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Chapter 109: Hybrid
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A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 110: The Fox and The Crow
“We learned about fables today.” Dmitry squeaks perched on a stool by the cutting block. I sweat profusely stirring sauces and soups on the stove. The mad dash towards dinner. “What is a fable?” I ask. “A story that teaches you something.” He ponders for a moment his answer. A little cherub face deep in thought. “A truth. A lesson for life.” He smiles in satisfaction. “What did the fable you read today teach?” I ask as I pour the soup into the tureen for service. “The first was a story about a fox and a crow.” He begins. “The fox eats the crow and it teaches you to not trust foxes.” I blurt out in response. “No.” He answers flatly. “The—““Crow plucks the fox’s eyes out and you learn that crow’s are a bad omen.” I interrupt. “No. You might be a good cook, but you are a terrible guesser.” He laughs. “Might?” I ask. “How will my ego survive such a blow?” I mockingly ask. “Ok. The fox and crow have a tea party and it teaches you to be friends with everybody.” I say confidently.
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 111: The Seamstress
“You should thank the Goddess for my preparedness!” The Queen’s seamstress says as she measures me and scribbles in her notebook. “Making a wedding gown in three days time is insane enough, but to add so many additional pieces? Unthinkable!” I stand on a pedestal in front of several mirrors. The seamstress has a mess of curls pinned on top of her head. Pencils are skewered through, both functional and practical. Straight pins line the edge of her collar, ready to be plucked and used as needed. The measuring tapes are draped around her neck like loose scarves. I am to have tea with the Queen. From her energy I suspect the Queen will not care how unreasonable the request is, I am to be dressed appropriately no matter what. “I can sew.” I offer. “If you need assistance I can be an extra pair of hands.” The seamstress stops and stares at me in the mirror. “You are to marry a Prince, m’lady. You can do no such thing.” She says kindly. “We have to make at least three gowns for meals plus
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 112: Garden
“You must always have a connection to the earth.” My mother declares. She holds a blackberry cane in her hand. “The bramble provides protection, the berry sustenance, and when you are older, wine.” She giggles. My mother is the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. The sunlight follows her, as if Helios himself uses the golden rays to highlight her beauty. Her golden hair, looking like a crown of gold, regal and elegant. Even now, on her knees in the garden, her face flecked with dirt and sweat, she is ethereal. A painting worthy of display. I hope to have even a drop of her beauty in me. “Planting is a sacred ceremony.” She says. “Yes, mama.” I squeak, my baby voice not yet gone. Before Dmitry was in my mother’s womb. Before my father was gone. Before. “Never take the creation of life for granted.” She says as she holds the crane in her hand. “We call to the Northern Spirit. To the Guardian of the soil and earth. Hear our call!”I giggle. Mama always has strange ways of sayin
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 113: Peppercorns
“What. Are. You. Doing?!” I whisper yell from behind the partition. “Are you trying to get me killed?!” My body shivers and I am unsure if it is from cold or rage. Potentially both. “Come on now, kitten. Don’t come at me with your claws.” Kai drawls. “I only want to play nice.” I peer around the partition, aware of my nakedness. “This isn’t a joke, Kai. I’m to be sealed in the temple to the Prince. If they scent you,” I pause, unwilling to finish the thought. “I will be lucky to be a nun.”“Tell me, do nuns pray on their knees?” He asks coyly. He laughs at his own entendre. “I wasn’t born yesterday.” He retorts. “I know how to mask my scent.”“When exactly were you born, gramps?” I tease. I inhale deeply. It isn’t so clearly detectable. I smell Monica’s scent lingering. Cleaning chemicals. Fabric. Dust. Wood. Peppercorns. The smallest hint of peppercorns. “Your mask isn’t impenetrable.” I say flatly. “Werewolves have superior senses.”“Superior?” He huffs out a laugh in disbelief. “
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 114: Library Tea
Only the wealthy have space for massive libraries. The books themselves are all independently expensive of course, but the real luxury is space. Space to devote solely to storing paper. Building furniture specially and specifically designed to hold books with no other utilitarian purpose. Temples never seem to have a limitation on space. The rooms used to house the priestesses are all modest and small. All other areas are massive. Massive hallways, cavernous sanctuary, and this impressive library. A system of ladders and walkways, quiet reading nooks, study tables with lamps, and where the queen takes her tea. My gown hugs my body perfectly. The dress a simple A line with three quarter length sleeves. The soft fabric is a rich berry purple with blue undertones. Small blackberries, gooseberries, and boysenberries are embroidered along the bottom hem of the dress. Small heels are on my feet. They feel alien to me, I am used to walking on flat feet and prefer to do so. My natural gait,
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 115: The Stag
“You must sit still as a great tree, rooted and observing all around you.” My father whispers as we sit perched in a blind. “Even trees bend to the will of the wind.” I whisper, smiling at my profound thought. He chuckles softly at my bold retort. “You must listen first, my child. Learn the world before you begin to be a critical observer.” “Shouldn’t you also be silent?” I ask with wicked innocence, my youthful smirk revealing the jab. My father grumbles in agreement. In the early morning just as the sun begins to rise, I see only glimpses of his face cloaked in shadows. The glint of his eyes. The whites of his teeth when he flashes a smile. I spot the herd. I pull out my bow and get into position, ready myself to spot my mark. A large doe makes her way into the meadow first. Her timid stare searching for possible danger. “Never take the lead doe. She is the matriarch. The one that keeps this group tethered to one another.” My father murmurs. His voice so low even I strained to
