1 Chapter one: Lina.

••• (theses dots mean a flashback)

*** (theses dots mean a time skip. Usually will put the amount of time skipped or make it obvious in the first couple of lines)

Bold words mean a different language is being spoken. Non bold words are the main language being spoken (English) the main character cannot understand bold words.

Chapter one:

"What's so interesting..?" I asked mr Smith, he sat next to father with a wide grin that clearly showed the gap between the front of his teeth that could hold a toothpick perfectly— his mouth could be compared as if a horse mouth,  the yellowness from head to toe through his smile.

Father was no better, he leaned to the small round table looking as the laptop screen between the two grown men, the laptop back pressed against mothers vase of roses under a white sheet to the brown rounded table, chairs to match. His glasses barely on the bridge of his nose as he also cracked a smile, with his coffee stain teeth, before quickly shutting the screen to my arrival. "What's so funny..?" I awkwardly said once more, now crossing my arms over my chest in discomfort.

"Ah nothing sweetie...-" father told me, clearing his throat.

"Locker room talk!" Mr Smith called— as my father eyed him not to say another word. I assume mr smiths next line would be something along the lines of 'women wouldn't understand..' so I didn't bother to get an answer out the suspicious men who quickly put on a poker face to my mothers entrance from the front door.

Mother held two bags at her small arms, no taller then I, and with a curious look on her face as she looked at the dining room then me. "Why are you standing, like you just shot a man?" She asked in a faded accent. My father bellowed— standing, his heavy brown boats hitting the wooden floors of our small house.

"While y'all are making a fool of yourselves, the animals would of been feed by now." My mother said looking her husband up and down, sarcasm and firmness came from her pretty soft voice.

Mr Smith snorted in amusement to mothers outburst as he stood from his chair, grabbing his laptop and resting it against the side of his body— his arm keeping it from falling. "Lina, go feed the chickens and mr Smith you better be on your way now.. wouldn't want the wife to worry." My mother told me as my father took the bags from her arms.

"Wives.." father added smirking at mr Smith, if this was an act his nose would of stretched like a branch through his confidence of roping in more then one women. I never understood why this ugly man could do so anyways— it's pretty normal for a man to have more then one wife, the more wives the more fame and riches you have.

Father only has one since he's only a foreigner, everyone from the north marries by 17 and stays with them until death. Our small village, though pretty far for the kingdom still follow the same rules.

Men are along to work by the age of 10, women 12. Men must get the permission of the females parents before dating, marriage, and having children. We are aloud to marry at the age of 23, giving a share of the money between the couple to thank the gods for a happy and healthy life— and so on, those are just the ones I can name at the top of my head.

"Yes, mamma." I said, without question.

"Wouldn't it be better have a boy in the house? You know, for the heavy lifting?" Mr Smith eyebrows raised in question to the two.

The kingdom believes women are made for house work, giving us children, and the care of our animals— if a women can not do one of those things then they are seen as not normal women— the worse case scenario, she can be targeted as a witch with just a wrong report from a man.

"I can lift as well as your old back can, mr Smith. Focus on counting money, sir." I huffed in a glare— mother had quite a hard time with me, giving birth I mean, father doesn't want to see her half dead again. Even if meaning not having a man to help bring more money into the house.

•••

Father groaned, reaching for this back— giving it a hand hit with the side of his fist. "You know, papa, Girls my age should be playing out with friends not covered in mug like boys do." I told my father, twisting my ponytails around my index fingers sitting on top of the old dirty white fence that keeps the pigs in.

My father looks begin him, he stops pouring dinner leftovers into the pigs feelings tray. His rounded eyes squint from the sun behind my back as he gives me a his honest smile— that's what my mother fell for. "You know back in the north, a women was our emperor." He told me and my eyes shot up from looking at my pink dress, now to his face.

"Was she pretty?"

"Prettiest women in the north.. don't tell your mother." He stood up like a old man— sniffing his runny nose before continuing. "Eyes like cold icy waters and hair the color of fresh fallen snow, she was tall, confident." He explained with a firm voice.

Every person who's ruled our lands was a man, yes they did have women next to their sides but they never made any choices— they was like a Jewel protected in a nice big house, with knights but without freedom.

I never want to become like those women. Unable to breathe free air outside, use as a sex tool for a man seeing other women the same age as his daughter. Why would they put themselves in such a bad situation, money? The thought of love? Maybe even safely.

"What I'm trying to say is, even little girls like you with nice fine dresses.. and long hair can do much more then play with dolls." My father said grabbing my waist and putting my over the fence— outside on the grass, he jumped over seconds later.

"I rather play with Micky then have a baby," I told my father— referring to our small miniature horse.

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