Meeting His Match (Ouat FF)

Meeting His Match (Ouat FF)- A Feeling Not Felt Before Part 2

Young ten year old Natalie was in the kitchen, sweeping the floor while her father was at the local tavern. Her mother had passed away not long after her grandmother and little sister. So, Nate was stuck with her abusive, drunk of a father.

Her father came strolling in from the front door, a cup of rum in his hands, swaying drunkenly. Natalie tried her best to remain calm and natural, for if she showed any sign of distress, her father would not go to bed.

Unfortunately, he did notice the little ten year old's nervous sweeping and smirked, staggering over. She stiffened as she heard him walked over, but yelped in pain as he grabbed her hair and threw her across the cottage, making her hit a wall. She groaned, sitting up and feeling the side of her face, to feel a giant gash there, blood streaming out. She turned when she heard the stomp of her father's boots.

"Where are you going, Sweetheart?" he hissed, his accent strong as he kicked her in the stomach, making her fall over again.

She coughed, blood running from her mouth, making her father smirk and lift her by her arm roughly, spitting in the girl's face.

"Why did you do it?! Huh, Wench?! Why?! Why kill your grandmother and your sister?! Your sister!" he yelled, making the girl cry.

But not from pain or sadness, but from anger.

"You deserve to meet your grandfather in hell!" he hissed, dropping her to the floor and walking to the kitchen table, grabbing a steak knife and walking towards her.

She huffed, not meeting his eyes.

"No..."

He looked at her in surprise and anger, narrowing his eyes at her. "What did you say?!" he hissed.

She huffed, and huffed, looking up at him so he only so her lips, her eyes completely covered by her hair like a hood.

"I don't deserve to meet him in hell," she said, her accent thick as she stood and look at her father with an evil glint in her eyes.

"You do," she hissed, her British accent gone as she made the knife appear in her hand, and threw it at him, the knife landing perfectly in the center of his stomach.

He gasped in pain, falling backward as she walked toward him, kneeling down to the drunk man. He coughed, glaring at the girl.

"You will.... g-go to h-hell..." he stuttered, his breathe shortening.

She smirked, leaning down and grabbing the handle of the knife.

"I'll see you there, Father," she hisses, her accent no longer existent as she pushed the knife deeper, killing his quickly.

She stood, an emotionless expression on her face as she got up and walked out of the cottage. But not before walking to her grandmother's closet to see her old cloak like dresses for when her grandmother was young. She was too small for them now but she would grow into them.

Her grandmother was Kahlan Amnell.

ROGUE'S DREAM/FLASHBACK OVER

Rogue sat upright abruptly, wincing as the pain in her arms sharpened. She looked around the cave just as Peter walked in with a bag in his hands. He saw her and quickly jogged over, putting the bag by the fire and laying her back down.

"Lay down, you need to rest or you'll never get better," he said, quite concerned as he grabbed the bag and dragged it over to Rogue.

Rogue chuckled, making Peter look up at her from the bag.