The Queen Of Eternity

My father hates me

"That's what's the fucking problem with you! You're not fit to be a king. Hell, you're not even fit to be a goddamn person."

I don't know why I bother trying to talk sense into this man.

Either way, I needed to come back to the palace. I need soldiers.

"Watch your mouth."

All I said, was maybe, maybe atleast try to find Azrael's sister. What if she isn't actually dead?

He takes a step forward.

"Or what? You'll hit me? C'mon Father let's see what you got."

I speak words of bravery yet take a step back.

In the blink of an eye, his palm meets the skin of my cheek and a familiar burning sensation spreads out on the left side of my face.

        He turns his back towards me and starts walking back to his bedroom.

I feel some of the guards in the hallways stare at me. Sympathy, I suppose.

But when I look at them, they look everywhere but at me.

"Yeah, walk away. We all know who'll you come crawling back to the second you need something done." I spit the words out.

He opens a drawer and before I realise what happened. The sound of a gun being shot.

At first, I feel nothing. Then my arm starts to burn and the sleeve of my white jacket turns red.

"Your majesty! That is your daughter." Fluer exclaims before rushing to my side, tearing apart a piece of her skirt and wrapping that around my arm.

Sadly, I've felt worse pain so this doesn't affect me as much as it should.

"Relax. Bullet didn't go in. It's just a scratch. Tell her to remember who she's talking to or it'll be worse than that."

He walks away and Fluer leads me away from the halls and into my room.

"Are you okay?" She asks once I've sat on my bed.

I nod in reply and point towards my collection of band-aids and Azrael's collection of first-aid kits.

I need those a lot.

We came back form the 'headquarters' yesterday. To think things through

I am still not sure if I should go back or not.

She unwraps the piece of cloth that was tied around my bicep and helps me take of my jacket.

I watch her as she dabs a blue liquid onto a cotton pad.

"I watched Azrael put this on injured soldiers."

The cotton pad is pressed against my skin and a whimper escapes my mouth.

"I am so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's okay, Fleur. It's not your fault."

I bite my lip to stop myself from making any further noise because everytime I do,  this girl starts apologising as if she's the one who shot me.

While bandaging my arm she clears her throat and says, "I...well, before you got— y'know. Shot. I wanted to tell you that you look really beautiful today. I mean, you look beautiful every day but yeah...you get it."

I smile at her and surprisingly, she meets my eyes for just a second.

"Thank you, Fleur. That's really sweet. You look very pretty too."

She lets out a soft giggle before tucking her hair behind her ears.

The door slams open and Azrael enters.

"What did that moent r  do now?" He demands.

I point to my arm and Fleur gets up and scrambles away from me.

He sits down in Fleur's previous spot and looks at my arm for a solid few minutes.

"It's just a scratch. I've dealt with worse."

"Scratch, yes. But still a bullet. How long are you gonna live like this? I think you should—"

He stops when he remembers we're not alone.

"It's okay. She's fine," I tell him.

"Right. Uh... I think we should take your mother's offer. Leave this place. Go to the new Headquarters or whatever you're calling it."

"I need to think about it, doc. It's my mother. You can never, ever trust someone with my blood."

"I trust you."

"Big mistake."

°°°

Monthly patrols have to be shittiest thing ever.

Children running away at the sight of me and families of the former rebels looking at me like I ruined their lives. But let's be honest, I did.

Except today.

Today is a festival.

They call it the Day of Light.

They pray to the goddess of light AKA my mother. They hope for her return and they hope to saved.

It happens every month. It's not allowed but I never report anything. None of the guards or soldiers do. They pray too.

"Are you the princess?" A small voice asks as I walk around the block.

I turn around to see a little girl in pigtails and a puffy pink dress. She looks like cotton candy.

"Yeah. How can I help you?"

"My daddy's angry again. And mommy used to say the princess will always help you."

I squat down so I can be of her height and ask, "What do you mean sweetie?"

"You know my Mom. Cassandra Adams."

Fuck.

She was one of my best warriors. And one of my closest friends.

"Yeah. Yeah, I know her."

"After she became a star. My daddy started not coming home. He'd drink from weird looking bottles and would get mad. He'd throw stuff. He broke my art project."

My eyes soften in relatable sympathy.

"I am so sorry. What can I do to help?"

"I am hungry."

I pick her up in my arms and walk over to a nearby falafel stand.

"Do you want these?"

She nods a yes. I ask the shopkeeper to give me two falafels. I give both of them to her.

We sit down on a bench and she leans her head on my arm. Right below my wound.

"Does your daddy get angry?"

"Yeah, sweetie. Sometimes."

"I miss my Mom. Can I hug you?"

I grin at her and nod. She stands up on her little feet and wraps her arms around my shoulders.

My shoulders droop down and I relax my face.

I did not know how much I needed this.

"Cara?" Someone yells and the little girl beside me gasps and tried to hide behind me.

"Is that your father?"

"Yeah," She says in a shaky voice and I notice the bruises on her arms.

Anger takes control of me.

"Show me."

She points to a drunken man who looks a lot like someone my father would be friends with.

Before my mind can stop me, my fist meets his nose.

"Hey, what the fuck?" He yells, grabbing his nose.

"How the hell do you hit a little girl?" My knee hits his crotch.

"I am her fath—"

"No, the fuck you're not."