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Pater

“We have an answer, your Grace! The Hatchets have responded!”

A young messenger dressed in ragged clothes ran behind a panicked valet through the refined halls of the Imperial Palace. He held a large box decorated with a red ribbon, a beautiful gift that he was given at the border of the Hatchet territory with the only order to deliver it as soon as possible. Many maids and workers made way for the two, trotting towards the throne room where the emperor was receiving his court.

The tall and imposing red doors slowly opened for them, a tense silence greeting them as the valet tried to contain his anxious face with a polite smile, devoid of sincerity. Hayden Miramond sat on his golden throne, his daughters at his side, and his court filling the space between the door and his grand seat. All turned their curious eyes to the worried valet and the messenger who was more interested in the package he was carrying than the people glancing at them with judgmental eyes.

“Wouldst thou truly want to make thy emperor wait? Come then, deliver to me the submission of this barbarian house.”

Small chuckles spread among the court. Hayden spoke with authority, a deep voice that resonated in the great throne hall, pushing the two men to swiftly walk to him. The court was filled with extravagant gowns and suits, faces painted with a pearly white powder, hair dyed blond or formidable high and ridiculous wigs honouring the emperor's legacy. Golden hair was a symbol of perfection, the colour of the noble metal bringing order in a grim world of chaos - maybe it was a sufficient reason for the nobles to not rebel, seeing in this family a chance to hold more power than ever before.

Arriving near the stairs, the valet bowed deeply, nearly folding in half, and spoke with a shaky voice.

“Your Grace. I shall open the package.”

“Not you,” interrupted the emperor with a cold voice. “Him,” he pointed at the tired and poor messenger who widened his eyes at these words. He bowed, and started to carefully open the package, unfolding the red ribbon delicately to not damage the gift.

A heavy silence followed, with curious people trying to catch a glimpse of the scene, wondering what the box could contain. Sitting next to her father, Margo looked at the gift with suspicious eyes, having never seen such regard in a message from the Hatchets.The house usually responded coldly with no care for proper etiquette, and the response was brief leaving no further discussion whatsoever - if they could respond with either “yes” or “no”, they would.

The messenger gulped once, a sudden fear taking over him as he prudently opened the lid. The second he removed the top, a foul smell spread rapidly around the hall, forcing people to cover their mouth and nose.

“What could possibly be-” started Eliza, tearing up from the putrid odour emanating from the box.

Margo stood up trying to get a closer look, as the messenger let out a cry of fright dropping the present on the floor. Rolled out of it dismembered arms and hands filled with maggots and dried blood. Eliza screamed in horror, as many others joined her witnessing the roughly chopped body rotting away before their eyes. The valet curled up in disgust, holding his mouth to prevent him from vomiting and Margo stood frozen in fear - this was the very first time she saw a dead body. A few women in the crowd fainted from the shock, bringing the assembly into a panic.

A soldier rushed to the box to examine more of its content, and pulled out a decapitated head missing its eyes, looking extremely pale; offended screams greeted his action, as all recoiled as far as they could from the box.

“The mole, your Grace!” he exclaimed.

“Put that away you fool!” Hayden retorted severely, rising from his seat. “Eliza my dear, get an escort back to your chambers… And open these damn windows you useless imbeciles!”

Maids and valets swiftly unlocked the grand windows in a desperate attempt to ventilate the great hall. The emperor faintly signed to get soldiers to escort his favourite daughter, and ordered that the court leave the hall in this instant. Cries and weeps slowly made their way out the hall, leaving a few people inside; only Margo remained, her father and the messenger as well as a few soldiers. A heavy silence reigned, and Hayden walked slowly to the tired man who was horrified and disgusted. The eyes of the emperor gazed at him coldly, seemingly unbothered by the maggots now crawling on the ground.

“I-I knew nothing, your Grace! The package was handed to me, I swear on my life! Have mercy!” pleaded the messenger desperately, kneeling down before the emperor.

Hayden stopped a few steps away from him, looking down at the poor man petrified to be accused of doing this purposely.

“I barely slept your Grace, only changed horses to deliver it as fast as I can… Solely stopped to drink or eat - I am begging thee, I know nothing of this!” he continued with a shaky voice.

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“Who handed you the package?” spoke the emperor sternly.

“A man, I did not see his face. He paid me handsomely.”

Hayden took the sword of one of the soldiers and threatened the messenger, who cried in fear.

“You remember nothing?”

