Haley Thistle
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The Shadow, the Orc, & the Princess: Part One (rough draft)
🕑 Added 2022-06-04 20:01:00 +0000 UTCMy father was always a very odd man. Even as a young prince he showed his strange beliefs and qualities without hindrance. No one ever thought he would take the throne, so he was sent away. They thought he was swept under the rug.
He would tell me stories of these days, how he traveled, met with people he would never come into contact with otherwise. As a young man he let himself indulge, and when he was ready, he prepared himself for what might lie ahead. He told me that I would have to be ready as well, because the throne is a hard fought battle won.
I was introduced to my father’s way of thinking and looking at the world from the moment I could understand. He taught me the importance of survival, of relying upon myself, as well as his mystical views on everything in between. I held daggers in my hands instead of dolls. I learned how to tie knots insteads of ribbons. My father thought dresses were a hindrance and had all my clothes made to match his own garb. I only wore dresses to special events because of my mother’s insistence I have some bit of normalcy. But even then my father made sure my skirts were outfitted to be removed at a moment's notice.
Because no one wanted to teach the princess how to sword fight, grapple, and various other bloody sports, my father taught me himself.
“It should be this way anyways, little Leo. Because if I cannot even teach my own child, how am I expected to lead this kingdom?” He was always smiling when he talked to me. He always seemed so proud when we were working together.
“They thought I was the crazy one,” he told me one night. “Because I didn’t think along with the rest of them.” He always tucked me into bed, checking under my pillow to make sure my favorite dagger was in place. “But my brother was far worse. He thought like them, but he was more cold blooded and ruthless than a viper. But vipers have reason for being who they are.”
“What happened to him?” I asked.
My father’s smile grew. “He tried to kill something very precious. So I had a decision to make, either I let my brother suffocate what good was left in this kingdom, or I did what was right and kill him myself.”
My eyes widened. “You’ve killed someone before, dad?”
He threw his head back laughing. “Those are stories for another time.” He pet the top of my head. “Just know, my darling, that your father would kill anyone for you.”
I smiled, comforted by his words. I was never afraid of the dark or anything that lurked in it, because I knew I had my father who would take care of me. No matter what.
Despite this, I was still trained hard to prepare for the day I would have to take him down from his throne.
“Madness lies in your blood, little Leo,” my father would always tell me. “My grandfather had it, my mother had it, and my brother was exceptionally blessed with it. I for sure have it as well, but there may be a day you need to do what is best for this kingdom and take me down. Just like I had to. When that happens I will put up a fight. That is why you must be trained. Plus, all this physical exertion is good for the brain. We might be able to stave off whatever madness we have, right?”
I smiled up at him. “Yes, dad!”
“Atta girl, now let’s get to it.” He would toss me a sword at random. Sometimes they were too big for me and hard to swing. Other times they were old and would break mid-battle. He did this to teach me to always think on my feet, and to be creative should I be dealt a strange hand.
As I grew up, my mother expected things of me as well. She wanted me to be presented and courted, to be a princess and not my father’s warrior. She was disappointed in how muscular my arms and back became, as it meant I didn’t fit properly into the pretty dresses she wanted me to wear. She once attempted stopping me from training by telling my father I was sick. But the bed rest didn’t diminish my muscle like she hoped. Instead I just started to get pudgy like my mother.
I loved both my parents dearly and knew they were both doing what they thought was best for me. My father wanted me to survive, and my mother wanted to see me taken care of. I understood both their views, but I liked my father’s more.
“I have learned to tolerate the training, the fighting, and her being scuffed and bruised from head to toe. But I would like her to know more about the other side of things, dearest.” My mother would fuss over this at least once a month.
“What could dancing and promenade teach her?” My father tutted back.
“We met while dancing, Falko,” she said with a smirk.
“Yes, and I fell for that trap!” He laughed proudly. “But Leopoldine is far too young for that. And besides, she will meet her future partner on the battlefield! Teach her to dance later, not that it matters.”
