THE QUATERNITY

Nighttime, heavy rainfall, and silent walls.

The crowd has died down, kids settled comfortably in their beds, the parents wait anxiously for the good news.

The crackling of thunder arrests their hearts for a mere second and they fear if the baby will be scared.

The loud scream of the queen echoes through the empty halls followed by the loud shriek of the newborn princess.

The people rejoice.

The princess grows up to be a beautiful young maiden, tall, beautiful, pitch-black hair, stygian eyes that hold a lot of mystery behind them.

The kingdom's first princess after 3 failed attempts- or as she calls them - her brothers.

She was different, daring, smart, and cunning.

Unlike her brother or her 4 sisters after her, she wasn't interested in the crown.

She wanted something else.

In her youth, she was quite the rebel.

her mother brushed it off saying it was her age and the hormones, but her father knew.

He knew that she was different and she was dangerous. He knew with utmost certainty that if he dies, it shall be by her hands.

He knew that those pretty hands which he held will be the one that strikes the deathly blow.

He knew.

When her sisters’ practised cooking and dancing and singing , she was out with her brothers running in the forest and exploring the streams and fighting animals.

When her father sat there comfortably on his red velveteen cushion on the gold throne, she went out, she met the people. 

The good, the bad, the ugly, the respected and the disregarded.

She fought for their rights. Maybe she was a rebel, maybe she was a disgrace to the kingdom, maybe she was a thorn in her father's side.

“You are such a disgrace…” his words echo in her mind.

She has wondered for several moons if her dear father even loved her, being not accepted by your parents is something so common and something so justified.

Who cares about the mental well-being of their kid when you want to see them thrive and live upto your name, if at all they are a disappointment they’d be scarred for life and beg to earn your forgiveness and love.

Either you follow or fall through and end up alone and unloved.

For many moons her father has also wondered where he went wrong and what he did differently from his other daughters. What did he do that made his daughter hate him so much.

He did what he had to do, as a king and a father, what he had to do to keep his babies protected and safe.

He still remembers the first day she held his hand , the day she fell down , the day she started walking , the day she bit her brother and the day she started cooking , the day she ran away to the woods, the day she shot her first arrow, lit her first flame, burnt half the palace down, bought a guy from the dark side of the kingdom home, the day she ran into his arms and told him he was gonna be a grandfather… he remembers it all.

She too, still remembers the old times, the bad more than the good. But she remembers nonetheless.

Her first victory against her father, going against him , looking at people around the kingdom, aspiring for change, the day she met Dmitri, the day her father met Dmitri and all the running into the woods, and swimming in the lake and being lost in the forest for days, hoping her father would change, let alone understand. 

The first day her father taught her to control her powers, start fires, and burnt the palace down- they had to make her sleep in a room full of people to ensure she won't light things on fire again.

She chuckles lightly thinking about the incident and her father groans in pain from under her as she moves the knife in his side ever so lightly.

She looks at her bleeding father on her lap and gives him a weak smile. The blood continues to pool beneath them.

“ I told you to be careful… didn't I?” she asks with sadness in her eyes.

“ You did… my love… you did…” he breathes shallowly.

Just a week ago she had left home with her husband to support the people of the other side, and her father knew the only way to get his daughter back was to give her the unity she thrives for.

Just before the treaty could be signed, news came that the king was stabbed.

She rushed back home to find her father on the throne, head hung low, gasping for air as the troops knelt beside him with tears in their eyes and pain in their hearts. “ I’ll DIE ON THIS CHAIR ….AS A KING WHO SUPPORTS MY DAUGHTER’S WISHES” he barked… or so they said.

Her mother and sister were seated beside the throne in pieces themselves, her brothers kneeling before their respective troops.

When he saw her standing at the door, his dull face lit up and reached out to her.

And this time when he fell, his daughter was there for him, this time when he fell he fell into the arms of the one he comforted.

He looked up at his daughter's saddened face and trembling lips, and knew then that he was wrong.

She wasn't going to be the hands that stabbed him, she was going to be the hands that pulled the knife out and eased his pain.

He shakily take shis crown and hands it to her -” there can be no worthy ruler than you”

She throws the crown away making it hit the wall  and break into a million pieces. The eight precious stones on the crown all crumbled and in pieces- it looked like the rainbow had fallen and broken down in the corner of the courtroom.

He gently smiled at this and guided her hand towards the knife on his side.

She closed her, a few tears rolling down her cheek, and her husband’s cold, pale blue hand comforting her- she pulled the knife out in one clean sweep.

A gasp was heard from her father resonating through the entire courtroom.

Slowly the red liquid oozing out of him turned to molten magma and seconds later, the king turned to stone on his daughter’s lap holding her hand and having his famed charming smirk plaster across his face.

The courtroom was soon filled with the tears and the broken cries of the people, yet she sat there focused on her dad’s hardened face and his hand no longer warm yet still holding onto hers.

Days passed, the king was buried, his tomb had a sculpture of him holding his hand out to whomsoever needed to hold it.

All four sides of the kingdom untied for this funeral and remained united after the funeral.

Years later, she runs around the palace after a youngling, who stops near the staircase and asks her - “ mother, who is that ? “ 

She answers proudly - “ that’s my father… your grandfather”

And in the mosaic at the landing where the staircase splits into two, her father knelt  in between , holding a giant sword , with the land below him, the sky above him, and fire and water on his either sides. There he knelt uniting the four kingdoms.

And there she stood across him, with a child in her arms and for the first time in centuries breaking traditions and rejecting the crown. She stood there not as a king or a queen, but as a guardian. 

A guardian of all being, the protector of the people and the saviour of the kingdom.

She knew then, that her father couldn't have loved her more and couldn't have been any more prouder than this.