One would think I was used to bad sleep, being in the Queensguard and all, but no. Hard floors and the smell of horse shit as I dreamed of better days ahead was normal to me, a soft bed not so much. I didn’t even have as nice a bed in my childhood home.

I found myself this morning on the floor, half covered by the thick blanket I must've pulled off the bed with me. My head felt heavy as I stared up at the ceiling, the soft light from the window allowing me enough light to see the grain in the wood. I felt a dim ache in my side still, and I pressed my hand to it, attempting to ease the pain.

I was quickly pulled out of my trance as a knock sounded on the door. I lifted myself onto my arms as a maid walked in with a handful of clean sheets. She glanced at the bed I was currently not occupying, but didn’t seem to pay any mind. Before I could speak, she handed me a piece of paper.

I sat up, taking it from her as if it was going to bite me. A small, curt smile formed on her lips before she walked past me to the bed, and began changing the sheets. I ran my thumb over the wax seal on the paper, the stamp made to look like a crown. Hesitation washed over me. The maid began to pick up the blanket that now only lay over my left leg, “May I take this from you, ma’am?”

I grabbed the blanket as she began to pull it up, “Do you know what this note is about?” I stared into her, panic clouding mine. She had no expression on her face, and for a moment I wondered if she even had heard me.

“No ma'am.” Was all she said before she pulled the blanket and walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her. Silence once again fell on the room, and I could hear my own heartbeat.

I decided to quickly just rip it open and read it.

Marion,

Your commander awaits you in the throne room.

Best not to keep him waiting.

Your royal highness,

Queen Graelin.

I stood up, my eyes glued to the paper in my hand. I couldn’t think, or move, or hell even breathe. I was stuck. Maybe If I just stood here until the end of time, I would never have to face him. The maids could just clean around me, dust me off from time to time.

An eternity passed before I gently laid the paper onto the wooden desk beside me, and I began getting dressed. My hands shook as I grabbed a pair of pants to change into, and I took a moment to relax my body.

I straightened my tunic out, and pulled on my boots. I stared at myself in the mirror, not recognizing the girl looking back. I decided to leave my hair down. My commander was always very stern and certain when it came to how his knights presented themselves. We had to be clean, especially if we were in the presence of royalty or anyone of importance. Women must have their hair up, it didn’t matter how. Men must always have their hair short. Leaving my hair down was a simple act of defiance, but I knew today was the last day I would ever be defiant as his subordinate.

The walk to the throne room felt too short, and my hand rested on the throne room door. The coldness of the iron and steel sent a chill down my spine, but it was a welcome feeling, a distraction of my nerves that were eating me alive.

I pushed the door open with nearly all my strength and I entered the throne room. My footsteps echoed as I slowly crept into the throne room, searching for Commander Ulric. I gazed up at the vaulted ceilings, white pristine marble that was currently an array of colors from the pointed stained glass windows was unlike anything I had ever seen. The air was cold and still, and my eyes darted to the tall pillars that lined the room, expecting Commander Ulric to appear any moment.

“Marion.” I whipped my head around to the voice that appeared behind me, and Commander Ulric stood. He was a hard looking man, bald with a peppery beard. His skin was scarred and full of sun spots. Fennix used to always say that he had a wrinkle for every rule he had. Commander Ulric didn’t find Fennix’s comment funny, and it got us an entire month worth of scraps for supper.

I bowed as quickly as I heard my name, “Commander Ulric, sir.” I stood back up pin straight, my arms flat to my sides. He began to walk towards me, his armor clinking with each step. He was silent as he hit me straight in the stomach with the scroll he held in his hand, and in an instant I knew what it was.

I had only seen it once before. Most times, when people are absolved from the Queensguard, they leave with a serious injury, or die in front of everybody else to make a statement. A scroll was a sort of mercy, only given if death was too easy for the punishment.

Flashes of me on the ground flooded my mind. My side began to hurt as if I were under the horse again. I gripped the scroll with white knuckles. “You have here been absolved from the Queensguard.”

His words felt like a punch in the gut, and the only thing I could do in the moment was nod. His deep voice began again, each word cold and calculated, as if he had rehearsed the whole thing a million times before for this once specific instance. “You shall leave your station, and never return.”

I nodded again, fighting back the tears that pricked the corner of my eyes. He gripped my upper arm with a force that shocked me, his chainmail cold. “You have embarrassed not only me, but all of your comrades. You are the scum of this world.” His words dripped with cruelty as he said them.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

With a final nod, he let go of my arm. He stepped, now in front of me. I stared into his dark eyes, but it felt as if nothing or no one stared back. His eyes were dead. “Do you understand me, Creed?”

“Yes sir.” Was all I managed, my voice breaking as the words left my mouth.

My entire world came crashing down on me, and it felt like someone was playing some cruel joke. I feel more distraught than I did when I left home, when I left Annora and my father. This life I had chosen for myself was ripped away from me. I had no chance of getting it back.

“Good.”

I watched as Commander Ulric walked towards the door, the sound of his armor echoing off of the walls, a sick reminder of what I’ll never be able to have. I fell to my knees, clutching the scroll so tightly to myself, wishing it out of existence. I screamed as I threw the scroll across the room, hitting one of the pillars. It barely made a sound as it hit the floor. I stared at the scroll, now half opened.

