Disclaimer: I own not, you sue not.
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She can't stand their pitying glances, the whispers that follow her down the crowded hallways. For once, she wishes that she wasn't a knight, just so people won't recognize her. Instead, everyone knew who she was, and what had happened.
Her room was too small, too familiar. It held laughter and winter days by the fire. Shadows of things that could never be again danced in front of her eyes, prompting her to take refuge in a place they had never gone.
The knight's practice court was out. They had been there many days, to watch Neal, Merric and so many others. Friends, who kept saying 'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry'.
She had to get away.
The pages were on their winter camping experience in the Royal Forest. Their courts were empty. Different shadows dwelt here, shadows of a time before any of this was set into motion. Happy shadows that she hasn't thought of in a long while.
A practice dummy stuffed with straw serves as a tool to practice punching and kicking. She goes to it, sinking her fist into it with a satisfying noise.
Another punch, followed by a kick. Soon she is beating the dummy as hard as she can, knocking straw out of ripped seams. Without realizing it, she is screaming.
"Why? Why did you do this to him?" She shouts, not caring if anyone sees. Suddenly, there is a hand on her shoulder and she is flailing at whoever touched her. He takes her fists with surprisingly gentle hands, making them stop their frantic movements.
"Why?" She whispers, sobbing now. Hesitantly, he loosely wraps his arms around her in a comforting embrace, much like the one she received from her father that morning. "Why not me?" She cries against his no nonsense tunic until she cannot cry anymore. Pulling free, she wipes her eyes with one of the handkerchiefs she always has.
"Any better?" He asks awkwardly. She nods and blows her nose.
"I wish I had been a boy, like you're always saying, my lord," she reveals. "Then I wouldn't have to be feeling this."
"It would hurt even if you had been Aaron's father instead of his mother," he says, practical as ever.
"I know," she admits. "But it hurts so much. Gods, he was only four! And if I were the father, I'd be dead right now, which means it wouldn't hurt."
"Hasn't Queenscove been helping? And Masbolle, Hollyrose, Jesslaw, I told them to watch you." He tries not to sound worried, but she can tell he intends to ask them to keep a closer watch on her.
"They would have watched anyway. They've been wonderful, but I needed to hit something." She gives a choked half sob, half laugh. "I suppose I owe the training master a practice dummy."
"I'll take care of it," he says. She doesn't say anything.
She doesn't have to.
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AN: I left a lot of clues in there, so everyone should be able to tell who they are. To make something clear, this is supposed to show a father-daughter like relationship. Please,
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