Ten years ago in the Royal Palace of the Jazwin Kingdom
The five-year-old girl darts from pillar to pillar. She is playing a game that she made up just now. Her opponents are anyone other than herself. The objective is to reach her father’s bedchamber without being caught. Her adversaries are the guards patrolling throughout the palace or the little girl’s caretakers who are desperately looking for her once they’ve realized she is missing (serves them right for taking their eyes off her for a minute in order to engage on idle gossip such as who is sleeping with who or which guards they think is the hottest).
The little girl hasn’t decided yet on the appropriate reward for reaching her objective. Maybe an extra slice of cake during dinner. Of course, the little girl always gets an extra slice of cake, but now she would feel she deserves it and won’t be feeling so guilty. Usually, the little girl would always have to demand or howl or throw a tantrum in order to get another slice. Her mother specifically told her caretakers not to let her eat more than one.
“It is bad for her body,” her mother would instruct the little girl’s caretakers. “She’s still growing and needs proper food in order to become strong.” The five-year-old girl is confused by this, how could something that taste so delicious in your mouth and makes your body feel good be bad for you?
From a young age, the little girl understood that her mother is an important person. She could tell because her mother has this talent of ordering people around. The little girl would sometimes overhear her mother giving out orders such as “send a detachment of soldiers to this narrow pass and hold it until reinforcements arrive” or “raze this town to the ground as payback for their incursion into our country” or “I want this fort taken over by next week or so help me gods I will have the commanders’ heads on a pike.”
And all the men who surround her mother as she points to a giant map on the table, intimidating men with scary scars on their faces, would nod their heads and carry out her will. To the little girl who watches unnoticed from the dark corner of the war room, the towering men in their imposing amors look like giants, and her mother is the titan who stands above them all.
Her mother also has this talent of speaking to the little girl without speaking to the little girl. Even though they are in the same room, she would look at the little girl’s caretakers without glancing at her own daughter once, telling them to watch what she eats or make sure she has enough rest or keep her as far away from her father’s bedchamber at all costs.
“I need her to be in her best condition before she starts training next year. I need to teach her how to survive men,” says her mother but this time to no one but herself, her eyes glazed over. “I need to teach her how to survive him,” her mother would murmur before leaving immediately for another war meeting, not noticing nor caring that her daughter has her arms stretched outright, waiting for a hug or a kiss on the forehead that would never come.
The little girl has many things that she doesn’t understand. But what she can’t understand most of all is why her mother and father sleep in different rooms, or why her parents’ bedchambers are situated far away in opposite direction from each other. The palace is large, and her mother’s bedchamber is located in one end and her father’s in the other.
Her father looks like a pleasant enough man, from the rare time the little girl could see him walking in the gardens or the hallways, always smiling and laughing and hugging the various women who surround him, women who are not her mother. The little girl has tried approaching her father and asking who his friends are, but her caretakers would always pick up the little girl carry her away. No matter how much the little girl protested or cried or begged, her caretakers would always reply that her father is a busy man and should not be disturb.
Maybe that’s why Mother is always sad all the time, the five-year-old girl thinks. She needs more hugs from Father in order to become sweet like a cake, the little girl continues to smile. Instead of being sour like the yucky vegetables the little girl is always forced to eat.
The little girl finally arrives near her father’s bedchamber. Two guards are posted outside in the hallway, which signals to the little girl that her father is indeed in his room. If the little girl needs further evidence, she could hear some noises coming out from inside the room. It looks like her father is doing some exercises like the sword training the guards do in the palace’s courtyard every morning.
The little girl slips unnoticed through a door in the hallway that leads to the outside balcony. The guards didn’t see her darting across the far corner of the hallway towards the door. Their eyes are too busy drilling imaginary holes on the wall directly opposite of them, all the while trying their best to ignore the sounds emanating from the room behind them or the painful erections caused by listening to it.
The little girl slowly closes the door behind her. The cool night air greets her skin, comforting her and calming down her beating heart, for the little girl knows she’s about to do something incredibly foolish. Something that would make her caretakers faint if they witness her doing it.
The little girl continues her journey on the balcony until she reaches the end of the walkway. There, she climbs over the railings and focuses on her objective. After taking a moment to steel herself, the little girl jumps, ignoring the darkness underneath her feet, not paying heed to the fact that if she were to fall or slip now, she would plummet eight stories down and break her little neck. No more slices of cake for her.