I ran through the halls of the castle, tears clouding my vision. Many maids tried to stop me as I pushed through them, trying to remember where I had just slept. I eventually made it, and I slammed my door. I was sure my wails could be heard nearly a hundred miles in each direction, but it didn’t matter. I picked up the desk chair and threw it against the door, watching it splinter and shatter as it hit the floor.

One of the legs of the chair hit my foot as it shattered, I leaned down to pick it up. It was a nearly perfect point, splinters of wood jagged along the sides of it.

My mind raced, and I could only think clearly think of one thing in this very moment; my father. It was sort of cynical, both of our lives being ruined by a damn horse. I was lucky at least, wearing armor as I got trampled. He was not.

The day he got injured plays in my mind on occasion, for a good few months after I remembered the sound of Annoras desperate cries. I remember the smell of his blood, and my sorry attempt at trying to hold his leg in place, the feeling of his bone against my skin. My father was bedridden for a while after that day, and after he could finally stand again, it was never for long.

I gripped the sharp piece of wood in my hand, and I swung open the door, rushing into the hallway. My eyes darted, looking for any clues as to how to get outside. The long hallways feel almost maze-like, as if they have no end.

My blood was boiling as I stomped through the halls, my hand gripping the wooden stake, Anger was clouding all of my thoughts, and I wanted to see the stark white horse that trampled me covered in its own blood. It ruined my life, took away any future I had. I knew I was going to end the sorry beast.

I eventually make it to the gardens, and in the distance I see the horse stables. I creep to the entrance, my back flush against the wall as I listen for anyone inside the stables. The occasional huff of one of the horses interrupts the silence. I peek inside, not seeing anyone. My eyes scan the whole building, and I finally lay eyes on the bright, clean white horse.

I stand before the creature, and he stands almost completely still. The horse snorts, pushing warm air onto my hand. I raise the sharp piece of wood to its neck, and I use my other hand to wipe away the tears streaming down my face.

This creature ruined my entire life. I should want to kill it, to make it feel the same pain I feel. The horse snorts again, rearing its head back in caution. I lower the stake, throwing it onto the ground beside my feet. My hands reach for the reins, and I slowly pull its head down, patting the side of its neck. “You damned thing.” My eyes burn, and I throw my head back, wishing the tears would stop.

“You took everything from me, and it wasn’t even your fault,” The stallion pushed its head into my shoulder, nudging me to keep patting him. “I’m sorry I feel beneath you.” I whispered. His black eyes seemed to look through me, and I felt a tinge of sadness that he would never know how guilty I feel for the whole ordeal.

I kick the stake aside and decide to calm myself by walking through the castle gardens. The snow crunched gently beneath my feet, and the garden was mostly empty. A few hedges cut to look like rabbits seemed to be the only thing alive in the winter air. I gazed up at them, admiring how well they were taken care of. A few minutes passed as I walked between the hedges before one of the gardeners walked up to me.

He was old, but had a genuine and kind smile. “Are you enjoying the garden?” He asked me, clasping his hands in front of himself.

“Yes, I would love to see it in full bloom though.” I say, smiling back at him. I was never one for idle conversation, as Fennix was very easy to talk to. But it felt nice talking to someone who wasn’t royalty, or someone who wasn’t Commander Ulric.

“I have big plans for the garden this spring, I can’t wait for you to see it.” He said, pointing to the flower beds that are currently covered by snow.

“I’m sure it’ll be very beautiful, sir.” I push my hair back, a little embarrassed. My face felt puffy from all the crying, and I was nervous he could tell I had been crying.

He gave me a small pat on my upper arm, “You can come visit the garden anytime you like.” He began humming as he walked away, picking up a pair of hedge trimmers and heading to a small shed nearby.

I appreciated his comment, but it made me wonder just how long I’ll be in the castle. It’s already been almost a week now, and I still don’t know or understand why I haven’t been kicked back onto the streets. I stood a while longer and pondered, then slowly made my way back to my room.

I took my time walking through the halls, admiring the paintings hung up. I assumed they were of all the past royals and their families that lived here, but I wasn’t exactly sure. The halls were all paneled with dark mahogany wood, with one side being nearly all windows. The light that shone through created a soft orange glow, and the whole place was pristine. My time here so far hasn’t allowed much exploring, but I enjoy looking at all the various art and trinkets that sat on pedestals and tables lined against the wall.

I finally reach my room, pushing open my door begrudgingly, but when I step in the chair I broke has been cleared away, and another one has taken its place. I’ll profusely apologize to the maids tomorrow for making such a mess. I close the door behind me, and I run my hand over where I smashed the chair against it. It was scratched, a few indents too. I silently curse at myself for being an ass, and I walk to the bed.

On my bed sat a tray with a bright silver serving dish. I opened the lid, and a bowl of stew with some bread sat beneath it, still steaming. My mouth watered at the smell, and I hurriedly took off my boots in order to dig in. It wasn’t too long after I finished that my puffy eyes started to feel heavy, and I accepted the feeling, slipping into sleepwear and curling up into bed.

I picked at my fingers nervously as I shut my eyes, sighing as I did so. Exhaustion swept over me, and I thought about how I would fill my day tomorrow, or if I was expected to leave in the morning. I hugged my arms tightly, finally drifting off to sleep.