My mother was always so calm and accepting of my father’s behaviour. But sometimes she got a look that even made him quiver in his boots. Her eyes would narrow, her long lashes seeming to extend like dark wings. Her brows then arched high and her mouth formed into a prim pout. She would then coil her hand around my father’s arm and color would vanish from his face.
“She will not be part of any battlefield, Falko! I cannot have another child, so you have to let me take part in Leopoldine’s upbringing as much as you do! I cannot not simply be relegated to teaching her how to tend to her hair!”
My father looked me over, his smile vanishing as he tried to think of how to dissuade the situation. “To be fair darling, she has the prettiest hair in the entire castle.”
My mother’s hand remained coiled around his thick bicep. She squeezed gently and my father’s cheeks flushed. “You know what I mean, Falko. I have motherly duties to impart on her as my daughter. I will not continue hearing her being called a feral child.”
My father’s lip curled and he placed his hand over my mother’s. “Your mother could learn to keep her mouth shut when she visits. If anyone is a vicious animal, it would be her.”
“Falko,” my mother sighed.
He sighed heavily. “Alright Arda, you may have her for whatever demented training you’ve got planned in the evenings.”
That looked returned and her nails sunk into his arm. “She’s tired by then! No. I want her every other day.”
“Do you know how much training she will miss?” My father snapped.
Her eyes softened and another pout came to her lips. “She can miss it. It will be good for her.”
He grumbled under his breath and paced before the fire. “Alright, fine. You know I like it when you are headstrong. You may have her three days a week.”
“That’s a lot,” I interjected.
My mother put her hands around my face. “Compared to how much your father steals you away?”
Every other day I went with my mother after breakfast, longing to go with my father outside. Instead I was put into uncomfortable shoes to dance, or placed in my mother’s study to practice cross stitch or calligraphy.
“Ow!” I hissed as a needle jabbed into my finger. Cross stitching was one of my mother’s favorite pastimes and thought it would be good I learned it.
“You can’t just stab at it like you do with your daggers.” She moved to my side, taking a loo at my finger.
“Between dancing and this I think I get injured more with your training than Dad’s!” I huffed. My fingertips were nothing more than pincushions.
My mother smiled as she rubbed my finger. “I don’t believe that for a second. Just like with your father, you can’t just strike meaninglessly.” She took up her project again, showing me how she took her needle through the fabric. She went slow and purposefully, gently pressing the needle.
“The cloth isn’t flesh, you don’t have to force your needle through.”
I frowned. “But why do I even need to learn this?”
She cut her eye at me. “Why do you have to learn sword fighting?”
“To survive!” I argued. “I don’t need to know this to live.”
She calmly laid down her hoop and breathed in deep. “Maybe not. But I will tell you something young lady, this did help to keep me alive.”
I furrowed my brow at her.
“I was in a very horrible situation before your father came along. I had so many dark days and so many horrible thoughts.” She smoothed her fingers along the stitches she had made. “If it weren’t for this and keeping myself busy, I would be long gone. And so would you.”
“Mom-” My voice choked off in my throat.
She smiled at me. “Not all survival techniques are about fighting and hunting. Sometimes your survival lies in the smallest of things, Leopoldine. Dancing, stitching, calligraphy, all these things I want you to know, not just because I think they are fun, because you may need to fall back on them later in the most unexpected way.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmured.
She put her arms around me, placing her one hand on the back of my head. “I bet your dancing has come in handy with your sword fighting too. Are you noticing any changes? Perhaps you’re moving better?”
“A little,” I muttered. “My feet feel stronger for some reason.”
My mother kissed my temple then smoothed down my hair. “I bet you can combine the two if you wanted.” She then tapped the tips of my fingers. “And I bet calluses on your fingers would help you hold the sword better!”
I smiled at her. “Yeah.”
“Then let’s continue.”
