Filia awoke to the sun shining cruelly onto her closed eyelids. She rolled over and fond herself drenched in water. Sputtering she pulled herself out of the creek and looked around. She recognized this field, with it's dark blue-green grass and wildflowers. But why was she here? She smiled – now she remembered! It was to think about who she'd mate one day. What he would look like. But still… that wouldn't be enough of an excuse for her mother, who would have been worrying about her all night, wondering why she hadn't come home.
Quickly Filia stood and began running, her guilt lending strength and speed to her legs. How could she have let her mother worry like that? How could she have been irresponsible enough to fall asleep out in the fields? The thought of what kind of things could have happened to her scared her and made her step falter, almost tripping her, but she recovered and began running again. Her father – whether he'd worried or not – would be furious with her. It was almost midday, and she had more than half of her morning chores to make up. She deliberately avoided thinking about what kind of punishment her father would have in store for her this time.
The sun shone harsh and bright and hot, even in this wide desert oasis that was Filia's home. The city was situated on the down slope of a mountain range, in between two mountains and a great expanse of desert. It was built steep, and caves were nearby, along with a few hidden valleys containing forests and fields. The city was built of white sand and paved with black slabs of stone from their ancient mountain home, where Filia's clan and kin had lived before the Great War. The effect was beautiful, the contrast striking in a pleasant way, but it made for amazingly hot days, and a girl – even a dragon girl – running through the black streets barefoot would have burns and blisters before long. It was with relief that Filia finally came within view of her home. People had watched her curiously as she ran, and she was tired of their wondering stares.
Her pleasure at finding cool stone beneath was cut short by her fathers palm striking her face.
"Where in Phibrizzo's hell have you been, Filia?" He demanded.
Filia looked down at her feet, ashamed. "I was…"
Her father slapped her again. "Don't you dare talk back to me, you little bitch! I thought I taught you last night about what would happen if you talked back to me again. Didn't I tell you? Answer me!"
Filia frowned, swallowing hard. She didn't know! She didn't remember! He wouldn't believe her if she told him that… She gave a stock answer. Her father usually didn't change his ways, when it came to punishing her. Besides which, he was drunk, and probably wouldn't notice any vagueness in her answer. "You did tell me, father."
He nodded. "I did. Good. You remember. So you'll never get your dad mad again, right?"
She nodded as he moved in to kiss her. She stood still – he would kiss her and touch her where he wanted – it was his way of humiliating her into obedience. It had been for a long time. He touched his lips to hers, and her eyes flew open, shocked. He'd never done that before. She still didn't stir. Any type of movement he would take as resistance, and if he thought she was resisting what he claimed to be a show of affection, he'd beat her. That was how it was for Filia. That was how it had always been. She couldn't repress a wince and a disgusted shiver after he turned away. He tasted and smelled like liquor, and that was sickening, but the fact that she'd tasted anything was by far the more nauseating thing.
When he waddled his way back upstairs, her mother shoved a bucket with mop in it at her feet. "Fill it with water and the green soap that we bought yesterday. The kitchen and dining room floors need cleaning."
Filia went through her chores as she always did – efficiently, neatly, and very well. After she mopped the floors she made and served lunch, did the dishes, and cleaned the bedrooms. She washed the laundry after that, tended to the small garden in their small back yard, and then had a quick lunch. She made her father's evening drink and gave that to him, then filled the bath for her mother, and served dinner. This was Filia's usual routine, after which she gratefully retired to bath and then to bed.
Tonight though, she was on edge. Something big had changed – something important had happened. It wasn't just her father's ecchi display earlier, it was the way he looked at her, and watched her walk, and the way his eyes seemed to follow her. When she went into the washroom to bathe she had the insane urge to do so while clothed, and spent almost half an hour fighting that urge back. When she did undress, she kept looking at the door, and the window, expecting to see eyes there. She felt uncomfortable, and finished as quickly as possible, dressing hurriedly, and going to bed.
When she slipped under her covers she felt something shift beside her, and screamed. A hand was slapped over her mouth so quickly and with such force that her lip split and bled. She lay still as a stone, her blood beating in her ears, eyes wide and frightened. Slowly the hand was lifted from her face, it's owner seemingly satisfied that she would not scream again.
"You seem surprised." He father's voice whispered from next to her. "I told you I'd come back tonight. You said you remembered." A pause ensued. "You little bitch, did you lie to me? No, you couldn't have forgotten. You're resisting me!"
He tried to pull her up against him, but she struggled and pulled out of his grasp, rolling off of the floor and to her feet. When she saw that he was going to follow her, she ran out of her room and downstairs, stopping next to the front door. It was dangerous to go out into the city at night, she knew this. A million things could happen to her, but as she heard her father's lumbering, drunken steps tromping down the stairs after her, she decided that the chance of a million was better than the certainty of one. She darted out of the door.
