Chapter 1: Where do I go Now?

It was raining outside, a quiet serenity in the meadow of my thoughts.

My fingers ran through my mess of lavender soft curls, getting tangled in the delicate ribbons and trinkets Mistress Haze had put in earlier this afternoon. Knowing her, she'll have a big fuss over the loss of perfection, but I did not mind. My curls became lost to the bun and flowed freely down to my waist. The trinkets still in place as well as the tied ribbons, giving a lovely look to my hair.

My body was my temple and I was supposed to treat it as such. All the golden trinkets and black and gray ribbons took away from my natural beauty. Disguising it with soft and feather like kisses, taking away from my tough exterior. Mother Dearest, would have a stroke if she saw me dressed up like this-as If a porcelain doll. Father would be in for a treat though, his only daughter dressed like a woman? The heavens must of heard his prayers.

My colleagues and countless older brother's would also be in a daze of amazement. I rarely wore dresses or had my hair styled in such a manner. Most days, my clothing consisted of tight leather pants with buckles and belts wrapped tightly around my thighs. A dark shoulder-less long sleeved blouse, where the sleeves would tie around my middle fingers on both hands. A tight leather jacket and combat boots would finish my look. My necklaces would be hidden underneath my shirt and my family name stitched onto the length of both my shirt and jacket. My hair tightly tied up into a high pony tail with some strands in braids and others loose and flowing.

———

Waiting has always been my specialty since I was a child-patiently observing what goes on around me. Father had always claimed me to be his most obedient child and was proud of my achievements, but that was his way of trying to keep my favor of him good. Father did not like that I was of warrior status and class. I could not help that my true nature was that of a warrior, a general of the nations fleet, not that of a pretty princess. I was neither this gentle young woman, but neither was I some emotionless warrior as many have depicted me in the daily news. I suppose you could say, I'm just somewhere lost in the middle ground. I had been sent to reform school as well as an all girl school of the highest education in hopes to change my masculine traits (as Father would call them). Though passing with high merits, Father could not see past my motivation.

To Father, I was supposed to be a delicate blooming flower ready for the taking. But I was no soft and elegant flower, I was a woman of complexity. Another thing that greatly bothered my Father, was the fact that not only was I a good fighter, but I was indeed far better than quite a few of my brothers. Father did not like the fact that I spent more time training and studying versus attending things of girly nature. Though I excelled in those subjects as well, Father still was not impressed with my behavior.

——

The signal I was waiting for had finally gone off-the fireworks shooting into the dark sky. Colors beyond my understanding fired creating shapes and symbols enthralling me for a bit of time. The nervousness that I had disposed of earlier this morning came back full force. There was nothing else I can do besides stand up and pat down my gown. Waiting patiently for the door to swing open I walked towards the full length mirror to look at myself once more.

My right eye a light blue shade and my left eye an ever green glade, surrounded by dark and long luscious eyelashes, pink and full lips, blushing cheeks of rose, a small face and a small straight nose, pale complexion with a dust of freckles. I was short and small, but a figure of an hourglass, tightly bounded to a skin tight dress that exposed my large breasts. Mother had chosen this dress specifically for my short stature but as well as my womanly figure. The tight bodice exaggerated my small waist that curved out into large hips. The dark graying colored dress sewed with an array of purple flowers into the short gown that reached above my knees, gave an illusion of sweetness. The dress tight around my breast and stomach, pooped out once it reached my waist. The light gray tights had embellishments of sewed in purple flowers and vines connecting them to one another. The boots I wore went up my shapely legs stopping at the calves. A glossy black combat boot with tightly tied knots and trinkets of gold wrapped around as designs, which glorified my status as well as my family name. Long nails painted black with small flowers painted purple on each nail, delicately framing a design of love. My gown had the same designs on the bodice of the gown as well as the shoulders of the dress. Then the final touch that every fair and young maiden must abide by: jewelry. My ears pierced with golden buds and hoops on the cartilage. The necklace that tightly wrapped around my neck had a golden hue with specks of diamonds when caught by light. The necklace also had a blooming flower attached to the middle of it, that resided sweetly between my breast. My fingers as well had golden rings framing them with honor.

Within a few minutes I would meet the man I'm arranged to be married to. Phoenix Ray De Castro, the King of the Northern Tribe, otherwise known as the scoundrel whose been a thorn in my behind for the last five years. May this night end with me not strangling the bastard or him sending me off to be beheaded. This is going to be a very long night.

———

The serenity of my bedroom was interrupted by a soft knock. Stepping away from the bed, I leave behind my soft gray and blue bedroom. My book cove decorated with dark polished wood shelves filled to the brim with all genres of literature, soft textures of fur rugs snug tightly creating a loving warmth once your toes touched it, and the arm chairs that curled around the fireplace. I gracefully moved towards the door, knowing I could no longer hide from the evening.

"Amandine, it's time..." spoke Mistress Haze as she took a small step into my room. Dressed in a elegant gown that reached to the floor and trailed some behind her. A light green color that complimented her beautiful gray eyes and hair. Mistress Haze was in her older years, reaching almost eighty by next month, but even then the young and fruitful woman was still as young as ever. Her body, just a mere cage, nothing more, and nothing less. Mistress Haze would always say that though her winters were adding up and her suns were setting, she was still as young as she was fifty years ago.

I love Mistress Haze as a daughter loves her mother. She was and will always be the woman I consider to be my first mother, for she has always been there for me. Moreover than either of my parents. Mistress Haze was my nursemaid the moment I popped out of my Dearest Mother's womb.

I nod softly to Mistress Haze, obediently following her out of my sanctuary.