the light on, I wasn't surprised to see my father sitting in a throne like chair in the middle of my room. Being ready for it didn't stop me from being scared though.

"Celeste." Said my father, sounding nothing like a father and everything the cruel High Lord the world knew he was. He stood, and I gazed up at him, for the millionth time glad I'd gotten my mother's genes rather than his. While I had my mother's fiery red hair and golden eyes, my father had hair the colour of corn silk, and eyes of blue flame.

He grabbed me by the arm and started dragging me towards the study, nearly making me cry out. I was afraid he'd break my arm with how strong he was holding me.
"Father! Father you're hurting me!" I tried to get out of his grip but he only held on tighter.
"Good." Is all he said, throwing me in the dim room, lit only by the soft fire in the fireplace.

"Do you have any idea what you're doing?!" The High Lord roared at me, making me flinch back, as much as I didn't want to. "We are in the middle of a war Girl. What message do you think it sends if you're out alone at night?!" He strode towards me and roughly yanked my bow off of me. "You're the gods damned Princess! Act like it!" And with that, he threw my bow, my one tiny piece of freedom, into the fire.

All the breath emptied from my lungs and I blinked back tears, my face flushing with rage.
"We wouldn't be in the middle of a war if you had even tried to make peace with Lord Andrew!" I shouted back at him, he glowered.
"I did you idiotic child. He refused my offer to have his daughter marry Alexander Rickman's son. The moron."
"Maybe that's because Lord Andrew is a father who actually gives a damn about his daughter!" I screamed. "You've been grumbling since the day I was born that I wasn't a son, and you will hold it against me until the day I die!"
His glare turned dangerous. "Mind your tongue girl, I am still the high lord, and your father. And you are a princess. Starting tomorrow you're going to act like it!"
My fingers curled into fists. "I'll act like a princess the day you act like a real father!" I yelled before storming out of the room. He didn't follow me.

I made it all the way back to my room before the tears started to fall. I pulled my quiver off and went to the hidden drawer I had, pulling out the rose I'd picked 6 years ago, which was still alive and healthy thanks to the magic it contained. Remembering the male who'd cared about my well-being more than my own father, despite not even knowing my name. I would find a way to thank him one day.

I carefully put the rose back in its hiding place and went to the armoury, taking my time in picking myself a new bow, and taking it back to my room, where I took out my carving knife, and began to work.

By the time I was done. The bow was well and truly mine. I'd started by engraving my initials into the wood, followed by an intricate carving of the rose I had, still alive, still beautiful, and always a reminder. A reminder that there were good people out there. A reminder that I might find and thank that warlock male one day. A reminder that I might be free.

All I had to do was outlive my father.