As she ran through the dark, unlit streets she got an overpowering sense of deja-vu, of something like this having happened before, and though she wracked her memory she could not find any hint of it, so she pushed it aside. Her feet pounded the ground to the rhythm of her frantically beating heart. After a while she found herself in the same field as before.
She stopped so suddenly she overbalanced herself, and she fell face-forward. She tried to bring her arms up to shield her face but too late, and she felt her head hit a rock. Everything went black.
When she woke again, the moon was high in the sky, covered mostly in shadow, showing itself as a mere white slice. A cold breeze blew through the field, and the grass danced with it, whispering. Filia shivered and rose into a sitting position and pulled her knees to her chest. In the dark night, under the shadow of the mountains, with the whispering and whistling wind, her wailing cries were a haunting accompaniment.
Her father wasn't a wonderful man – hadn't ever been, really – but she loved him. She loved him with the kind of unconditional love a child gives her parent without thought and without cost. She obeyed him when he gave her orders, she forgave him when he hurt her, and she gave him the benefit of the doubt when all he deserved was her disdain. Her father had done many things – many strange and horrible and hurtful things – but he'd never tried to rape her. He'd never, ever tried to violate her like that. He'd never attempted to do something so vile and degrading to her.
So, confused and disillusioned, she cried, alone in the field, uncaring of who or what heard her. She couldn't go back home. Her mother wouldn't believe her, and her father… she didn't know, nor id she want to know, what he would do. She didn't want to guess. So she didn't think about it. She recoiled from all thought, and pushed her feelings to the back of her mind. Her wailing died down to dry sobs, and then to soft whimpers, and after that there was no sound but the slithering grass, and the gabby creek.
"Where can I go?" her own voice startled her, and Filia recoiled from the sound, she hadn't even known she had the urge to speak.
"To the temple of the Fire Dragon King." Came a voice behind her.
She spun around on her backside, and still didn't see anyone. Her eyes darted around fearfully. "Where are you? Who are you?"
"A friend." Again the voice came from behind, and again she didn't see anything. "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you. I'll help you. Go to the Temple of the Fire Dragon King. Train to be a priestess."
"They won't let me. They only take girls from good families – Cepheid-fearing families. Mine isn't…what am I saying? Who are you?"
"A friend, as I told you." She felt the touch of a hand on her cheek. "I'll help you. Don't worry about their standards…they don't really check. Your father and mother are Fearing-fearing…they are good people. Say it."
"But…"
"Say it, and it will be true for you. Your parents are good parents. Almost perfect."
"They're…good parents. Almost perfect." As she said it she felt something in the way she looked at things shift. Her father really was good…and her mother was kind…
"And they're really too good to you, aren't they? You feel you can't do enough for them. Say it."
"They're too good to me. I can't do enough for them. I can't repay them for all that they've done for me…" Phantoms rose up in her mind, shadow-memories of birthday parties she'd never had, hours talking to her father that had never been spent. Carefree trips to the market that had before been dull and obligatory. Slowly, they solidified. They were almost real for her.
"That's right…" said the voice, close enough she could feel it's cool breath against her ear. "They're perfect to you. There almost nothing you can do to repay them. You feel unworthy of all their praise."
"All they've done for me…and nothing to give them back…"she murmured. Visions of proud looks from her father and hugs from her mother drifted across her mind, becoming clearer and clearer, and lodging themselves in her memory, overlapping other, less pleasant memories.
"Except one thing. Think how proud they'd be if you became a priestess! Their little angel, in direct contact with Cepheid. Wouldn't they be thrilled?"
"They'd be so happy…if I were a priestess…"
"Yes…" the voice purred. "We'll make it a surprise to them, you and I. I'll show you the way to the temple, and you'll sign up to become a priestess, and begin your training. They'll send word to your parents, and they will be overjoyed. I'll help you through all of this. I'll be your guide."
She leaned into the hand on her cheek, trilling softly. She liked this reality that he'd painted for her. She wanted to believe it – needed to believe in it – and so she did. She told herself that nothing bad went on at home, she was just so undeserving a daughter, she'd run out here to think of ways to please her parents, to make them even more happy with her, and she had. This beautiful, wonderful, invisible being before her would help her. She would follow where it led.
"Lay down in my lap." The voice said. "You can sleep here, and we'll set out tomorrow evening. It isn't good for any young one – even a dragon – to travel on the desert during the day. Everything you will need will be here when you wake. I'll protect you the whole way. You'll have nothing to fear. Sleep…"
She was guided so that her head lay on the voice's thigh, and she curled up close to the voice – even though there was no warmth coming from it. The last thing she heard as she fell asleep was:
"I'll protect you, my little dragoness. I'll protect you as well as I can, from everything."
Her sleep was dreamless, and restful.
So, C&C? Tell me what you think. I'm thinking I might have wanted to make it a bit longer….