Father And Daughter

With a dismissive toss of her hair, Princess Amelia rose to her feet, a defiant glint in her eyes. "Hmph, I'm fine!" she declared, her tone resolute. "Why was the alarm rung? My friend and Bard were simply having a spar," she added, her words tinged with irritation as she began to walk away.

Her unknown brother reached out, his hand coming to rest gently on her shoulder, halting her in her tracks. "Even if you're not in immediate danger, the fact remains that the alarm was triggered. According to protocol, I must escort you back to the castle," he explained with a firmness that brooked no argument.

With a resigned sigh, Princess Amelia acquiesced, knowing that her brother's words held the weight of duty and authority. Together, they vanished from the forest clearing, reappearing in a lavishly adorned room within the confines of the castle.

As the alarm reverberated throughout the kingdom, a flurry of activity ensued. Gate doors were swiftly locked, and millions of personnel were mobilized, prepared for the worst-case scenario. Weapons of mass destruction stood at the ready. Yet, despite the ominous preparations, the feared threat was nowhere to be found.

Instead, the influx of additional manpower proved instrumental in resolving the immigrant situation that had sparked the initial chaos. Through coordinated efforts and diligent work, order was restored, and a sense of peace once again descended upon the city.

Meanwhile, within the confines of the room where Princess Amelia and her brother were sequestered, the atmosphere crackled with tension.

"I am perfectly fine now! Tsk, you're so serious," Princess Amelia remarked with a hint of exasperation, her tone betraying her impatience as she reclined in a luxurious golden chair.

Nevertheless, the hours stretched into a day as they remained confined to the room, awaiting confirmation that the threat had passed and that Princess Amelia's safety was no longer in jeopardy. With each passing moment, the tension slowly eased, replaced by a cautious optimism as news arrived that the situation had stabilized and the kingdom could breathe a collective sigh of relief.

Upon release, she was directly ordered to go to the King's office.

Princess Amelia strode through the majestic corridors of the castle, her presence commanding the attention of the countless knights stationed throughout its grand halls. As she passed by, she couldn't help but feel a surge of annoyance at the lustful gazes that seemed to follow her every move.

"Disgusting pigs! Only 'he' does not stare at my body but only my eyes," she seethed inwardly, her anger simmering just beneath the surface as she pressed on.

Finally reaching the imposing door to the King's office, she sighed before pushing it open, the heavy oak swinging wide to admit her.

As Princess Amelia entered the King's office, she was met with the sight of a young man, seemingly in his mid-twenties, seated behind a beautifully carved wooden table adorned with black obsidian. His blonde hair framed his face, but his expression was one of deep concern.

"My daughter..." he began, his voice heavy with worry, but before he could continue, his demeanor shifted dramatically. "Kneel!" he commanded, his tone loud and authoritative, and with his words, the surrounding air shook with an ominous energy.

Amelia found herself compelled to obey, unable to resist the overwhelming force pressing down upon her. She knelt before her father, unable to even lift her head as the power of his spell held her in place.

The king rose from his seat and went in front of the table, his movements deliberate as he settled into the chair before crossing his legs. "You wasted so much capital for the rescue mission. How will you pay?" he demanded, his voice laced with a hint of menace as the force of his spell intensified.

"It's your fault!" Amelia screamed, her words laced with defiance even as she struggled against the crushing pressure of her father's magic. "How could I have been born from you! You lowly old cowardly wrinkly man!" she spat, pushing her head up in a futile attempt to meet his gaze.

The king's face drooped, replaced by a intense anger as he clenched his jaw, veins popping out on his forehead. With a silent gesture, he increased the power of his spell, and immediately, the ground below them began to crack, the entire room shaking violently. Papers flew around in a chaotic whirlwind, and Amelia found herself lying on her stomach, paralyzed and unable to move as the overwhelming force of her father's magic held her captive.

Suddenly, as if a veil had been lifted, the oppressive energy binding Princess Amelia dissipated, freeing her from its suffocating grip. With a deep sigh, the young king settled back into his ornate chair behind the imposing desk that dominated the room. He regarded his daughter with a mixture of frustration and curiosity.

"My spoiled daughter," he began, his voice tinged with authority, "I'll offer you two choices. Who is responsible for defeating your personal guard, Bard? Either you provide me with that information, or I'll extract it from your brain, ending your little life."

Princess Amelia rose gracefully from her knelled position, brushing nonexistent wrinkles from her skirts with a casual flick of her hand. Clicking her tongue in annoyance, she met her father's gaze head-on. "I do not know his name!" she retorted defiantly.

The king's patience wore thin as he shot up from his chair, his palms crashing down on the polished surface of the desk with a resounding thud. "Do not lie to me!" he warned, his voice heavy with authority.

With an insolent toss of her head, the princess pivoted on her heel, her demeanor dripping with disdain. "The only detail I can offer is that he possesses long, black hair," she declared haughtily, her attitude clear as she made her way toward the door. "Hmph. Good day."

Frustration boiled within the king as he watched his daughter's retreating figure, his plans for gathering crucial information crumbling before his eyes. "Once I uncover his identity, his demise will be swift," he vowed angrily, his fists clenched in frustration.

But before the princess could make her exit, she spun on her heel, a newfound determination gleaming in her eyes. With a swift stride, she approached the desk once more, leaning in with a sense of urgency. "Do not lay a finger on him! He is a husband candidate!" she asserted, her spoiled tone momentarily giving way to genuine concern. "And besides, I don't wish harm upon you, despite you being terrible as a father."

The king's temper flared at her defiance, his pride wounded by her insinuations. "Me, harmed?! No man beneath God's heaven is better than me!" he boasted, his voice ringing with arrogance as he forcefully propelled his daughter toward the exit with a gust of wind.

With an indignant yelp, Princess Amelia collided with the door, her momentum carrying her out of the king's chamber and into the corridor beyond.

...

"What's this little shit?" Fero mused, bending down and poking it to inspect the small creature lying in the dirt of the forest floor.