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 116: A Bath
“First, you need to bathe!” Monica scolds. “Where is your lady’s maid?” “I have no maid.” I say plainly. “The baths are down the corridor and I cannot move about freely. If I may go there I am happy to bathe.” I say with a shimmer of shame. Like a caged bird longing for freedom, but always reminded that her beautiful wings have been clipped. “I— I just want you to be perfect for dinner.” She stammers. Embarrassment blooming on her cheeks. “I did not realize you could not leave.” She says barely above a whisper. I look into her eyes. I see the empathy of understanding within them. I offer a small smile. “It’s okay.” I push my smile wider on my face, a small signal of reassurance. “Tell me what you have in mind for dinner this evening on the way?” I ask after a moment of silence. “Of course.” She graciously smiles. We step into the hallway. For a moment I consider running. Just to see how far I can get. I know I cannot escape my destiny. I want to run to feel my mate chase me. To g
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 117: A Gift
Royal meals have a cadence to them. The rhythm and tempo set by the most senior member among them. Filled with tradition and ceremony, some so old the meaning has been lost and only the choreography remains. The King has the feeling of a steady bass drum. The type of rhythm that pushes you forward, unforgiving in its pace and dutiful to its mission. The Queen is his only diversion from keeping the pace of a steady beat. Her attention is never too far removed from her mate, her devotion on display. Her gown the exact same shade of blue as the flourishes stitched into the King’s jacket. If dressing is an art form, the Queen is a master. Her gown and accessories perfectly complement the King. More than a beautiful decoration, she is a perfect match. Her tiara,the same shape as his crown, only smaller. Each element communicates the strength of their bond. My mate is curiously obedient. Sitting tall and stiff. A toy soldier looking to the general for directives. His attention, too, is
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A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 131: Run
It was as if Asteria’s memory played out on a screen in front of me. I’m a captive audience, cordoned off in a far off corner of my mind. Separated from my body but still aware of what is happening. The scene from Theia’s point of view also playing out, oddly disconnected from me, padded feet to forest floor the smell of earth and water. The dirt flecked in her fur and her nose pressed to the earth inhaling its aroma. Asteria’s trauma unfolds before me, almost happening to me, although the screams are not my own. The hunger in his eyes. The manic rage. His whip. My feelings are not entirely my own, it is as if I am Asteria in this experience. “Prince Aares.” I say in a voice that is not my own. A memory of an event I never experienced, yet vividly recall. This isn’t real, yet, I can feel his whip biting and tearing my skin. I can feel the blood snaking down the back of my thighs. The warm ooze somehow soothing the stinging pain. My back flayed open. His scent coats my skin like an
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 130: True Form
“May the Goddess anoint you with her love and bless you with your dreams.” “We give our devotion to the Goddess!” My mate and I reply. The priestesses are all around us. Their voices echoing off the walls of the cave, it’s impossible to tell how many are speaking as the voices echo around us. Our naked bodies only inches away from one another as we stand in the pool, his intoxicating scent masked by the abundance of minerals in the spring. “We ask our Goddess to cleanse you of all your impurities. Remove any malice from your hearts.” The priestesses chant around us. My body feels drawn to him. The urge I have to touch him is overwhelming, to just feel his skin pressed against mine. Any doubts I have floating away the second I am near him. I look ahead to the priestesses. I do not dare look at him in all his glory. One glance at him may be what breaks the dam holding back my urges, my last vestige of control. “Tonight, you are to shift into your true nature. The greatest trea
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 129: Pan
“The Mountain stands, unmoving— never wavering, rooted deeply into the soil.” The Queen begins, seated behind me on a small chair, her gown spilling out of the narrow seat displaying the sheer volume of fabric she seems to carry so effortlessly. Monica is plaiting my hair for the first ceremony. An intricate pattern of different braids joined together and fastened with a plain rag tie matching my temple dress. “The Wind with her sons raging across the lands, charge right at the Great Mountain, but it still stands. The nymphs of the waters try to claw through it, but still it stands. Rigid. Strong. Proud.” Her hands move with the story, in a way it was more akin to a fireside chat rather than dressing room gossip. It reminds me of my father’s stories around the fire. I listen to her tale, knowing little of her people, attentively watching her through the mirrors reflection. “The Goddess herself blessed the Great Mountain, and appointed the Shadow Mountain pack to be the Guardians
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 128: Rigid as the Great Mountain
