Last Good Bye

The south wing, where the walls were thickest and the grounds most protected, was where King Peter resided when all his duties for the day were fulfilled.

A piece of the castle where comfort and whatever a man might want was prepared.

Apparent from the lovely blue rug that stretched for as long as marble floors laid, the walls painted and smooth to the touch, where the heraldic banners of the five strongest kingdoms hung one after the other, and soldiers stood like statues.

Viella walked as if it was her right to be there.

It was a little trick she learned when she was young. If people saw she was confident, they'd believe it too—that she was where she was supposed to be.

But today, the same trick did not work with the first guard who stood by the entrance of the south wing.

"Hey!" he said with an authoritative tone.

Viella turned around, facing the soldier who called on her.

She stood still, displaying her willingness to comply. "Yes, sir?"

"You're the disgraced princess!" the soldier exclaimed once he took a good look at her.

She was still in rags, and if it was not for who she was, they would have thrown her out.

"What are you doing here!? State your business!" he said, lifting his spear so that its sharp end was pointing at her.

"I need to speak to my father!" Viella explained, refusing to step back.

"I didn't receive any notice that the King is expecting you," he said, lowering the end of his spear. "I don't think he'll be happy if you come uninvited."

"No, I suppose not, but I need to speak to him. Please," Viella pleaded. "I need to tell him something important, otherwise I wouldn't be here."

The soldier looked hesitant still. After hearing her words, he sighed and relented. "Alright, come. I will escort you there," he said.

It was strange how Viella had spent her whole life in this palace, and she had never set foot in her father's wing.

She followed the soldier in silence, but she couldn't help but look around curiously, taken by the luxury that was not displayed so boldly in the other areas of the palace.

All of this, and still people spoke of the frugal king who spent more on his people than himself.

"We're here. I'll go in and let His Majesty know you'll be coming," the soldier said once they reached an arching double door, painted in a vibrant blue color, one of the most expensive and difficult colors to obtain.

Its edges were engraved with beautiful little flowers filled with gold. This door alone could buy fifty slaves. How can people say he's frugal? Viella thought, eyeing the masterpiece that was before her.

The soldier stepped out. "His Majesty wasn't informed that you'd be coming to visit him, so he won't get ready to greet you. But if you insist, you can go and speak to him."

The soldier then stepped aside to let her in, already knowing what her answer would be.

Viella thanked him, then stepped inside, shocked to see a large, beautiful room divided into sections by beautiful decorative fabrics.

On each side of her were elevated floors where beds were made with large, lush pillows and a low table serving wine, fruits, meat, and cheese.

The space was illuminated by small candles here and there, just enough to see and illuminate the curves of the women inside.

Viella froze at the sight of all the women inside.

Their skin bare and glistening from a healthy layer of olive oil.

Right in front of her, on his throne of pillows and silk, was her father, half-naked.

Four women sat with him, two on each side, bare as a newborn baby.

Their breasts were bare, offering a view of their full roundness and down to the nether part where they had shaved it clean.

They fed him small pieces of cut steak and grapes, while one poured wine and another rubbed his shoulder.

Ashamed but determined, Viella walked past the looking eyes of the women there. Their gaze followed her with curiosity as their conversations hushed.

"My daughter," King Peter said, a faint smile on his face. Not the slightest bothered or ashamed she was wearing rags.

"For years I've rarely seen you, not even your back. And now, within a week, I can't rid myself of you," he said.

"My Majesty," Viella greeted him in return, "what if I told My Majesty, My Majesty never has to see me again? Then I'll never bother you again with my face," she said, her eyes looking down, fearing she might see any more of the indecency around her.

"And where will you go?" King Peter said.

"To another realm. I wish to look for my fiancé and be with him," Viella explained, keeping the part where she'd be going to ask him to properly break the spell and set her free once and for all.

She was done being a servant or a pawn to someone else's plans.

King Peter leaned back, then waved away all the women who seemed to have enjoyed themselves.

Viella could feel their eyes on her as they walked past.

She could finally look up, facing her father, who tightened his robes.

"Many things have changed ever since you've turned eighteen, and it's only been two days," he started.

"I was always under the impression that Raden would be the one to marry you. And then all of a sudden, you were engaged to a dead man. You turned into a monster, and then now… this… you'll be leaving to a realm you might never return from," King Peter said contemplatively while he looked at the cup in his hand.

"Do you want me to return?" Viella asked when she thought he was thinking too long.

"No. I don't really care whether you'll come back or not. But before you go, I need you to know, that I did my best not to care about you. Yet, in the end, I can't help but see you as my daughter," he said, finishing his cup then.

Viella felt her face fall with disappointment.

She always knew her father did not care or love her, but hearing him say that still felt like a stab to her heart.

She was an unwanted motherless child, and it left a deep hole inside her.

"Is it because you think I killed my mother?" Viella dared to ask. She knew she would never have this chance again, and if she did not ask, she might regret it.

"No. I was glad she died during childbirth. I just couldn't say that out loud," King Peter said with indifference, unaware—or perhaps uncaring—of how much it had stung her.

Viella had lived her whole life thinking he hated her because of what she did to her mother. Now, she was just breaking all over again.

"I thought you loved my mother," Viella said with a weak voice.

"I never loved her. She was a means to an end. If I did not marry her, her father would have refused to join forces to defeat the Mordaths," King Peter explained, his gaze wandering to a time only he remembered.

"After we joined forces, the kingdoms became one as well. Your grandfather died in battle, and your uncle died of a disease. And then your mother died giving birth to you. Raden asked for my firstborn, so that's you, an easy giveaway for considerable protection. Truly, your blood is a blessing, Viella."

Viella bit her tongue, realizing this man had never once held any sentimental feelings toward her or her mother.

He never hated her; he just never loved her to begin with. And it had given her a new sensation of pain.

Anger.

"I'll be leaving tonight. I think… this is goodbye, Father," Viella said, looking up at the man she always yearned for attention, love, and care. Something he never cared enough to give her, and now she knew why.

"It seems so. But I can't let you go without at least bringing something with you," King Peter said, then rang a bell for someone, who came almost immediately.

"Benjamine, bring me a piece of paper, pen, and stamp," he said.

Viella waited patiently as he wrote something down on the paper, folded it, and then gave it to her.

She took it in silence, bowing as a form of gratitude. And then, without another word, King Peter waved her away, calling back the four women he had sent away before.

She turned around, and then left her father, feeling as if an old page she refused to end was finally closing. Now, as she stepped out of the room, she followed the soldier who led her out of the wing, then walked out of the palace without looking at anyone.

This was the last time she would ever set foot in this palace, this kingdom, this realm.

With that thought, she didn't even look back.

Viella opened the piece of paper in her hand and saw in it an order to grant her whatever financial aid she needed.

All she needed was her own stamp, which she did not have.

"Not to worry," Viella told herself.

She could always ask Raden to lend her his.