.:A Dangerous Punishment:.

.:Nine Year's Later:.

The stable hands bowed to me as I entered the stable yard that morning, and one of them pointed towards the fields that lay just behind the buildings. I nodded in thanks and hurried on, feeling my nervousness building at the back of my throat and turning my mouth dry. My husband was furious: today, in front of select member of his court, King Bacall would announce our son, Prince Aswen, as his successor after the King's death. Everything was read, from the flower displays to the seemingly overly ornate crown that had been especially made to sit snugly on Aswen's little head. But that was not why Bacall had taken time out of his busy schedule to track me down in the nursery, where I had been trying to soothe our terrified son's nerves. It was time for the family to get dressed in all of our finery to celebrate the announcing of the Crown Prince, Bacall had told me quietly, after he had pulled me into a corner of the room.

And Princess Thalia was missing.

So here I was, hurrying down to the place I knew my daughter would be. Thalia was three weeks off her ninth birthday, an adored child, and already famed throughout Carsona for her beauty, which would only grow and grow in the future. So far, Bacall had had my daughter brought before visiting ambassadors of five different lands, all of whom seemed eager to set up a marriage between Thalia and the Princes of their own lands. That was another issue that made the temples in Bacall's forehead throb to bursting point, and I couldn't help smile as I hear again my daughter's stubborn voice in my mind as she had confronted her father after the last such visitation:

"I'm not going to have an arranged marriage, thank you very much, Father. Besides, Prince Yohan looks like a toad and smells like a pig – we'd never get along."

Oh, how Bacall had screamed at me! I was poisoning 'our' daughter's mind, he'd accused, and to disobey a King in the way Thalia had just done was treason! When I had inquired calmly if even he had the courage to behead his own daughter, Bacall had slammed his way out of the room and refused to acknowledge either myself or Thalia for over a week.

I reached the fields just as a bank of clouds covered the sun above our heads. As the world grew grey around us, casting eerie shadows along the ground ahead of me from the gnarled trees behind me, I heard my daughter's voice screaming with laughter.

"CAUGHT YOU!" Thalia was screaming, and I breathed out a sigh of relief. "'Dragon's breath, dragon's snout, Lady Rhianna snuffs you out!' Now you have to catch me, Seth!"

Thalia suddenly came hurtling along the field in line with the fence, followed closely by her best friend Seth, the son of the chief hostler at the palace. The two had been playmates since Thalia had been able to push herself up onto her feet and waddle around. I remember times when, while watching Bacall riding down in the very field my daughter was playing in now, a four-year-old Seth would be helping my two-year-old daughter to walk up and down the path from the stable yard to the field, watched by Thalia's grim-faced guards. I did not mind their friendship, but I knew Bacall disapproved of it, and I had fought bitterly with him to allow Thalia to continue meeting up with Seth – although there were palace children how Bacall frequently pushed onto my daughter, Thalia did not like them. The boys constantly taunted Thalia for her proffering to wear trousers and shirts instead of dresses – which often led to fearsome fights, where both the girl and boys received several bashed noses – and the girls was tease Thalia for her bruises and cuts. Seth wasn't like that, and it pained me to have to interrupt their game while they were having so much fun.

"Thalia! Thalia, come here, please!" I called, making the two children stop dead in their tracks. I saw the friends glance worriedly at each other, then they hesitantly clambered over the fence and walked slowly up towards me.

Both dropped to a bow. "Hello, Mother. What have I done?"

"We need to get ready to watch the King make Aswen the Crown Prince," I replied calmly. I saw Thalia roll her beautiful eyes at my words, and I couldn't help by frown disapprovingly. "There is no need for jealousy, my dear, but there is need for haste – the King is having a fit! Why did you just run off like that when the King was looking for you? You knew today is Aswen's big day! Surely you can be there for sisterly support?"

Seth looked up at me and then glanced at Thalia. His sandy hair was constantly covered in dust from the stable hay, and his brown eyes were deep and intelligent for one so young. "Thalia, I probably need to go back to work now, anyway," he told her slowly. "I'll see you later."

Thalia nodded and hung her head. Seth bowed to me again and started up the hill once more, leaving us alone together. Thalia refused to meet my eye.

"Do you have an explanation, Thalia?"

The girl was silently for a moment. "I had a fight with Relnarin this morning. He said I was a disappointment to the kingdom – father doesn't love me because I am a...a girl." She flinched at the memory, and I heard a sob building up at the back of her throat. "I...hit him. He said he would tell Father, and then I'd be in big trouble because the King says I'm not supposed to fight any more."

"Is that why you ran away?" I asked gently, as Thalia's stubborn pride forced her tears to stay at bay. "Because of what that annoying little boy said?"

"But Father's going to be angry with me. Again. I don't like it when he shouts."

I lowered myself to my knees besides her, pulling Thalia into a warm embrace. She hugged me back as hard as she could, her head buried into my shoulder as she cried, and I couldn't help but think of her father. Her real father. Myron might have been annoyed that she fought, angry that she had run away, but would he shouted at her to the extent that Bacall usually did? I doubted it, and resentment flourished within my breast. "Thalia, your father loves you very, very much."

