Hannah Norwick. That was the name my parents gave me.
"Mommy, look! Uncle wants me to be his daughter and said he will give you a lot of gold!" I told my parents without thinking much, obsessing about the small details.
My mom looked furious, "Hannah, what did I tell you about talking to strangers-!?" she was ready to scold me, but I never saw mom's face turn into fear so quickly when she realized the old man was following me.
"I would like to buy your daughter," he said with bright blue eyes and without moral hesitation.
"He promised that he will take good care of me and will pay mommy and daddy lots of gold monthly to keep you guys happy," I smiled, always wanting the best for my parents.
Their legs were weak, dad pulled out the wooden chair for my mom to sit on, the pegs were uneven so it made a thunking wobbling sound.
The adults were talking but I didn't understand any of it. There was shouting, whispering, crying, and then acceptance with my parents and the old man.
"Do you have pen and paper?" the stranger asked, mom and dad, panicked as they glared at me, causing me to rush to my feet to scramble for those things.
I fell but manage to get the stuff, handing them to the old man, "Here you go!" I beamed.
He smiled, writing stuff down on paper that I couldn't read, and my parents hovered over my shoulders looking more nervous than I ever saw them be. Once he was finished writing, he showed the paper over to mom and dad as they hastily looked over the words, nervous and excitement engrossed in their eyes.
"What does it say, what does it say?" I grabbed mom's wrist.
"You'll understand when you're older," mom pulled her hand away from me, "now go pack up your belongings. Dear, isn't this such a blessing?" she talked to dad in a tone I never heard her in. It sounded happy.
I did as she said, going to the corner of the house where my makeshift bed was. I shoved my favourite dresses and toys in the blanket and tied it up, glancing at my parents as the old guy handed them a bag with clinky sounds.
Within a heartbeat, I knew it was money.
"This isn't all the payment, but I will appoint my chancellor to finalize the transfer to you soon." he smiled, the crease from his grin made his blue eyes shine more like a prince. This old man was pretty looking, I had to admit.
My parents signed the handwritten contract without hesitation.
I stood in front of the carriage as mom and dad held my hands, teary-eyed and smiling the whole time, "It's a good thing that you were our daughter," they said between grins. I tried to squeeze their hands but they let go of mine too soon.
The old man ushered me into the carriage and as the strange box moved forward, the image of mother and father became further away. All I know is that they were smiling the whole time, and I thought that I should smile too.
"Hannah?" the old man said my name, causing me to tilt my head as I look up at his pretty face. "It's a pretty name," he says with a sigh, "but you won't be using that anymore."
"What do you mean, Uncle?"
"You're going to become King Lucio Vandebilt Klemont's daughter, so you shouldn't be calling me uncle," his smile seem sad when he said such absurd things, reaching his hand out to move away my stray brown hair as his mouth quivered as if about to cry, "welcome back home, Emmeline."
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The kingdom of the west is where house Klemont resides, a young daughter with bountiful brown curls and bright azul eyes rivalled the sky.
It was a day of celebration, a day to celebrate the king's beloved daughter's 10th birthday, to have it spread across the town with a feast, music, and colourful arrays of flowers up and down the cobbled streets.
This small mistake allowed people from neighbouring borders to hide in the crowd and eye for the princess' life.
The king only took his eyes off his pride and joy for mere moments, only for screams to force his legs to run in the direction of his daughter and watch as the assassin bash her head against the marbled statue that was once pearly decor, scathed in red.
He called for the guards as his men grabbed the assailant, but it didn't matter. The assassin bit down a tube of cyanide as glass shattered his tongue, dropping dead before his spit-tainted blood hit the floor.
The princess' 10th birthday stopped abruptly, but the heinous incident wouldn't linger on the townspeople's minds for long as daily life exasperates any needless concerns.
As the millers grind their grains, the herders gather their livestock, and bootblacks will lather up shoes until they shine, the king cried non-stop for his daughter as she is tucked on the lowest floor where only the royal family and clerics visit her.
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"Can you save my daughter?" The king was stern, his blue eyes far away like stained glass.
The clerics looked amongst each other, then at the body of what is supposed to be the princess.
"We're doing our best, your majesty," the great cleric said, nearly haggard with dark circles as he brushes back his greying hair, "she certainly still has a pulse and her fingertips are warm, but there is no flow to her brain,"
"Then what can I do so that she'll live?" The king grimaces.
"Unless you can manage to affix power stones all throughout the kingdom and healers by her side for every hour of her waking moments, that treasury of yours is as good as empty," the cleric replies in earnest.
"Even if you tax the commoners, you could just use that to send people to the borders and attack the people. They've been after the royal family for ages, I'm certain you can rile the commoners with having a dead daughter-" a younger cleric sighs, only for the king to grab him by his front cloak.
"My daughter is NOT dead!" The king's eyes were blotted red from constant crying and lack of sleep, on the edge by simple words. "If we try to buy bulks of power stones, it will be only a matter of time those rats figure out what's it for, and the king's army is good as any to not drag any needless casualties into war-"
"Lucio, let go of my student!" the greater cleric shouts, "You're going to cause her highness to run cold!"
With that, he snapped out of it letting go of the younger man. The cleric fixes his cloak with a pained scoff, hovering his hands over to the princess to transfer his mana to keep the body fresh.
The greater cleric turned to the king, "Lucio," glaring grey eyes as he drops the honorifics, "unless you stop being emotional and reel in your temperament, you're going to put this kingdom of yours into unfathomable peril."
Biting down his jaw and his hands shaking, the king turned away as he looks at his daughter's face, her breaths slow and gentle, but the smashed skull made it look anything but calm. "All you magicians are the same,"
"Then I dare you to find a magic-wielder who would do this dirty job," the greater cleric snide.
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The king took on the offer.
Hopping on the carriage and spending weeks finding such people, the list of well-known mages, clerics, and magic users was dwindling quickly. Trying to pay for informants to point to directions where there may be backdoors or secret entrances just to meet with a capable magician, more often than not he has turned away because mages refuse to muddle into anything if they see nothing to gain from it, or simply they refuse to show themselves to the king.
"All these mongrels only want something in return," the king has been biting his lips often these days, scarring them in the matter of stress, "how can they turn away a child for God's sake?" he rests his hand on his palms, messing with his dishevelled golden-brown hair as he prays to the heavens, wondering why he has to endure such pains.
Just as the carriage passes by a desolate town, the corner of his eye catches a young girl. Brown hair, blue eyes, and just about the same height as his daughter. If anything, this unknown girl could easily pass off as the princess if she was fed daily.
Something in his heart pang at the realization that his real daughter is a lost cause, needing to be a king first and maintain this nation.
Forcing the carriage to stop and wrapping a cape around his shoulders to hide any royal emblems, he walked towards the helpless girl whose eyes were dull, kneeling down to take a closer look at the beggar as he speaks his careful wish, "Would you like to be my daughter?"
The girl blinks, looking at the strange man.
She lived a poor life, barely aware of social cues or proper etiquette, she only dared to ask a question that was instilled into her the day she was born:
"How much will you pay?"