Father hadn't left his study in days now.
He had returned home from a fierce and intense battle with the Riders of Rohan, leading his own group into a clean victory with only one death. However, this one death was all it took for my father to shut down.
The man watched his own brother die in battle, killed in the dead of night by a legion of Half-Orc Men. At least, that's what he told me before disappearing into his study and staying there for days.
Today I was bringing him supper, just as I did each day. I'd call for him to open the door but he'd never leave the seat, and so I had to open it myself, carrying a hot bowl of stew and a large freshly made loaf of bread on a copper platter, as well as a glass of rich red wine.
"Father, dinner is ready." I told him, a smile inching it's way across my lips, only for my brow to crease as I frowned deeply at the sight of him.
He had finally given in and was sleeping, head buried in his arms on his desk. I sighed, placing the tray down on the wooden desk and inched closer to him silently, taking a strand of his long brown hair between my fingers and curling it before brushing the hair from his tanned skin.
I examined him for a moment before I turned to leave, only returning moments later with a wool blanket that I gently flung across the man's broad, still armoured shoulders.
He hadn't even taken off his armour, which was still stained with blood and grime, just as his face had been. I frowned deeper, as worry writhed in the pit of my soul.
He was deteriorating, as each day I'd bring him a meal, three, actually, but he'd never eat. Never leave his study, and what's most disturbing - he never spoke.
Others had come to visit him and congratulate him on his victory, but I sadly informed them that he was ill. They seemed suspicious of me, but left without protesting as they, too, had heard of Uncle's death.
I sighed softly before leaning down and kissing my father's head of messy, greasy hair before straightening myself and turned to leave, leaving the food there for him just in case he awoke soon.
My hand found the cold doorknob and as I twisted it, a cold gust of air burst open the windows at the opposite end of the room. The sound was screaming to me, speaking to me, and I shuddered as the cool breeze kissed my bare skin. I immediately forced them shut, pulling the curtains back before sighing and glancing over my shoulder to my father, who was still sound asleep.
And then I saw it.
A small glistening in the candlelight of the desk. Just clutched in my father's hand but barely, a small golden object.
I knew not why I suddenly felt the need to investigate, but I did. I inched closer and sank to my knees before slowly, carefully uncurling my father's fingers one by one, only to stiffen as my eyes found a beautiful golden ring in the palm of his dirty hand.
I plucked it from his dirty skin and stood up, slowly turning to the window and opening the curtain once more. The moon light was catching the beautiful inscriptions on the inside of the ring, but I knew not what they said. It seemed to be some sort of foreign language, but for the briefest of moments, they were glowing.
Glowing in the moonlight, I held it high above me, as if victorious for having found it. I felt a sudden surge of happiness, of pure joy rush through every vein in my body, my muscles wanted to jump and I wanted to dance, but I simply shifted from one foot to the other as my mouth formed an unmistakable grin.
But then, I heard my father grumble sleepily and I snapped my head towards him, eyes wide as I watched him stir in his seat before his brown eyes slowly fluttered open, only to meet my own blue ones.
We exchanged glances before the man flashed a look of pure terror towards me, eyes widening and skin draining of all colour as if he'd witnessed death itself.
He slowly stood up, and a frown inched across his rugged features, "Agnes?" He stammered out, his voice low and full of malice.
"Agnes, give me that." He demanded, voice growing louder, but I simply frowned back at him as I stared through the ring at him.
"Why?" I asked, amusement lacing through my tone. "You should give it to me." I suggested, "It was my birthday when you were at war, father. You should give this to me as my birthday present."
But my father didn't give in and accept my demand, his expression hardened as he stepped closer to me, his height overtowaring my own.
"Agnes, I won't ask you twice," The man warned, "Give me the ring."
He inched closer and closer until his arm extended and he swiped at mine, but I was fast enough to clutch the ring close to my chest, "No." I hissed, clenching my fist tightly as I felt my back graze the glass window behind me.
My father's patience had by now run short, and the man began shuddering and quirking in the most awkward places. His eyes began darting around fiercely and his lips began twitching, forming incoherent words that I couldn't hear, nor read.
But then he spoke again.
"But, she's my daughter.." He said, as if arguing with another. "I love her." His tone fell short as if someone had interrupted him and his eyes found mine again.
Suddenly, I, too, heard a strange sound. It wasn't a voice, and it wasn't words, but somehow, it spoke to me.
"He wants the ring, Agnes," It hissed to me, "He's going to take me from you."
I shuddered as the sound came from right at my side, despite no one being there, it cooed into my ear.
"He'll kill you and take it. He'll take me from you if you don't do something."
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out as my father suddenly lunged at me. "Give me the ring, Agnes!" He shrieked at the top of his lungs as his strong arms found my wrists, though I began struggling, he was far too strong for me to escape.
The man began forcing my clenched fist open and I felt my whole body quake with a sudden power. A sudden rage that I had to feed.
"Kill him!"
I quickly shoved the gold object into my mouth and clenched my jaw, though I didn't swallow it, I held it with my tongue before my father gasped in horror, "No!" He cried as I slid between his legs and ran for the door into the living room of our house.
"Agnes, don't you dare swallow that ring!" He growled angrily, though the room was awfully dark, he could hear my ragged breathing through my nose, and he found me.
I stood in front of the fireplace, eyes meeting his once more.
For the briefest of moments, I felt sorrow writhe within me. My father looked malicious and completely taken by madness. He had gone insane.
He began storming towards me, raising his fists into the air as if he was about to strike me down, but I felt my fingertips brush against something cold.
I clutched the handle of the fire-poker and as my father took a fistful of my hair, screaming and demanding that I give the ring back, his fingers found my throat and he began choking me, trying to force my mouth open.
But then as I raised the fire-poker in front of me, his gripped loosened and everything seemed to end.
I felt a warm sensation run down my hands and to my wrists before finding my white sleeve, and the weight of my father's impaled head found the poker, which I quickly dropped and watched the tall man fall with it, only falling onto the iron and impaling himself farther.
I watched him bleed out, but he had died the moment the iron found his skull.
Soon, a pool surrounded his muscular upper body and I knelt down beside him, watching him and frowning as his eyes, now glassy and void of life, stared back at me.
But then I spat out the ring into my blood-stained hands and examined it. My eyes darted back and forth from the piece of gold to my father, and I felt nothing but victorious as I stared at his bloody corpse.
One more time, I raised the ring above me, examining it in the light of the moon. A smirk found my face and I began speaking to it once more.
"I did it," I said, "I killed him." My eyes widened as that strange noise echoed through my mind once more.
"Wear me, Agnes." It asked, "I'd look lovely on your beautiful pale finger."
The ring was absolutely beautiful as I slid it onto my right hand's ring finger, examining it. I didn't scream or cry as the world around me suddenly shifted and turned, and a screech pierced my very soul.
I simply stared and admired the ring on my finger, smiling with content as it glistened around me. Shrieks could be heard from all around me, but I didn't mind. Somehow, despite how they should frighten me, they didn't. They comforted me.
Then, I spoke once more.
"You're beautiful," I said, "You're.." I suddenly lost my word and I furrowed my brows momentarily before the memory of my sentence returned, a wicked, malevolent grin forming on my blood-splattered face.
"You're my precious.."