Thirty Five

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No longer will I allow myself to be conned into thinking that this man is worthy to call himself King or father. He was awful at both and I will let him know that by coating my fists in his blood.

He has done everything in his power to not make me acknowledge him as a father. I had strengths and ignoring this man was one of them, but I could not ignore it when it came to her. She was a weakness that I could not be cured of.

When I found all of those men lifeless I had lost every ounce of reason. My behemoth took over and no one was safe. The blood that clung to my clothes were that of soldiers not criminals. 'Gaul' wanted blood and since our father had ripped the satisfying task of interrogating and killing the peasants who touched Estelle...the soldiers were the next victims.

It was not bad enough that I failed Estelle once, but I could not even bring justice to her name by killing those bastards. Then to see the one I call father, caressing her cheek that was bathed in the blood of what was supposed to be my kills.

My father needed to learn his place and I was eager to teach him his lesson.

"What are you waiting for, my King?" I spat, watching as he began to pull at his shirt, discarding it to the ground.

Kill. Yes.

I would not kill him, but pummel him until he was on the brink of death. Let him know that I have the power to end his life, and then let him live in sorrow of that knowledge.

"You will learn why I am called King and you a glorified servant, boy!" He snarled. His teeth began to elongate and the old skin of his began to morph into darkening scales.

"Loche do not do this! Tis not worth it!" Her voice sent a shiver down my spine. Momentarily calming down my raging self...but she would not stop me now. It was much too late.

Little fae sad.

I could smell the scent of tears and knew it was Estelle. My eyes slid to where she stood. Iona had a hold on her while Alazar was holding up a pale Juniper. "Watch out!"

The feeling of air hitting my face, made me instantly duck as my eyes quickly adjusted to what was happening. The old bastard had started. His claws caught the end of my chin, drawing blood as I drew back quickly, my hands going up in defense.

He had a crazed look to his eyes, due to his behemoth peeking out. I thought my own behemoth was entirely too primal but my fathers seemed not of this world.

I pulled out my dagger, a look of disgust to his eyes when he saw it. "You weak boy! Cannot even fight me with your fists!"

A chuckle rose to my lips as I began to swing wildly at him, slowly but surely backing him into a corner. "I can fight you with my fists, but I want to draw as much blood as possible first," I spat, finding an opening to dig the dagger into his shoulder. I wanted to weaken him physically how he weakened me for most of my life with words and fists.

As I shoved the weapon deeper into his wound and turned it, his head swung into mine, causing me to almost lose my balance and stagger back. His claws went for my eyes as I ducked and yanked with all of my might on my dagger.

It was pulled out with a slight ease as pain enveloped one side of my face. His fists connected with my left side. I remained in place, the blow doing nothing to soften the deep cuts I was making to his body.

"Enough of this!" He roared, as I noticed I was cutting at his arms and a few good slashes to his pathetic face. He suddenly barreled into me, knocking me to the ground and the dagger right along with it.

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