Author's note: Hello guys! You see, I can't find new and enjoyable stories anymore. The ones I have my eyes on just don't seem interested in continuing. Every day I check the list, and nothing comes up. Now I know you are wondering what this has to do with anything, but well, I came up with a theory. This might be the reason my mind is so active, the reason I am so resolute in publishing something. For the sake of those trapped in my situation. I don't know how good this is, but I hope it is enough. One shot. I think. The future is uncertain after all.
"The last thing I need is long hair getting in my way" –My Warden Cousland said, in an offhand manner that served to conceal a turmoil deep inside.
…A young tomboy lady who, by her mother, hadn't been allowed to cut the annoying tresses off. Her father had been rather amused by the notion, she fondly remembered, had laughed hard without an ounce of shame. Of course, this had put off her mother. "Don't you see? How, where will she end up if she keeps going like this? She'll have no one, live alone for the rest of her days!" The older-than-she-cared-to-admit woman said, or shrieked. The teyrn of Highever simply smiled and commented "All of that from a hairstyle? …troubling indeed…" The teyrna huffed, muttered "this is your entire fault anyway, stupid nanny served for nothing" and stormed out the room. Though he had had more pressing matters to attend to, he sat down next to his daughter and took the time to explain why 'mom' was so aggravated, and the reality of noble society. She argued, obviously, even fumed at him, (so much like her mother that later, one day, she mused on inter-family resemblance.) But eventually the pent up energy subsided. "Besides" he said, kissing the top of her head, "these are beautiful curls." Now she couldn't fume, listen in awe, or enjoy his soft kisses. She couldn't get frustrated at her mother, or blatantly contradict her just to make her angry. She couldn't come down the rooms at night, sneak past the maids and the guards, find her in the library, and without words ask forgiveness. She just couldn't.
And now, life was different. Now she had to take precautions. So she took out the dagger, and accomplished one of her most simple, most prominent, childhood dreams. The brown locks fell, her head felt lighter. And her teeth showed, but not from happiness, giddiness, or any of the like. Stealthy tears fell as she severed one of the, if not the, last remnants of the past.
And ways off stood a kind hearted, comical blond. He was looking, and he realized, he wanted to be a source of security and comfort for the one who had prevented him from wallowing in the loop of grieve.
But he didn't trust himself.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -Author's final note: Ok, this is just something to provide a little foreshadowing and background to my Female Warden Cousland… and to leave my head clear. I don't know if I will write stories for her, but the ideas are certainly there. I just gotta hope they grow roots into my head and fester. So, comments and critics gladly appreciated… haters not so much.