Ten years ago, I sat on the floor eating a candy that was really, really sweet. That day was the last time I would see my mom, taken away from my home.
A knock at the door made me jump to my feet and run to the door. Normally I would have waited for my mom to answer the door, I didn't this time. I opened the door to find a tall scraggly man.
You're not my grandfather, I thought to myself as my mom rounded the corner coming from the kitchen. When she saw the man she grabbed me and pulled me behind her. "Why are you here?!"
"Oh Melanie, don't ask such silly questions. I'm here for my daughter," he said to look at me with cold eyes. "Or do I have to take her by force?"
"You will not touch her!" Mom said, a hint of anger in her voice. "She's all I have left," She said sadly.
"Fine, I'll use force," the man said, grabbing the hilt of the sword at his waist, I had not realized it was there. He looked at her then pulled it out of its sheath. With no warning he stabbed Mom. I ran out from behind her as she fell to the floor in a
heap, blood pooling under her as the cut in her abdomen gushed blood.
I ran to my mom's side, letting out a sob when I saw she wasn't breathing. I grabbed her in a tight hug and I stood glaring at the man, still crying. He said darkly and with no emotion, "what's your name, child?"
"Athena," I said, staring at him, "my name is Athena. Where are you going to take me?"
"To the world of fae," he said bluntly, like it was obvious.
"Athena. . . Athena. . ." A voice called from behind me, my eyes started to become blurred. Then everything became dark.
That day I made a vow to hate this man as long as he lived, even if I could not do anything about it at the time.
Ten years later, I woke with a start and glared at the person who woke me up but no one was there. I stood up walking to the window, once I saw the light was beginning to fade into late evening, I heard a knock at my bedroom door. "Miss? Are you awake?" The maid on the other side asked.
"Yes," I say loud enough to be heard through the door.
"Do you want help dressing?" she asks, opening the door to my room.
"Yes please," I say, turning to her, "My hair must be a mess."
My personal maid, Beika, stood in the doorway with a tray in her hands. Beika is a small woman with pointed ears and curved horns like a ram. The tray contained a bowl of wellwish berries, nuts, and a cup of hot tea.
"Please sit, Miss," she said, walking to the vanity and grabbed a silver comb and ran it through my tangled mess of black hair. I took a small sip from my tea, and the warm tingles through my body. I felt the slight tug of my hair being braided into a crown on top of my head.
"You don't usually braid my hair." I point out.
Beika shook her head. "It's The Day of the Flower, remember?" She pushed the last pin through a thick, heavy plait and stood up. With a quick pull, the doors to my closet opened and she took two dresses out. The first was a knee length blue fading into green with birds in gold embroidering. The second was red flaring out and splitting in multiple places to look like rose petals and laces in the back, so it showed my back.
I took the two hangers from her and held them up against my full-body mirror. I surveyed myself.
It was hard to imagine myself in either of them. They were both such a departure from my usual tunics and pants. I hang the first one up. I throw on the dress and (unsuccessfully) try to dodge Beika's attempts to put on any makeup.
I looked in the mirror and gasped. This can't be me! Can it? I just stare at myself, and I turn around to find the back of the dress quite revealing.
"Who is that?" Beika asks teasingly and melodramatically gasps. It's as if she was reading my thoughts.
I shrugged. "Beats me." I respond, finally snapping out of my daze.
"We should get going." she tells me.
The two of us stepped out of the estate and into a carefully polished carriage that had been waiting for us. We settled into the carriage and began the ride in silence.
I soon fell asleep and soon after Beika wakes me up and says, "Get up, Miss. We're almost there," with a firm shake to my shoulder.
"Okay, okay," I grumble.
The carriage rolled to a sudden stop, and I see students streaming into the east wing of the palace, which was decorated with a Happy Day of the Flower! banner made out of flowers. Gingerly, I stepped out of the carriage and waved goodbye. "Well, well, well. Look what the cat dragged in," a male voice says.