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Chapter 7
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2024-10-29 19:42:56“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?”
My father smiled slowly at the memory of my mother in battle, though it soon faded as he began to speak; his tone low and yet, stern. “Your mother came from a family who raised their children into war, females or not. I do not want that life for you my daughter; I do not want you to witness all that I have.”
“Father it is my choice, I want to train; to be a part of the thing that keeps our kingdom safe and free of pillagers. I want to aid you and our armies, not sit back and watch while the men fight.” I crossed my arms suddenly, sharpening my tone with each word as my eyes blazed with determination.
“Sanctus, I will not allow you to be become involved in our war. No matter what you attempt to say in order to convince me. Do you understand?” He questioned, glancing towards Derrick who had remained silent; keeping his views all but hidden.
I turned to glance back at my guardian, knowing that he shared the same views as my father; though how could I accept that this was the end of the conversation? That I would never do what I could to protect the people as my brothers did? No, I simple couldn’t become what my sisters had; I couldn’t shame nor dishonour my mother’s memory as they always had with their feminine views. Strolling around the castle as though they deserved everything they had without giving anything in return, nor caring for who they injured to get what they wished. I wanted more than that, more than the binds of my gender would permit me, I wanted to fight.
Continuing to argue against my better judgement I turned back to glare up at my father, his towering mass looming over my petite frame; showing that I was truly a child. I forced my tone to appear strong and willing, increasing the pitch of my tone as I voiced my own views with strength. “No father, I will fight; with or without your consent.”
“Enough!” He bellowed, slamming his fist into one of the nearby pillars as his anger rose; reaching dangerous limits.
I jumped, recoiling back at my father’s sudden outburst; my heart thumping recklessly against my ribcage. I turned my head away from him with the same swift movement, tears defiantly slipping down my cheeks. It was a strange thing to witness my father angry with anyone other than the council, but it also sent terror rippling through my mind; disguising all that was good in him for only a moment as his fist connected with the pillar, cracking the heavy stone. My eyes burned as tears continued to spill from my eyes, each breath seeming harsh and sorrowful whilst my shoulder trembled.
Why could he not see it from where I stood? – I questioned myself hesitantly, shakily wiping the tears from my eyes – not understand that I wanted more than this life; that I wanted to fight?
I flinched when he placed a hand on my shoulder, gently pulling me into his arms as I sobbed; his tone now once again soft and loving. “Calm yourself daughter, I will not harm you.”
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Sanctus. It appears to be amazingly simple as it slips from your tongue, when you voice the letters and form a word, and yet, it was much more than that, each letter forming a story. A life. It was a name, one that screamed with promise, with a bright and prosperous future. It was my name, the one that I was given on the day of my birth, a name fit for someone of my standing; one that radiated elegance. My father, the king had chosen it from many others; from thousands of possibilities that loomed. Though I scarcely think of what I could have been called and smile upon the one he had chosen, the one he believed suited his youngest child; that fit his daughter like a saddle on a horse. In the old tongue of our language, the word directly translated into ‘pure’ someone who believes in doing no wrong, a person that will do anything to avoid injuring another. I smiled at the thought, but my heart sank, my name would always mean pure. But I would not remain that way forever,