But my daughter still thought of Bacall as her father, and she looked at me with her crystal blue eyes wide with objection. "He loves Aswen. Everyone loves Aswen; everyone just tells me off for being...for being myself! I want to fight, slay demons, battle with sorcerers, and yet I'm always being ordered to put on stupid dresses!" She pouted, suddenly ashamed of her outburst. "You can't do those things in dresses."

I stood, glancing back at the palace as though I could feel Bacall's mounting anger. "I think we should go, Thalia. The King will just be more angry with us for dallying."

Thalia took my hand in her own. As we walked quickly back to our chambers, Thalia did not speak a word. Only her tight fingers around my own betrayed any of the jealousy and misery she was going through at that moment. I doubted Bacall would care.

As the King placed the small crown atop Aswen's crop of curly brown hair, I felt pride swelling within me. Cheers filled the room, reaching up to the high-vaulted ceiling of the throne room above our heads – cheers of celebration for my son. Finally, after seven years of preparation, Bacall had finally decided to give our first-born son the title of Crown Prince. He stepped back and looked proudly down at the child, who gazed back up at his father with the same dark eyes as his father, and a nose that was almost as perfectly straight.

The King helped Aswen to stand, steadying the boy as he swayed dangerously under the sheer weight of the crown on his head. Stand next to me, I heard my other children sniggering at their brother's near accident, though they soon quietened after I gave them my sternest of looks. Thalia hung her head, and four-year-old Roag gave me the broadest smile he could muster.

"My lady?" I looked up as Bacall led Aswen over to us – he still looked as nervous as he had done on being led into the throne room. "May I introduce the Crown Prince of Carsona?"

Thalia and I curtsied low, while Roag pulled a face at his brother and quickly bobbed a bow. Aswen stepped forwards and hugged me, then Roag, then he turned to Thalia. She smiled and gently punched his shoulder, ignoring the stern look on the King's face.

"You do look funny with that crown on, Assie," she said, then giggled as Aswen cringed. "Is it heavy?"

At that moment, the royal tutor appeared behind Bacall, his face more than a little frightened. "Your Majesty? May I have a quick word?" He glanced at Thalia, then muttered. "It's about the little Princess."

My daughter paled instantly at those words, and Bacall spun to face the man, his face suddenly livid. "What has she done?"

The small little man shied back, bowing humbly. "It's...it's about our last magic lesson this morning, My King. Thalia had certain...erm...difficulties controlling her levitation spell. I'm afraid to say that the harpsichord is now..." The man bit his lip. "The harpsichord is even now crushed under one of the bookcases. I'm sorry, Majesty."

Roag snorted with laughter. Aswen looked at me, and Thalia began to back slowly away towards the doors behind us. Bacall whirled round to face her, his face filled with anger. "Don't walk away from me, young lady! I want you to go to my office in the south wing right now and await me there, understand? We will discuss this matter after I leave the banquette in your brother's honour."

I saw immediately where Bacall was going with his punishment, and I stepped forwards to confront him. Thalia looked like she was about to cry once more, though her lips were pressed together tightly, eyes glaring. "Bacall, do you really think the crushing of a harpsichord that no one ever plays is reason enough to allow her to miss the banquette? Will you not allow her just---"

"This matter does not concern you," Bacall told me harshly, then looked at Thalia again. "I believed I dismissed you."

I knew that there was no way Bacall would let me run after me daughter, even though I sorely wanted to. She fled through the entrance, tearing the hairpiece she had been told to wear, out of her hair, trembling with regret. The noblemen and women in the room were already pretending not to be watching the scene before them on the dais, and Aswen looked longingly after his older sister as though even he was thinking about racing after her. But Bacall had his hand on the boy's shoulder, holding him back, though his eyes never left my own. They were hard and authoritative, telling me that I had more hope of sprouting wings and flying than being able to make Bacall change his mind and summon Thalia back.

It didn't stop me from speaking my mind. "You can't keep treating her like that, Bacall. Thalia is going to be a woman in a few years time, and you have to stop treating her like some wayward child. She made one mistake. Do you really think she enjoys being shouted at by the man she calls 'father'?"

"Eloryn, our daughter is going to be married off to a foreign Prince one day," Bacall replied tiredly, as though I were some idiot that needed everything explained to me. "No land wants to have a wife for their son who would much rather use a sword than produce offspring. Thalia needs to learn that she can't behave like some...like some foolish commoner's daughter who doesn't know any better, and this is the last we shall speak of the matter."

I felt his words as a knife against my heart and the memory of Myron. I hadn't dreamed of him since I had become pregnant with Aswen. When the renegade had offered to destroy the child within my womb for me with magic, so I would not have Bacall's son, I could not bring myself to let him. Myron had, of course, been furious, accused me of falling in love with my husband, and reminded me that I had promised my heart to him. When I had tried to tell Myron that I really did love only he, the man had answered that if that truly was the case I would not be so eager to have one of Bacall's worms growing within me. Furious, I'd slapped him hard across the face; the child was still part of me, and never could I kill my own flesh and blood!