I loved both my parents greatly, and I took joy from both their teachings. Unfortunately there was a dark cloud that loomed over me in the form of my grandmother. Arda the First, my mother’s mother, was a very strict, very traditional woman. She was the exact kind of person my father absolutely detested. My father was also equally detested by Arda the first. Because of this animosity my mother’s family rarely visited us. But as I got older, my grandmother started to demand that I come and visit her.
“Over my dead, bloated, partially eaten by wild animals body!” My father roared. “I will not have Leo being tortured by the venemous coin purse!”
“Now dearest,” my mother scoffed. “I am not fond of the idea either, but it might be good for Leopoldine to spend time with her relatives.”
“I would rather she lived in the pig sty than your family. You’re the only pearl to come out of those bottom feeding parasites!”
My mother smiled at the compliment. “I know my mother is hard to get along with, but Leopoldine is good at taking care of herself. And at this age now she can do as she pleases. You know she won’t take to heart what is said.”
“But they will still say it to her,” my father griped.
My mother nodded in agreement. “I’ll try to come up with an excuse. But eventually we will have to relent or else she will show up here.”
My father shuddered. “Fine. we can delay for now.”
The older my father grew, the more bizarre he became. What little filter he maintained was fading fast, as were his cares for what others thought. He started a wrestling tournament, inviting both nobles, royals, and commoners alike to join into the festivities. He would also teach his beliefs on nature and the divine other side. He was a frequent competitor in his own arena, and if he was impressed by those who challenged him he hired them to serve in his guard. But so far, no one could beat him.
My dad was a big guy and was very imposing. Add on to that, that he was king and barely anyone wanted to touch him during those fights. Most of those who did had nothing to lose and they would usually join the ranks of my father’s elite.
“It’s a relief your father has never asked you to join in,” my mother said one day.
We always watched the fights from a special box. Once my father’s new hobbie got popular he built an arena.
“He knows I’ll join when I want to,” I replied. “Look, there he is.”
When my father walked into the arena he wore nothing to suggest he was a king. His hair was down, he wore only his pants. He did this to show that even with his status he was still an ordinary man.
“Who will challenge me today?” My father shouted into the heavens. “Who believes they can best me?”
There was a wave of noise from the crowd, but no movement towards my father below. This was normal, and usually after a while, my father would step aside and bring in two fighters. But today, someone stepped out of the crowd and towards him.
“Is that an orc?” My mother gasped.
I leaned forward in excitement, watching my father’s smile grow as the competitor stepped forward. He grinned widely, bowing down before the orc who stepped before him.
“Is he crazy?” My mother shook my arm.
“You know he is.” I could feel my father glee flowing through me. “This is exactly the sort of thing Dad has been waiting for!”
My mother reached forward and grabbed my arm. “That’s what worries me.”
The orc was just as big as he was, maybe bigger. He had long, dark hair, and his tusks were exceptionally large.
“Leopoldine, come sit down.” She tugged on me, trying to pull me back to my seat. “I don’t like how you’re staring!”
I looked back at her with a frown then turned back to the arena. I watched my father approach the orc, extending his hand to him. He and the orc shook, then the orc removed his shirt and tossed them aside. He had tattoos going down his right arm, but I was too far away to see any of their details.
“Don’t stare like that, Leopoldine!” My mother fussed. “It’s unladylike.”
I eased back into my seat, biting my lip as the fight began. My father gained the upper hand, but the orc was putting up a mighty effort. They struggled and fought, seeming to be equally matched. For the longest time it was a game of wills, who could outlast who, and who could trick the other. There came a moment when it seemed my father would win, but it was that moment that caused his defeat. He let his guard down and then the orc had him on the ground.
I jumped up and hollered, cheering for the orc who just became the first ever person to defeat my father.
“Impossible!” My mother stood to her feet in shock.
For my father, it was a celebration as well. He congratulated the orc and shook his hand yet again, putting his arm around him like a brother.
“What is your name, young man?” My father asked him loudly so the whole audience could hear.
“Brevalan,” the orc replied, breathless still from the fight.
My father took his hand and raised it up. “Brevalan the defeater of kings!”
The crowd erupted, but my father was far from over.
