Chapter 6

My guardian strolled towards a pair of towering black oak doors, crowns carved into each one with the vast etching of a stags head; the sign of the last king that controlled these halls before my father. His nation vast and powerful. Yet, like many others; riddled with constant war. The last king became injured greatly in battle, eventually dying in his bed only hours after naming my father heir after having no kin of his own. My father of course had been surprised by this, taking the throne with a humble and love filled heart; later marrying my mother who had remained as one of the ladies in waiting after the death of her king. In his birth land, my father had been the fifth son born, having no rights to the throne of heritage of anything other than a small amount of land as a lord in my grandfather’s kingdom. But, that was not what the warrior had intended to do with his life, and instead, when this land was riddled with war and the old king called out for assistance; my father answered. Eventually leading the seemingly endless battles persisted for several years, proving to the stag king of elegance and strength that he was loyal. 

After the king’s death, my father retaliated to the invading armies with brute and putrid force, leaving no survivors as he butchered every last man, woman and child. Calling it justice and revenge in replacement for their king’s death. My grandfather was most pleased with his son’s efforts and his own kingdom now became larger with the help of my father and his new armies. Though this was not the end of the fighting and perhaps; there never would be in all the centuries that were to pass. The men of all lands craving the glorious death that followed every soldier; that lived in the heart of every man from the day of their birth. Honour and power. That was the way of our people, the way of all people.

I followed Derrick through the large doors, watching as he nodded to the guards situated at either side. Mimicking the actions of my guardian, I smiled politely, nodding towards every guard we passed with a tilt of my head. It was rare that my father ever called any of his children into the throne room, the action seeming too formal; wrong somehow. My heart pounded as I walked barely two steps behind Derrick, forcing my eyes to remain on the back of his head as the council seemed to be present in the throne room. Watching me pass with curious eyes. Like many who dwelled within the palace, the council disapproved of me, of my every action as if I were a burden to them; something that they could push out whenever they pleased. Though of course, my father would not allow that; informing them on many occasions that in spite of my strange abilities, I was his youngest child and would remain beside him. Not caring for what the people thought about me. 

I had known from a young age that superstition persisted as a dangerous thing, the fear of something that they did not understand causing the men of all kingdoms to act irrationally and without cause. This had caused the great witch trials after my birth, the strange curse that I had been placed with proving that they existed and this; the mortals did not like. The council had burned many women at the stake, attempting to do the same to me when I was a young child; insisting that I was a danger to all of them. But really, at only five years of age I had no idea that my power was deadly and used it against the soldiers when they came for me. This was a mistake. My ability killing almost fifty men within a mile of where I resided.

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.”