"We agreed that I would come back to your rooms," Myron had snarled at me, his face full of disgust. "You told me you wanted me to father your next child!"

"But you wouldn't answer me when I called you, Myron!" I'd objected, shaking my head. "And Bacall got tired of his mistresses. How could I turn away a King?"

"You managed to turn me away more than enough times!"

"Are you jealous Myron?"

"Of course I am!" Myron had snapped. "Why should that monster of a man get to use my lover as his own plaything, and to see my daughter growing up while I hide my face in dreams! I can't stand not seeing my daughter! I have a right mind to enter her dreams as well!"

I had been so shocked by his words, I could only gape at Myron in horror. When I'd been able to find my voice once more, it had trembled with rage. "Myron, you can't seriously be considering that?"

"And why not? Scared I'll blow your cover?" His face suddenly grew hard. "Or do you just want our daughter all to yourself?"

"You'll scare her, Myron! Thalia has awful nightmares about mages and magic; she'd be terrified if she thought you were one as well!"

Myron had snorted disbelievingly. "You just don't want me to see my daughter. You're scared she'll find out who I really am, then want to come and find me. Don't lie to me, Eloryn – I can see the truth in your eyes."

He had been right, of course. Myron could read me like an open book, but the truth still stung me to the core. I'd pulled my head high, glaring at him. And then I'd ruined our relationship forever. "I'm glad I didn't take you back with me again, Myron: how would Carsona survive with a son of yours on the throne? Greedy, self-obsessed, arrogant and bloody-minded – that's you in a nutshell."

"And you are a cold-hearted, back-stabbing bitch!" Myron snarled, then spat on the floor at my feet. The hurt in his eyes was unbearable, fuelling his renewed rage. "I pray to every god in existence that Thalia doesn't end up like you: it's a father's worst nightmare to think his little girl would spread her legs to any man within her sight!"

When I had woken, I'd found myself shaking with anger, unable then to regret anything I'd said or done. I was too proud to call on Myron ever again after that, and he never visited me in our dream. When different, strange dreams began, I knew at once that Myron had severed our connexion for good, and my heart felt like it was breaking. But at least I still had our daughter. I couldn't except the fact that, deep down, I still loved Myron, and I had a family and a duty to preform.

At least Thalia still loved me – as far as I cared now, I kept telling myself firmly, Myron could rot in hell. If only I could believe I wanted what I said! Thalia was very like Myron in the way her anger could flare out of control at the slightest insult, and she could argue with a person until muted. She longed for adventure, excitement, a life outside of Carsona, and yet for all that, she did love Bacall like he was her father. But Bacall did not love her as a daughter - as a pawn for his country, maybe, but it was a love nonetheless. It was a love not even my father had cared to give me. Her half-brother Aswen adored her, and their friendship reminded me strongly of my own admiration for my older brother, Prince Harte. Thalia was a lucky child in many respects, but dreadfully unlucky in others, and I could not give her everything I wished for her: Myron as an ever-present father, me as her mother, to grow up within her parents' stable relationship, and to have full-blood siblings. But those things would never happen.

I curtsied to Bacall, keeping the resentment from my face. "My lord King, I beg of you to be leniant with my daughter. She tries to please you in her learning; what fault of it is hers that she could not control that one spell? You know how hard she practices in order to master her skills, do not knock her achievements to the side! It will hurt her too much."

But Bacall merely gestured towards the main doors, silently ordering Aswen to lead the way out of the throne room. The boy glanced back at me, his regret shining in his eyes, then he did as his father had bid. Bacall offered me his arm; I could not refuse it.

The banquette was long and tidious, and Aswen was soon shifting uncomfortably in his seat, obviously wanting to leave and be allowed to be a little boy once more. There was musicians, actors, preforming animals - I knew Thalia would have loved the great lion that had reared up its hind legs like a horse, and it made me turn my face down to examin the starter on my plate. But as we tucked into the main course, a guardsman entered the room, his face sickly-looking with dread. Something was wrong.

The musicians stopped playing as Bacall rose to his feet to great the man, and the guard dropped to the floor and shuddered. "My King, there has been...a terrible misfortune. We've searched everywhere, Sire, but I'm afraid---"

"What has happened?" Bacall demanded quickly, glaring at me to remain seated as I went to stand. My chest felt tight with foreboding. "Speak up, man!"

The young man on the floor hesitated, then lifted his head to look at his King. He looked terrified out of his wits. "Princess Thalia is missing."

FantasyGuurl - I'm so glad you enjoyed it! Hope this was OK!

kyra-maRia - Keeping the updates coming as quick as I can!! XD

Pirate - Twisted childhood? Maybe I really should be a little nicer to Thalia. Thank you!

martini the brave - Nooo! You're gone!! Hope you enjoyed this anywho!!

Everyone else, hope you enjoyed too! Llamas, Ginger-Bizkit!