“His cape covered his face, your Grace… But he had a scar on his right hand, I believe.”

The emperor smiled slightly, satisfied.

“Good. Mayhaps thou art not as foolish as it seems.”

The messenger was relieved, got teary and greatly thanked his saviour, kissing his boots. Tears rolled down his cheeks, and nothing in this world could have made him happier than this very moment.

Hayden pierced his skull in an instant. Blood instantly splurged on the ground and Margo let out a muffled cry, covering her mouth. The soldiers stood silently trying to process what happened, as the valet shook in fear, mumbling some prayers.

“Throw him to the hounds, and clean the floor right away,” commanded the emperor, pulling the sword out of the messenger’s head.

The few soldiers immediately obliged, some gathering the body parts and stuffing them back in the box, and others picking up the limp body of the poor man who got killed for a bit of money. Margo watched, frozen in place watching this surreal scene happening before her eyes. She knew her father was ruthless, but he coldly murdered that poor man just doing his work. He probably wanted this money to feed himself, or a family. Who knows. Yet everything ended with a simple swing of a sword.

“Margo.”

She jolted back, a worried look painted across her face. Her mind rushed to a million places, trying to think about all the mindless possibilities he could ask her, do to her or make her do things for his sake. Margo has always been casted to the side, giving the spotlight to her older siblings; she was the result of an unwanted pregnancy and therefore never received the love and care of her family. The Empress-Consort was nothing but a shell of what she once was after her birth, and her father disregarded her existence the moment she gasped for air for the first time.

Margo was afraid of her father, or more of what she will have to endure next to not be a bother. Will she end up with a sword piercing through her head too? Or will he send her to rot away in her chambers once again until she tries to escape for god knows how many times?

Hayden lowered his gaze from her frightened face to slowly walk away towards the grand doors.

“Throw her to the oubliettes.”

The valet looked at him with shock.

“But your Grace, she will turn three and twenty in two days…”

“It matters not,” Hayden replied coldly. “I’ve tried marrying her more than once but even then Lords refuse to take her hand - or they would if she wore a mask to hide her grotesque face.”

Soldiers dropped the rotting corpse rushing to Margo seizing her while she was frozen in shock, unable to fight back. She was aware that her father never acknowledged her, but sending her to die was beyond what she was expecting. Here she was, going to be thrown in a ditch narrow enough for one standing adult with the only source of light being a trap high above her. Even her screams won’t ever reach the surface, for her prison will be far below the earth. Tears welled up in her eyes, as a sensation of injustice washed over her. Margo has never asked to be born, and yet all hated her for it. Why was her life so unfair and miserable, when she never wished to be here? Why her? She felt a lump in her throat as the soldiers tied her hands behind her back.

A grumbling rage rose up from her stomach. She grinned her teeth in anger and tears flowed out. Margo could feel her heart pumping harder in her chest, her blood boiled in fury as her breath ran short.

“Why so late, father?” she yelled out across the hall, taking the few men present by surprise. “Why only throw me now to my death when you could’ve choked me as a newborn? Why let me eat, sleep, and grow up just for me to feel abandoned and unwanted?”

Hayden stopped in his tracks, listening to her rant. Her voice was breaking and growling like an animal, while her brown eyes had narrowed in anger.

“I loathe you,” she barked, a voice daring for him to reciprocate her wrath. The Emperor glanced back, not bothering to even turn around to face her, and answered in a disinterested voice.

“And I do not hate you.” Margo widened her eyes at his words. “How could I, when you were nothing to begin with?”

Silence. Margo’s face turned to distress.

“What-” she murmured.

Hayden looked away. “I thought I could send you away once you first bled to some hungry noble for young flesh, but it turns out you never did. You can’t even do what a woman is born for,” he chuckled, as he walked once again towards the door. “From this moment on, you ceased being my daughter. Even a pig has more value than you.”

She watched as her own father exited the room in silence. The valet looked at her with pity but refused to speak, for it was not his place. Even the soldiers behind her were startled by the conversation. Margo dropped her head, defeated. Yet within her, a deep fury was fueling her thoughts, screeching in her mind words of death and revenge. So be it, she thought, I shall show you all how loud a pig can squeal.

“Well take me then!” she said sharply.

The soldiers holding her started marching forward, dragging her down the stairs, as the valet watched powerless. His eyes met with hers on her way out, and, ashamed, he looked away. When the doors closed behind them, the man was left with a rotting corpse and a fresh one wondering how he was going to find sleep tonight.