My father was grinning from ear to ear. He looked up towards me and my mother, winking at us. I waved back to him, looking back to see if my mother was watching too.
My father hugged the orc then turned back towards the crowd. “Let it be known that this is the man who will marry my daughter!”
My mother fainted where she stood. I stared, placing my hand over my mouth as my father pointed me out in the stands. This was the moment I knew for sure my father was mad.
Once my mother recovered this caused the biggest fight of their marriage to date. My mother was apoplectic, ranting and raving at my father he couldn’t just marry me off to anyone. Let alone at the age I was then. My father was steadfast, saying only someone like that would be worthy enough for me.
Poor Brevalan just sat there, his head down, and his brow firmly set. I felt bad enough for him, so I approached him while my parents fought and everyone else tried to celebrate.
I stood before him, rubbing my hands together as I tried to think of what to say. I forced a laugh. “Apparently we’re engaged. Would you want to go outside?”
He nodded, following me out into the garden.
“How come you decided to fight my dad?” I asked him as he strolled.
Brevalan exhaled.
I turned around to look at him, seeing his face was still set like stone. “Were you hoping for the job?”
His eyes narrowed.
I tilted my head to the side. “Can you talk?”
He nodded.
“But you don’t do it much, I take it.” I shrugged and smiled. “That’s fine. But you probably won’t have to worry. I’m sure my mom won’t let my father get his way with this.” I turned back around and continued walking. “You’ll get a job here for certain and hopefully won’t have to deal with me much at all.”
“Why, what’s wrong with you?”
I glanced back at Brevalan and smiled. “Are you new around here?”
He nodded and twirled a lock of hair around his finger. “I did come with the hopes of being hired on. But I wasn’t aware of why they called your father strange.”
“Well, you’ll be very familiar with it soon.” I looked him over, impressed by his strong physique and big hands. “Hopefully you don’t have a wife and children to explain all this to.”
Brevalan shook his head.
“That’s a relief.” I took a step closer to him. “Then why did you want to get a job here at the palace?”
He tilted his head to the side, letting go of his hair. “I have two younger brothers I am taking care of. I figured if I had a foot in here, then they could join as well when they got older.”
“Are they all big like you?” I asked.
Brevalan arched his brow.
I took hold of his bicep in my hand, squeezing it then adding my other hand as I tried to wrap my grip around it. I could understand why my mother enjoyed doing this to my dad.
“You don’t seem like a knight, but you are built like one. What sort of work do you do, Brevalan?”
“Logging,” he grunted.
I let go of his arm. “Then you know how to handle an axe.” I wagged my finger for him to follow, taking him to the axe throwing rink my father had built.
I picked up two axes and handed one off to him. “Any good?” I whipped around, tossing my axe and hitting the target almost dead center.
Brevalan felt the weight of the axe in his hand before chucking it towards the target, hitting just above mine. “I’ve thrown a few in my day.”
I retrieved the two axes. “I’m sure you have.” I threw both at once, smiling proudly at my aim.
“You’re veering left quite a bit,” Brevalan murmured. He came up behind me, placing his hands on my arms. “Keep straight, don’t bend yourself at the waist, bend at the knee.”
It wasn’t just his comment that surprised me, but it was how close to me he was as well.
I glared up at him and huffed. “My father says I throw like an angel!”
“An angel who veers left, maybe.”
I pulled away from him, fetching the axes and placing them in his hands. “Alright! Then you do it. If your aim is better than mine, then I’ll let you fondle me!”
His brows raised. “You would what?”
“You heard me.” I was so confident he wouldn’t beat me I offered what I thought was the deal of a lifetime. “I’ll even take my blouse off for you.”
Brevalan grimaced.
“What?” I scoffed.
He adjusted the handles in his hands. “I’d rather the bet be more gentlemanly than that, princess. How about I just get to gloat?”
My face was burning hot. “Really? That’s all you want?”
Brevalan moved me aside, taking his aim and throwing the axes. Sure enough, his marks were much better than mine.
