Chapter 7
Though despite the fact that I was a murderer, (by no choice of my own) my father remained true to my life and the memory of my mother. Ensuring that I would always be protected and cared for whilst he held the throne, this of course; caused war. Several neighbouring kingdoms calling for my head.
And yet, with the strength of a thousand men, my father resisted annihilating the armies that dared to stand against him.
I took a deep breath, moving to stand beside Derrick as I searched the extravagant hall for my father; successfully avoiding the distrusting eyes of the council.
I smiled, rushing forward as my father stood from his steel throne, the mass structure forged from the old battle shields of every king before him; each one never daring to rust as it remained in the presence of a king. I jumped into the king’s bulging arms, giggling as he wrapped them around my small frame and lifted me from the ground; spinning in a tight circle.
Yes, they were the arms that had killed hundreds, if not thousands of men in battle, but they were also the gentle arms of a father who held his daughter with care and love; his smile utterly flawless.
He placed me back onto the floor after a moment, taking a step back as he examined my dress; his radiating blue eyes immediately capturing my full attention; the world around us seeming to fall into a silent pit. Leaving only father and daughter to speak as one, as a unit rather than individuals. Our play perfectly sought out and practiced whilst in the company of watchful eyes.
“Daughter, I am pleased to see you have risen from your bed. I trust that you are well?” He smiled, affectionately placing a large hand on my shoulder; his flowing brown hair partially covering his face.
I nodded, proudly lifting my gaze towards him as I spoke; my tone light and docile. “Yes father, I am most well.”
He nodded in return, glancing around the room at the council members as they watched him with darkening eyes, knowing that they all scrutinised the manner in which they greeted one another. My father shook his head after a moment of silence, his voice echoing through the throne room as his tone filled with power, warning all to do as he commanded. “Leave us, I wish to speak with my daughter without vultures hanging around.”
I smiled, stifling a giggle as the council members muttered in groups of two of more, turning to leave the throne room at the command of their king; their hesitation clear as they paused in the large doorway. My father barely seeming to notice their reluctance to leave as he turned to smile towards my guardian, a slight nod passing between them as the unnatural glint once again appeared in Derrick’s eyes.
Strange - I thought wildly - that is the second time today that my guardian had looked at anyone in such a manner.
His mood dark and brooding. What has caused this change in him?
This hatred.
I shook my head, leaving my thoughts within my mind as I turned to look back at my father, his eyebrows raised as he regarded my actions closely. Seeming to know that something was wrong. Pushing my smile forward, I spoke with care; watching my tone even in the presence of my father. “Though I do appreciate being called upon father, why here? You rarely call us to meet in the throne room.”
My father laughed the sound deep and thundering as it spun around my head; my smile increasing with each breath that he took. “No I suppose I do not, daughter. Though why must we be so formal? Have you forgotten who I am child?”
Shaking my head once more, I began to relax, suddenly realising that I was tense and on guard; even when I stood before the man that given me life. “Oh, forgive me; I’m afraid I had forgotten our promise of never to be fake around one another.”
“It is perfectly reasonable, what with your sisters constantly demanding that you be polite and respectful. Though they bore me. I fear they do not have your spark Sanctus, not like your mother.” My father sighed, his smile remaining as he adjusted his black robes, each piece of clothing he wore crafted from the finest cotton; yet easily manoeuvrable in battle.
I smiled up at his armoured breast plate, once again noticing that he still wore the armour of the stag after all these years, vast antlers reaching across his broad chest. I shifted my eyes towards the sheath by his side, the large jewel at the hilt of his long sword breathtaking as the red shone through his black cloak; informing me that he still did not trust the members of the council enough to remove his weapon in their presence. Smart.
I believed that each one of them would betray him were they given a chance, taking the throne for themselves and even selling our secrets to other nations.
I forced my eyes to return to my father after a long moment, pushing my mind towards the compliment he had given. “No I suppose they will never be like you and I, father. I fear they bask in the glory of being a silent witness. Which pushes me to ask, have you thought any more on my question?”
“No Sanctus we have been through this, you are still a child and I will not take you into battle with me while you are untrained.” My father replied harshly, shaking his head as his smile fell.
“Then train me father, I can help with the war. Do something other than stand around all day learning how to hold forks and speak in a manner that I do not care for.” I argued defiantly lifting my chin, I could not stand back and watch whilst my brothers fought; despite the fact that it was expected of me. I was not born to be a silent witness, but someone who could call upon all the glory of men, fight even when I was not wanted and use my curse to help our people.
“I will not go through this again, you will not fight Sanctus, and the battlefield is not fit for a woman. Let alone a girl. You will remain here with your sisters.” My father informed with a growl, his tone stern and unforgiving; as if dismissing the conversation.
I shook my head in frustration, my shoulders hardening in the wake of an argument. I had to get my feelings out before they tore me from the inside, leaving me as only a shell. The ways of our people old fashioned and foolish. “I have as much right to fight for the kingdom as you do father. And the battlefield may not be fit for a woman but my mother fought beside you; so why then can I not?”