The Future Queen

Big Bad Meanie

The servants exit took me to the store room of the kitchens. It probably existed for servants to have quick access to food that the nobles would pig themselves out on.
That thought made me equally as disgusted as it did hungry, so i grabbed half a baguette on my way past. No one was ever in the kitchens this late, but i stuck to the shadows just in case.

The hood did little to protect my face from the biting chill of the wind, so i hurriedly shoved as much bread as i could in my mouth and took my time to fix my cover over my nose and chin, blocking the worst of the wind. I had a fairly long way to run in order to get to the group on time, which (if my back didnt sting like the burning of a thousand suns) i would usually welcome as good training but today i wished i could shadow jump like some of the fae can. For it would cut the time and effort in half, if not more.

Panting, i finally arrived at the entrance to the woods that the group trained at. Bracing my hands on my knees, i steadied my breathing and stretched my back, pulling on the cuts and inducing a sharp stinging. Once it had calmed, i allowed the rock piles to guide me to the others.
I had been meeting with them for the past year, their locations moving sporadically depending on the level of guard threat nearby.

A small body flung itself onto me, followed by a muffled "Zip, im so glad you're here. Atlas is making me do press ups again."
Zip was the name i went by here, i had found their group a few weeks before i decided to make my presence known and when asked my name i chose to honour the name my little brother used to call me (he wasnt very good at s or b sounds so he decided he preferred zip over sib).
"I was only making him do press ups because he said, and i quote, i 'punch like a 2 year old'"
Atlas was one of the best fighters here, not to mention attractive (for a blonde), but i pretend to be blind to such things.
"wow didnt know you were so sensitive Atlas, its ok, Oliver. The big bad meanie was just being touchy. You dont have to do any more pressups." I pried Olivers little arms off my hips and gave Atlas a death stare, whispering."You do punch like a 2 year old."
I wish i had that live sketcher that did my drawing a few weeks ago because the face Atlas made was worthy of hanging in a few museums. I think i would title it: "sensitive little bitch." That way, it would be factual. I would never tell a lie.

"Why are you always so out of breath when you arrive, you only live in Marsey?"
Very perceptive Atlas.
"Ran around the town a few times to warm up." ok, so that was a lie. Lying is my weapon. If it were a sword, I am the equivalent of someone stood in an empty room madly waving a sword around. I lie constantly and alot of the time ti myself. But in my defence, they can't know who I am, or they would probably kill me.

I was everything they stood against, a royal and related to my poor excuse of a father (and even poorer excuse of a king).

But they were everything I stood against, too. Bad fighters wasting their time training the same manouvers and coming up with silly little plans that backfire. I trained with them for the excersise and so i could keep a close eye on their work. After all, they played a part in the death of my mother and little brother. I vowed to make them pay.

"You have a death wish." Oliver giggled, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the clearing where everyone was training.

Having some exercise and a small amount of training wasnt the only perk of being here. I struggled not to stare pointedly at the many shirtless men that sparred in front of me. It was a heavenly sight that i would tuck away and think of another time. If i gaped now, it would only lead to exploding egos and an incessant amount of bullying from Elia, the only other girl willing to train with these godly dickheads.

I walked over to the makeshift weapons tent where the hushed conversations stopped upon my entry. I've only been with this so-called rebellion group for around a year, im yet to gain their trust. It doesn't help that i refuse to take my face covering off. Or that i go by a fake name, but they dont know that.

I exchanged nods with the huddle, a small sign of respect from them and me basically saying,'i get you have to shut up because of me and I'll leave really quick so you can carry on'.

In following my non-verbal agreement, I hung up my cloak, picked up a sword i deemed adequate, and walked as fast as i could away from the tent.

The whispers resumed almost immediately after i left. The only words i caught were birthday and commitment. It would be hopeful to assume that they were just planning a surprise birthday party for someone.

I was adjusting my face covering when Elia ran up to me.
"Oh my , oh my god , ZIP."
she's being dramatic. i saw her yesterday night.
"Please, can you stay over here. There's too much testosterone in one place i can't handle it."
I rolled my eyes
"You could handle it the other week when you used one of these said testosterone filled males to fill you"
her hand whacked over my mouth, and she looked around us as if I'd just screamed bloody murder.
whispering now, she informed me that it was a one-off and no one was supposed to know about it.
"Well I know, and I won't let you forget it, if only you would tell me who it was... maybe if i start asking around, someone will know."

"Zip, i swear to the gods. If you do that, i will kill you in the most horrific way and bury you where no one will find you."
A short ginger man jogged past and winked at Elia before pausing his jog to heave up his guts in a bush.
I raised my eyebrows.
"DROP IT ZIP."
"Oh, so it was him then such a... charming man. Wink and a vomit very flirtatious, I approve. "
"No, it was -"

"Evening ladies."