Blood dripped down her sore knuckles, washed away by the cold rain. Monson season had started in Patun, it could be weeks before they would get to see the sun again. Which meant that training would be even more torturous than usual. If it hadn't been hard enough already. She was soaked to her bones. The sword felt heavy in her hold. The leather bindings weren't enough to keep it from slipping through her fingers. Her arms were so sore that she wished she could just get rid of them entirely. She wasn't skilled in fighting, and no amount of training would change that. How was she supposed to compete with this monster? She sat on the ground covered in dirt, trying to find the energy to get up. Behind the glint of the sword, she saw the furious face of the monster- her mother. 

"Get up!" her mother yelled. Voice laced with annoyance, maybe disappointment. No, always a disappointment. There was not one once of warrior talent in her. 

Her mother's nerves were as hard as steel. Otherwise, she would have given up training her a long time ago. It had been hours since they started training. Her small body ached. Under the dirt, she was surely covered in bruises. Tomorrow, her body would ache worse than it did today. She was never good enough. The sword didn't seem to agree with her petite form. Neither did archery or knife throwing. She was too clumsy. Hand-to-hand combat was better, but her attacks were never strong enough…she didn't like to fight. The feeling of flesh colliding with flesh made her shudder. You have to hit through the target, her mother would constantly yell. 

She was what her mother called pathetic, but she liked to call herself by another term; she was a pacifist. It didn't matter how good her form was when there was no strength behind it. There were other things she was talented in. She was well-read, could use a bow and arrow, and had an affinity for magic, which her mother liked to ignore. 

Slowly, she rose up against all odds. Getting into position, she grasped the handle with all her strength. Her arms shook violently. Taking a deep breath, she tried to steady the shaking.  

"Attack," her mother didn't shift her form. It didn't matter because a few moments later, she would find herself back on the ground. She was a monster. There was no way the woman was a human.

 Lifting the sword, she advanced. Her mother effortlessly countering her attacks. Their swords clashed. Her mother pushed down pushing her back against slippery mud. Heals dug into softened dirt. She gritted her teeth trying to ignore the pain of her muscles as she tried to hold her ground. Then she was down again. Once more looking up at those icy eyes. The same color as her own eyes. 

Her mother sighed. She sheathed her sword, looking down at her with an expression she could never truly understand. "You can go wash off; we will continue tomorrow."

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Once again, she had failed.

 xxx

Angelica sat down on one of the chairs across from Joseph. She had washed up and changed. Her daughter had long fallen asleep after a long day of training. Was there no hope of protecting this child? She wondered. Freya was still young. Maybe there was time for her to progress…no, she was subpar at everything she had been taught. They had started training when she was only six. Now, at twelve, she had barely improved. How would brain smarts protect her when thier threat was physical. They did not have the luxury of waiting for progress as much as she had wanted a different life for them. Any day now, they could come. Maybe it wouldn't be for another few years, but maybe they could come tomorrow, and then…

"Angelica, you are too harsh on her. She's still a child," Joseph, the previous captain of the royal guards, the biggest betrayer of King Vladi muttered. He had been with them from the very start. From the moment they were ushered out of the castle those many years ago. Coming and going to scout out new information. 

"She's too weak. If…no, when they come, she won't be able to protect herself," she ran a hand through her hair. "There is no escaping her blood. Eventually, someone will come for her, either to hurt her or to bring her back to Rus…truthfully, I am not harsh enough."

Joseph sighed, "She will soon start to develop. It will be harder to hide that she is a girl."

"That's not as much of a problem as her safety," she replied. It was true. Freya was almost twelve. Any day now, she would start her first bleed. Her breasts would bud, and her body would take on a more feminine form. They could hide it with loose clothing. If it came to that, they could bind her breasts. All she wanted was a few more years with her daughter. A few more years of safety was all that she prayed for. 

"Have you considered allowing her to learn to control her magic?" Joseph asked. 

She grimaced, it was true, she had magic. It ran through her blood, But what magic? Magic inherited by the Velrven family, or did she inherit his magic? That man. What a pitiful monarch he had been. Abusing his power over her. So weak when his heritage was so strong…How would his blood affect Freya? If she had come to inherit the first king's magic, it was too great of a risk to experiment with. They had no mages to guide her. If she did inherit the old monarchs' powers... there was a chance it could kill her. Freeze her heart over…few of the monarch's children survived because of this. The old monarch had only survived because of how weak his powers were. They could only hope that Freya would follow the same path. 

"No," she sighed. "It's too risky."

  Joseph nodded, "You are right. We don't want to kill her accidentally, but it might be her only hope of survival." He fell silent for a moment.

"We should focus on ranged weapons. She is too weak to stand against someone in close combat, but that distance could give her an advantage." 

"We need something that could be light enough for her to use," she pondered out loud. Joseph hummed in agreement. "We will focus on archery and hand to hand combat. The sword is far too heavy for her, and she lacks the enthusiasm."