“I beat both father and daughter in one night,” he chuckled softly. “How about that?”
I stared at him then broke into a smile. “That almost makes me want to marry you. But I bet I can do better this time.”
“Try not going left for a chance,” Brevalan smirked.
“I bet I could beat you with a sword!” I threw and turned to look at him, seeing he was suppressing a smile. “What?”
Brevalan walked forward, dislodging the axes. “Still going left.”
“I could swordfight you into a corner, and then we’ll see about left!” I laughed.
“I’ve never held a sword before, so I’m sure you could.” He threw one axe, then the other so they were stacked in a perfect line.
I scoffed and rubbed my cheek. “Axe throwing isn’t my specialty anyways. Besides, you’ve probably been holding one since you were a baby.”
Brevalana smirked. “Are you saying you concede?”
The more I looked at him the more I realized his eyes were amber in color and his lashes were exceptionally long. “No. I am saying you are better for now. But if I practice, I bet I can get better than you in no time.”
“I can show you a thing for two.” He fetched the axes again then placed one into my hand. He held both fists around it and moved my arm into position. He was so close, so warm, and I could smell the sweat on his skin. My body grew as warm as my face, and for the first time I understand the twitterpations the ladies in the palace talked about.
“You’ve had a good stance, but I wanted you to adjust your waist. Right here.” Brevalan moved back but he kept his arm on mine. “Now when you pull back, keep your arm straight, don’t curved your wrist around the back of your head.”
“But that looks better,” I muttered.
Brevalana laughed.“Looks fade.”
“Leopoldine!” My mother’s roar kicked me in the head.
“Mom!” I gasped, stepping out from Brevalan’s grasp. “What are you doing here?”
My mother came forward and yanked me away. “You’re going to bed, young lady. And you! My husband is going to have a word with you!” She pointed a very sharp finger at Brevalan. “And good job today!” She still said this with an angry tone.
He bowed his head. “Thank you, your highness.”
She pulled me back towards the palace. “No come along you!”
“Where’s dad?” I gasped.
“Your father is dealing with the consequences of his actions!” My mother was still fuming. Her hair was disheveled, especially in the back. Her dress was also skewed and a part of it looked ripped.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Your father confuses me,” she huffed. “First he says you’re not ready for marriage. Then he offers you up to the first fellow who knocks some sense into him.” She took me into my room and closed the doors.
“He was just excited, that’s all,” I grumbled.
My mother huffed, smoothing down her skirt when she saw herself in the mirror. “Your father stays excited is the problem!” She took out a nightgown and handed it to me. “But not to worry, he’s agreed the engagement was premature. I managed to convince him Brevalan wasn’t properly trained enough.”
“Oh,” I muttered.
She furrowed her brows at me. “What were you doing along with that young man anyways?”
“I figure he was confused! He’s new around here and challenged dad so he could get a job. He didn’t expect me to get involved.”
My mother huffed, taking her hair down and running her fingers through. “You two were awfully close when I happened by.”
My cheeks grew warm again. “He was showing me how to throw better. Apparently my aim goes left.”
My mother turned around from the mirror, a single brow arched at me. “You throw towards the left?”
“I didn’t realize that either! But his aim was so much better than mine. He’s a logger, so he knows a thing or two about axes.”
My father took her fan from her sleeve and hit the top of my head with it. “That doesn’t mean he’s marriage material!”
“That’s not what I said!” I covered the top of my head.
She huffed. “But you sound like your father when he flirts.”
I pouted and looked away.
“Your father is going to put him into training and turn him into a proper knight,” my mother said. “He says he’ll have to beat him once in every field in order to be worthy of you.”
I began to get undressed. “How’d you convince him of that?”
“It wasn’t hard, she said proudly. “Your father enjoys a challenge.”
The next day, I saw Brevalan as I was practicing with my father. He was dressed in the same dark blue tunic as the rest of the knights and was wearing leather cuffs around his wrists and forearms.