Either through luck or skill or divine intervention, the little girl manages to catch what she is aiming for, the railing to the balcony outside her father’s bedchamber. The little girl pulls herself over the railing and falls flat on the floor of the balcony. There she lies on her back, trying to recover her strength while the cool wind continues massaging her tired arms and pounding heart.
After a while, the little girl stands up and looks at the glass door that separates the balcony and her father’s bedchamber. She is suddenly hit with a realization that the door could be locked. The little girl curses for a brief moment before calming down and reasoning to herself that she could always knock on the glass door and asks her father to let her in. He wouldn’t let his five-year-old daughter be left out in the cold, would he?
As the little girl is about to tap on the glass door to announce her arrival to her father, she tries putting her hand on the handle. Amazingly, the handle turns and she is able to open the door. The little girl enters the room immediately before closing the door behind her.
Even though it is night time, her father didn’t switch on the mana crystals in his room. Fortunately, the little girl could see well enough thanks to the bright flames radiating from her father’s fireplace, bathing the whole room in an orange glow. As she continues stepping gingerly into her father’s room, the little girl sees a weird sight on her father’s bed. A half-dressed maid is currently sitting on her father’s lower half, and her father is hugging the maid from behind, moving in a rhythmic motion. The little girl tries to look away but she is strangely entranced by their movements and the odd moaning her father and the maid are currently making.
The maid looks up and suddenly yells in a surprised voice.
“My lord! There’s someone here in this room!”
The little girl’s father slightly pushes the maid aside in order to get a better view. He notices a little girl with golden flowing hair and green eyes standing unannounced in his bedchamber.
“Oh hello, sweetheart. Who are you and what are you doing here? You’re a bit young for my taste.” says the man without stopping his movement or being alarmed that someone who could have been an assassin has just entered his room.
“Oh crap. Are you one of my daughters? Haha. Nearly made a horrible mistake there.”
“My lord, stop… I’m not comfortable doing this in front of a child...”
“Would you be quiet for a moment? I’m trying to have a conversation with my daughter here.”
“Ahhh… my lord… no…”
“Father? What are you doing?”
“This? This is just a game adults play.”
“Can I play as well?”
“Unfortunately sweetheart, you’re not old enough to play it. And certainly not with me. The gods kinda frown down upon incestuous relationships between fathers and daughters.”
“Ahhh… my lord… stop moving…”
“Didn’t I tell you to be quiet? I’m in the middle of talking with my daughter. Incestuous is a rather big word and I don’t think you’re ready to understand it. But if you want you can ask your caretakers to explain it to you.”
“Ahhh… no… stop…”
“Is she in pain?”
“No, yes, maybe. It depends on your definition of pain. There are some pain that brings you pleasure, while there are some pain that brings you… pain.”
“Can I watch?”
“Of course, sweetheart. If that’s what you want. Just sit on a chair there and wait for a moment. Your father will be finish in a bit.”
“That’s a good girl.”
“Ahhh… my lord… this is wrong on so many levels.”
“You keep saying that. But didn’t your pussy clench tighter than ever before when you realized we were being watched?”
“Ahhh… but my lord… I think your dick suddenly got bigger as well…”
“Did I? Maybe I did. It looks like I’m turned on by voyeurism. You learn something new about yourself every day.”
“Ahhh… My lord… I’m about to come...”
“Good. My daughter is watching. Let’s put on a great display for her, shall we?”
“Ahhh… no my lord… stop pounding me… I beg you…”
“You may have not realized it, but I’ve stop moving for a while now.”
“What?” the maid exclaims in shock, her face frozen in a mixture of shame and surprise.
“You’re the one who’s still moving your hips back and forth like a dog in heat.”
“No… this is a misunderstanding…”
“How does it feel like? To know that deep down you’re actually a pervert?” the little girl’s father suddenly thrust his hips deep into the maid.
The maid doesn’t answer him. She could only scream in pleasure as her eyes rolled in their sockets and her mouth is wide open with the tongue sticking out. The little girl could see where her father is connected to the maid that something is leaking out.
Suddenly the maid sprays a clear liquid from her private parts. The little girl who is sitting across the room could almost feel the spray hitting her face. It seems the maid is peeing. The little girl knows that if she did something like that in her own room, her caretakers would be very crossed at her for wetting her bed.