“Waltz of the Mountains.” The King sneers. “Let’s see how well you keep up.” He casts a glare at Edward. “You know how your Grandmother adores the dance of her homeland, grandson. Do not disappoint her for the sake of your mate.” The warning is clear. “Yes, my King. I would not dream of disappointing.” He bows deeply, his hand on his heart pledging his allegiance. I remember our first meeting. “You play a dangerous game, girl.” He said with his hand around my throat. I suppose I am still that dangerous silly girl, too headstrong to fully submit. Incapable of bending to a tyrant. Incapable of silence. I am who I create. I feel Theia and Asteria in the front of my mind. Any overt display of power would be disastrous, so they lurk, careful not to allow their presence shimmer in my eyes. I deeply curtsy holding my hand to my heart as well, averting my eyes to the floor, not uttering a word. Silence and obedience. That is what the King demands. My stubbornness to blame for not b
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 127: Waltz
Silence. I dare not speak or move. “I have heard you can dance.” The King says in my direction. A small smile creeped on his lips. A sneer. “Yes, your majesty.” I say meekly. “You shall dance for us.” Edward looks at me with sadness in his eyes. A shimmer of anger rippling in his fields of green, at my faux pas. The weight of the King’s displeasure not only hitting me, but crushing him as well. Collateral damage. “I would love to see the waltz.” The Queen hums. “Edward can lead her if she does not know it. Besides, she will be expected to dance at their wedding celebrations.” I hope he indulges his wife. It is a far better option than being forced to gyrate in front of the King. His expression leads me to believe he wishes to not only remind me of my place but humiliate me in the process. The Queen’s suggestion is only her tossing a rope to her grandson to save him from the front row seat to my humiliation. The King looks to his Queen. “Very well.” He replies. “L
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 126: Fairytales
Fairytales have a modicum of truth to them. Just enough truth that the reader can absorb the message, learn whatever moral imperative is being taught. The tricky part is discerning what little bit is rooted in truth, and what is an outright lie, a fantasy embellishment to keep you reading. I prefer the stories with happy endings, lessons are still learned, but the main character in the end is well and fine. Perhaps that’s my first mistake, assuming my placement in the tale is the main character, rather than the abused maid or gullible villager, or otherwise nameless background character. A person in the crowd as the King strolls down the street naked. A lady’s maid to the wicked queen or damsel in distress. A nameless cousin to the main character, who tried on the shoe but it did not fit. Perhaps I am the main character, in one of those tales where she tragically dies. Her choices and bad decisions leading her to death, rather than the happiness she was seeking. The Queen seem
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 125: The Bluebird
“Beauty is pain.” Monica consoles. “You cannot achieve divinity without sacrifice. We want ethereal. We want glamor.” “We want to be able to have dinner.” I squeak, the corset of the gown so tight I can barely breathe. “Or maybe just be able to breathe.” I have been trying on gowns for hours. I tire of looking at my reflection. “Long deep breaths from the lungs, not the belly.” She demonstrates, her body rod straight, long measured breaths expanding her ribcage. My wedding gown, gowns for tea and dinner, dresses for travel and leisure, for breakfast or prayer— the stacks of fabric seem endless. I was nothing more than a doll. Monica has the same persistence as Agatha. I remember her wrapping me in endless fabrics for my Moon Ceremony gown. “You will be elegant! Ravishing! Demure!” She shouted as she wrapped me in satins and tulle. “Posture is key. Beyond that, relax. High anxiety breathing isn’t very effective or attractive.” Monica concludes. I smile, my mind wander
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 124: Orchard
Something in my soul longs for the sunshine. The rays on my skin make me come alive. My internal battery dependent upon feeling the sun against my skin. I do not recall the last time I was outside in the sun. It seems a lifetime ago that I was able to truly enjoy it. My gown manifesting what I need the most, time to bask in the sun. I can feel the whispers of winter on the autumn wind. A small chill dancing in the breeze, winter days soon to come. I stare upwards to the sky. The sun’s rays like golden spires piercing through the clouds, a magnificent sight. The sun coyly peeks from behind the clouds to bathe me in its rays. Today, I am the sun, and I will absorb the warmth and joy it brings me. Monica stops in front of a small gate created between two apple trees. The trees already bare from harvest, the priestesses and acolytes have started the pruning process, preparing the orchard for winter. The branches and stems are neatly stacked in piles along the treeline. My ow
A Daughter’s Revenge Chapter 123: The Sun Incarnate
The material is a diaphanous gauzy gold, a Grecian peplos, the fabric expertly draped on the body. A hint of silhouette peeking through the multiple layers and folds of fabric, my feminine form exposed through gauzy golden haze. I am the sun incarnate. Even my tiny golden bracelet glints in the light, highlighted by the gown's golden glow. My ring proudly displayed on my finger. Monica has dusted my eyelids with a golden shimmer and painted my lips a soft pink. I look upon myself in the mirror. The long elegant gown perfectly compliments my shape. Long gone is the young girl dreaming of her escape, replaced in the mirror with an elegant woman, soon to be a married woman. A princess. A future Queen. The gown strikes me as familiar but I am unable to place it. I feel an overwhelming sense of déjà vu. “You look divine!” Monica squeals. “You are the artist, I’m just the canvas.” I respond softly. I stare into the mirror in awe of her art. I don’t even recognize myself in the reflectio