I approached him and tugged on his tunic to get his attention. “So, I guess we’re not engaged.”
Brevalan shrugged. “I guess not.”
“What did my father say to you last night?” I asked.
“Only that, to be worthy of his daughter, I couldn’t just rely on my hand to hand combat skills.” He twirled a lock of hair around his finger. “I’m going to have to go through some rigorous training.”
I smirked. “You’re going to have to work hard to catch up then. I’m years ahead of you, and I still haven’t been able to beat my father in everything.”
A smile spread across his face, “He spoke of you as though you had last night. Now that I know that, I’m far less nervous.”
My cheeks heated up again. “He uh-” I rubbed my face. “He said that?”
“I was very impressed,” he chuckled.
“Ah good! You’re together,” my father approached, holding a sword in hand. “Brevalan, my boy, I found you this lovely piece in my storage.” He handed the sword over. “She’s a heavy one! I thought it would work best for you.”
Brevalan bowed his head. “Thank you sir.”
My dad clapped his hand on my back. “What do you think of him, Leo?”
“He’s a decent axe thrower, but I’ll see how he handles a sword before I make any further judgement.”
My father laughed and put his arm around me. “Very good! Now come along, both of you. I’m going to use Leo has your training guide.”
For a few weeks, I trained alongside Brevalan, showing him the ropes along with my father’s instruction. Brevalan was way stronger than me, but I was much faster. And in fighting him I really showed how my mother’s dance training was paying off. I had to use some pretty fancy footwork to get around Brevalan sometimes.
“You’re not so bad,” I told him one day as we rested under the shade of a tree.
He breathed out, lowering down his chin. “Maybe one day I can catch up to you.”
I smiled proudly. “Dad said he’d be willing to find you a battle axe to use.”
“That’s kind of him.” Brevalan looked out into the distance. “He told me he had a friend he wanted me to work under. One of his old masters.”
I furrowed my brow. “Is he bringing him here?”
Brevalan shook his head. “No, he’s sending me out. He says it’ll do me well to travel and learn from the world while I train.”
I moved closer to him. “So you’re leaving?”
“You’re not upset are you?” He chuckled.
“No!” I huffed and turned my head away. “Why would I be? I’m just surprised, that’s all.”
Brevalan chuckled. “Yeah, me too.”
My bottom lip jut out and I steadied my breath before I spoke next. “How long will you be gone?”
“Years, maybe.”
“Oh.” I glanced towards him. “You still won’t catch up to me.”
Brevalan laughed. “Only if you keep veering left.”
I smiled up at him. “When we meet again, I bet I won’t be anymore.”
“I’ll look forward to seeing it.”
We then both got very quiet and a cold wind cut between us. It was the first sign of foul weather ahead.
“I want to work hard,” Brevalan spoke up. “I want to grow strong so that I can serve by your side when you’re queen.”
I looked back at him. “You think I will be?”
He smiled. “I know you will be. That’s why I want to train as hard as I can now. So when the time comes I’ll be worthy to serve under you.”
“You know I’ll be queen, but you don’t think you’ll ever defeat my father again?” I chuckled.
He chuckled, turning back towards me. “I know where to place myself. As long as we’re working together I will be happy.”
I nodded. “Me too.”
I was feeling pretty down when I went home that evening. I had gotten used to training with Brevalan, and considered him a friend. It would feel lonesome without him there. But something was waiting for me when I got home.
“Come sit,” my mother coaxed me. “Your father and I have something to tell you.”
I sighed heavily, expecting them to pop the news that Brevalan was leaving. “Oh yeah? What’s going on?”
My father was beaming from ear to ear. “You’re going to be surprised!”
I’m sure I won’t be, I thought. “Really? What’s going on?”
My mother laid her hand delicately over her belly. “Leopoldine, my darling, you’re going to be a big sister.”
Okay, so I was surprised. “What?” I gasped.
My father jumped up and clapped his hands together. “She did it! Your mother did it! You’re going to train much harder from here on out, Leo!”