The little girl could also see her father’s… short sword (she doesn’t know the proper term for that thing that men has, was it the word 'dick' like what that maid said earlier?) shooting a cream-like substances all over the maid’s lower half. After her father pulls his short sword from inside the maid, it continues shooting the hot and white cream like a hose the gardener used to water the flowers in the palace. Some of that white liquid lands across the floor between the little girl and her father.
Before the little girl realizes it, she has gotten down from the chair she has been sitting in and slowly moving towards the cream-like substance on the floor. The little girl’s breathing is haggard and her face is red. She can’t explain it but there’s a deep desire welling up inside her, forcing her to try and taste the thing lying splattered all over the floor.
The little girl puts out her outstretched hand to touch the stuff that her father had produced. She could feel the heat emanating from it. The little girl feels the sticky substance rolling on her fingers. She slowly moves her hand towards her mouth, wondering if it tastes just like the cream on the slices of cake she always has for dinner.
Before the little girl could find out, the door to her father’s bedchamber burst open. The little girl’s mother strides in like a warrior, ready for battle. She takes one look at the collapsed mess of sweat and ecstasy lying on the bed and her daughter who is half-crawling, half-sitting on the floor, about to put something in her mouth.
Without a word, the little girl’s mother swoops in and picks up her daughter, pulling the little girl’s hand away from her mouth in the process. The little girl nearly cries out from the pain of having her hand wrenched away but she chooses to keep quiet out of fear of causing more trouble for her father.
The girl’s mother turns and quickly walks out of the room, cradling her daughter in her arms. Although her mother is trying her best not to show it, the little girl could still see the expression on her mother’s face. It’s a mixture of shame, fury, sadness and envy.
Before the little girl could ask her mother any questions, they arrive outside the little girl’s bedroom. Her mother hands the little girl over to unfamiliar faces. The little girl doesn’t dare to ask where her old caretakers are. She is sent to bed without any dinner or even a slice of cake. The little girl doesn't cry even though she forces herself to sleep while cradling her empty stomach.
The next day, the little girl is brought by her mother out of the palace for the first time to a nearby training centre. There, the little girl’s mother orders the instructors to start giving her daughter lessons. She turns and leaves without so much as hearing a word of protests from the instructors that her daughter is still too young.
The little girl doesn’t cry as she watches her mother back disappearing out the door. Instead the little girl is quietly tying up her long golden hair into pigtails because she thinks it will be easier for her to move about and train using that hairstyle.
Synnove Ciro wakes up from her nostalgic dream with the sound of someone knocking on her door.
“Synnove, let’s go for dinner, it’s nearly 8 pm.” the fifteen-year-old girl could hear her best friend, Delyth Anatol, calling her from outside.
Synnove takes a moment to compose her thoughts before answering loudly so that her friend could hear her reply.
“You go on ahead. I think I’m skipping dinner tonight,”
“Are you sure?”
“Suit yourself, girl.” replies Delyth who is tired of trying to convince her best friend to resume any semblance of normal activity.
Synnove waited until she is sure her friend has left the corridor outside her room before getting up from her bed where she had taken a short nap just now. The third year student moves to a dressing table and begins preparing herself using a giant mirror there.
“Sorry Delyth, but I have a date tonight.” whispers Synnove as she puts on the final touches of makeup on her face. Before leaving, Synnove glances at the bed that she had slept in earlier.
Half of her bed is covered with various treasure her master has gifted her. The clothing her Master wore during his first day in school, she had secretly took those from the infirmary after Mistress Ricon had changed the boy out of them because they reek of vomit. The torn hospital gown the boy discarded before his duel yesterday afternoon. The various bandages that the boy had used which the maid kept after dressing and cleaning the boy’s wounds and injuries. The blood-soaked handkerchief Synnove used to wipe his master’s face clean after he bit his lower lips so hard it bled.
Synnove contemplates putting back those treasured items back in her secret hiding place but decided against it. She wants her bed to take in the boy’s scent. Synnove hums happily after locking the door to her room and leaving the building where only the elites of the elite female students are housed in. The fifteen-year-old girl is happy because her Master had kissed her on the lips this morning and promised to do several other things with her and to her at midnight.
The third year student continues to hum a happy melody as she melts into the darkness of the night, heading towards the rendezvous point nearly four hours earlier than promised.