Hayla The Fair
A child stares at me silently.
Her large gray eyes are wide, and curious as they roam across my body.
Blonde golden locks flow down her back in small waves, her rosy cheeks almost match the light pink stain applied to her small lips.
She was the picture of innocence, and I hated it.
I turned away from the mirror frowning, I was almost eighteen years of age, and I looked like l was still in need of a nanny to stay with me while my parents were out at night. I had tried it all to alter my appearance, but nothing would work, instead I looked like a silly child playing dress up.
My lips tugged upwards in thought of all the things I could do if I wasn't cursed with this body. If my face was slightly slimmer, my jaw more pronounced, my height taller, and my eyes thinner; I'd be respected. My father...even he, if I looked like that, stronger and wiser, would be proud.
I frowned, wishful thinking would do nothing for me, my father wouldn't have given a single damn if I was the strongest and most feared woman in the world, the sight of my gender itself would set him into a fit of rage.
My father was a powerful man, from a young age he had always known his potential surpassed growing up on a farm with his father, and herding cattle with his brothers. His arrogance and determination had gottten him further than anyone had thought, soon becoming one of the most respected generals in all of Arcadia. He had even given up that position due to the hunger gnawing at his stomach, telling him he could do more, be more.
He now owned all war training facilities, war weaponry, and basically every single soldier in Arcadia. His close ties to the King secured his fortune, and his past life of being a general came in use when he stepped in to correct training routines for war. He held a position on the King's board for coming up with or editing military plans, and even had the final say in Arcadia's trading partners.
In short, my father was a powerful man, and he expected nothing less than a powerful son, so imagine his surprise when a doe eyed blonde girl had come along instead.
The king-sized bed placed in the middle of the room gazed longingly at me, its thick bedsheets, and fluffy pillows seemed to promise me nothing but relief. I gazed at it for a second longer, before averting my eyes and walking to my bathroom.
I stared at the dark walls in defeat, every part of my room had been decorated with the intention of housing a king. My father had prepared my room long before I was born, and sometimes...when I stumble across a small toy train, or a small playing ball, my eyes would burn. I have always resented my father for the way he resented me, but small things like those reminded of what once was, and what once could have been.
My Mother, before she had passed, used to tell me tales of a young man who had fallen infatuated with an older woman. She had been twenty-six when she had given birth to me, and my father nineteen. Their relationship had been given stares of disapproval, but by the time their status was high enough for the comments to become a problem, they had already gained too much respect for such trivial gossip.
It hurt, it hurt because I knew my father had not hated me the moment I was born. There was a moment where his face had showed nothing but excitement and love, proud of his most prized accomplishment. Three simple words, three simple words were all it had taken to wipe his smile clean.
"It's a girl."
That had been that, his coldness and hatred for me had followed me to the night of my mother's death and had only intensified soon after.
I think he blamed me, and I couldn't fault him for that. The complications that soon followed after my birth had wrecked my mother's mind and body. She was always ill, and although her body had been present for a while, her mind never truly was. She never made me feel unloved, quite the opposite, but sometimes I'd catch her staring at me, eyebrows furrowed, eyes narrowed, and I knew then that she blamed me a little bit too.
I shook my head, these thoughts would always plague my mind, but today I had to be fully present. In two weeks' time it would be lily's birthday, and I was meant to be coming over to her house soon to help her plan.
Lily was my closest friend, I had known her for half my life. At first my father had disapproved of the relationship because her status was not what he deemed 'fit', but then her mother had divorced and remarried a noble man, Carl Arlington.
Arlington had been one of my fathers' higher ups when he had trained in the army, before becoming a commander. He had always been kind to him, and when my father moved up in ranks, even higher than him, he had been one of his only supporters. And for that, Arlington, out of all my father's business associates, was the closest things he considered a friend. Once he heard of his marriage, and lily's new status, he had accepted her quickly, even encouraging me to associate myself with her more often.
With one last look at the young girl who stared back dejectedly, I walked out my door, grabbing a fur coat that sat on my bed neatly.
I shivered, hunching my shoulders closer together as I walked the long empty hallways of the Novington manor. Winter had come to Arcadia a few weeks ago, and even all of my fathers riches could not fight against its unsympathetic frost.
As I continued to walk the marbled floors, I gazed upon the portraits of my father's accomplishments, even the odd painting of he and my mother happily smiling with me in the womb.
I slid my arms through the fur coat I had brought, my eyes now set on the double oakwood doors lined with what my father called Arabian gold. My feet sped up a little at the sight of them, eager to leave the ill chill of this manor, something that was not at the fault of the harsh winter.
I was close enough, the guards that usually lined the doors were off duty it seemed. My gloved hands reached out to grab onto one of the handles, the doors looked heavy and I had never actually opened them myself but surely it couldn't be too hard.
"Hayla, your father has requested you into his personal dining hall for tea." A woman's voice spoke far enough for a slight echo to ring the halls but close enough for me to jump in freight, startled by its prescence and unfamiliarity.
I turned quickly, turning my eyes towards the voice. A slender girl's pitch black eyes stared back at me, she couldn't have been more than a year older than me, but her slightly sunken figure, dressed up in a slightly too large thick black dress made her look like she had seen her fair share of time. The apron tied to her waist settled something in me, and my guard went down slightly.
She's just a housemaid.
"Hayla?" She raised an eyebrow, "Did you hear me?" She asked, tone slightly condescending.
I had never met this girl in my life, but something about her body posture and tone towards me suggested that she did not like me.
"Y-yes I'm sorry you just caught me...off guard." I replied softly, cursing myself inward for my stutter.
She stared back at me, still waiting, and her eyes looked like they were fighting themselves not to roll at me, her lips pursed downwards.
"Right...my father, you said he wanted to speak to me, did he say what for?"
She again did not speak, just continued to purse her lips at me and slowly narrow her eyes. For a housemaid, she truly did have courage to be acting like this towards me. Although I was anything but feared in this house, I was still respected by a majority of the workers here. After all I was his blood, and although my father's affection for me was limited, he surely wouldn't tolerate disrespect towards me by a mere worker.
I continued to stare at the girl, my gaze not narrowed but cold enough to cause her hesitance. I could tell by the twitching of her heels that she wanted to walk off, have me stumble to follow her, I would not have that.
"Thank you for delivering the message, you're dismissed now, you can get back to whatever your duties are for the day."
With that I walked forwards, brushing past her and towards my father's study, but not without seeing the sight of her eyes twitch and her fists clench in anger.
Maybe excreting dominance to a maid is not how I want to set a level of new respect for myself, but if I could not even do that, how would I ever earn the respect of my father's?