I looked to my mother who was smiling peacefully. “Mom! I’m so happy for you!”
“Be happy for all of us.” She held out her hand and pulled me to her side. I hugged her close, but not tight just in case. “It’s a miracle.”
I was close to tears. My mother had always wanted more children, and I thought because of me and my birth, she couldn’t. I buried my face into her hair, relieved she finally got her wish granted.
“Your father and I wanted to be sure before we broke the news to you, but I am already a few months along.” She placed my hand over her belly. “But now, we feel safe telling you that this little one will be coming.”
My hand trembled on her belly. “Do you know what they’ll be?”
“Who cares?” My father cheered. “They exist! They can be whatever they want!”
My mother just smiled. “You can tell he’s excited.”
My father joined us, wrapping us both up in his strong, huge arms. “You’ll be a good sister, won’t you Leo?”
“I’ll try,” I laughed.
“Hopefully, you won’t turn out like my brother and I!” My father said this in jest, but it sunk a dagger into my stomach that rested there the entire evening.
I laid in bed, feeling the dagger twist and turn in my belly. I did the math and realized that I would be the same age as my uncle when my father was born. The dagger twisted more as I thought about all the stories I had been told of my uncle. How he was once kind and sweet with my father, but as he grew older he turned to callus pranks and cold indifference.
“Oh god…what if that happens to me?” I wondered out loud. I then began to worry my father would see this in me, or perhaps he was already considering it.
When my little sibling was born, I would have to be mindful of my behaviour. I wouldn’t turn out like my uncle! I just couldn’t. But what if my dad was already worried about it?
My little brother was born on a very cold, snow covered morning. He had my father’s thick, dark hair, but was so small it worried the physician. He was so tiny he fit in our father’s palm like a toy.
The first time I held him I had never been so terrified of anything in my life. I stared at him, worried he would break in my grasp, worried I would feel hatred for him.
“It’s okay,” my mother sighed. “He’s stronger than he looks.”
“What are you going to name him?” I asked shakily.
My mother smiled. “We’ve been arguing over it for months, but so far we have nothing we can agree upon. What do you think?”
My heart jolted. “Me?”
My mother placed her hand upon mine. “You're his big sister, surely you can think of something.”
I looked at his face one more time. He had the same dark coloring as our father, but he had our mother’s green eyes. He looked the way I wish I looked, swarthy and handsome, Rather than the pale shade I was.
“Bronn,” I murmured.
His face contorted, and I couldn’t tell if he was trying to smile or fart.
“That’s perfect. Little Bronn.” My mother took him into her arms. “Hello, Bronn.”
I realized then I could never hate my little brother, and the bagger slowly released from my gut.
Later that evening, my father stepped out of the bedroom to fetch something to eat. I was sitting at the table, staring across the way outside the window at the snow.
“There she is.” He kissed the top of my head. “Did you get some rest?”
“A little.”
He chuckled. “I can’t sleep. All I want to do is look at that boy. My prince.”
The dagger sunk in again.
He sat down near me and took a bite from my plate. “He’ll be a mighty one. He’s small now, but someday he’ll cast shadows. You may have a worse opponent than me one day.”
What dagger had been removed was now plunged deeper than before. “You think so.”
“I have a gut feeling about these things!” He laughed. “All the more reason to work your hardest, Leopoldine.”
“Did you ever think that about your brother?” I asked.
He sighed, wiping at the corner of his mouth with his thumb. His eyes became distant and his smile waned. “Not once before I left. But when I returned I knew it. Such a shame, he showed such promise before. But people change, Leo. That is the true nature of humanity, no matter how much we try to claw and struggle against it. We all change.”
I looked down at my plate feeling queasy.
“It takes strength to move forward into change.” He turned and looked out the window. “So you don’t need to worry, Leo.”
“I’m not,” I lied.
My father looked at me and smiled. “We’ve got lots of work ahead of us. Will you be ready, Leo.”
I nodded. “Of course.”
He grinned brightly at me. “That’s my girl!”
