Yours
Standing in the centre of her new bedroom in the palace, Jasmine was not quite sure how to feel. The carpeted floor felt strangely soft beneath her feet. The whitish grey walls decorated with two small scenic paintings seemed dull in comparison to rich colours of the Forests.
Jasmine turned her head to the large window, framed by a pair of slightly faded, purple silk curtains. She rushed over and hastily opened the window, allowing a pleasantly cool breeze to flow into the room. As fresh air filled the room, it began to feel less like a prison cell.
Beside the window stood a tall, wooden chest of drawers. Jasmine pulled the drawers out one by one. Each drawer was empty, except for a thin layer of dust, as they were yet to be cleaned. The drawers were unnecessary large. She could not imagine what she would possibly store in them. The thought of placing her few small posessions into the large drawers seemed silly.
Dismissing the chest of drawers as currently useless, Jasmine wandered over to the small, square-shaped table beside her bed. It, too, had drawers, but they were much smaller. She pulled open the top drawer and began to empty the contents of her pockets into it, except for one item. She grabbed one of her daggers, the one with the crystal cross embedded in the hilt, the one that had originally belonged to her father, and placed it on top of the small table. She knew the palace was likely far less dangerous than the Forests, or anywhere else she, Lief and Barda had slept during their quest, but the idea of the weapon being within her grasp at night put her wary mind at ease.
As Jasmine moved to sit on the edge of her bed, her door creaked open. Doom, her father, entered silently. Jasmine watched as his eyes scanned the room curiously, before settling on the dagger. He picked it up and studied it closely, his eyes shining with a mixture of delight and disbelief, as if he had not expected the dagger to fall into his hands ever again, or had not expected his daughter to have held onto it as a treasured possession for so many years.
"It was yours," Jasmine said, breaking the heavy silence between them.
"I know," Doom murmured in reply, "I remember." Slowly, he ran his rough hands over the dagger's hilt, then traced the crystal cross with his thumb.
Though she examined his expression intently, Jasmine could not discern what her father was possibly thinking about. Perhaps the dagger drew out many memories he had long forgotten. Perhaps it held some sort of meaning for him. She did not know.
"You can have it back, if you wish," she told him. "I have another dagger."
Immediately, Doom glanced at her, as if shocked by her request. He looked down at the dagger once more, before setting it down gently on the table beside her bed. "No," he said, shaking his head. His eyes focused directly on hers, not in a stern glare, but a sincere, meaningful gaze. "It is yours."