kajsa ㅇㅅㅇ

Chapter 1

This window is my only sanctuary. 

The sky is dark and unfeeling, glaring at the glacial winds that rattle gates and wagon wheels, sending squirrels skittering to the comfort of a nest. I watch silently as the sky’s tears emphatically smack the cold panes, dribbling down the glass like blood. It’s been nothing but freezing rain for days, threatening to slick down our cobbled streets or ice over door hinges, but never cold enough to snow.

And thus begins our fleeting Elysian summer. 

Inwardly sighing, I turn away from the Big Window, brushing tendrils of my long red hair out of my eyes. I’m already late for Training, and the punishment will only get worse the longer I wait. 

Tarkien is not particularly patient, or understanding. And then he goes and wonders why we prefer Hawke. 

Not bothering to change out of my morning clothes, I scramble downstairs to the kitchens to snag a hot biscuit for the walk to Eidshire’s barracks. The servants freeze up when they see me, straightening their clothes and their posture, but I dismiss their formalities with a wave of my hand and a smile. I’m down here often enough to know most of the servants better than I know the lords and ladies of my own court.

“Mrs. Farr?” My voice carries even through the clatter of pots and pans. A stout woman with frizzy orange hair and bushy eyebrows jumps. “Hadley, is that you?” Her thick accent drops most of the consonants and smashes the words together, something most nobles would wrinkle their little noses at.

She whirls around to look me in the face, startled to see that it really is me. “Heavens, child! What do you want at this hour? I’m busy. And–why haven't you changed?” She goes on muttering about how lucky it is that Turner was born before me, that someone sensible and put-together should lead the country. But she gives me a biscuit nonetheless, slathered with a little extra butter, before promptly kicking me out of her kitchen. “Heaven help my soul! There you are, child. Now scram before Tarkien butchers your classmates!”

“Thank you, Mrs. Farr,” I call over my shoulder, my words muffled by an undignified bite of hot, flaky goodness.