I fucking hate my life. I know I started all happy, but that was when I was five and could content myself with simple things. Now, I’m fifteen, turning sixteen in a week, and I don’t want to be in this fucking castle for a second longer. But don’t worry. I’ll fill you in on the past eleven years so you’ll understand where I’m coming from.

Let’s start with my magic. I unlocked my magic potential at age five, and a few weeks after that, my father got my affinities appraised. In the realm of magic, there are six affinities that a person can have. They are born with those affinities, and they can not be changed. The affinities are water, earth, air, fire, dark, and light. Most people will have no more than two affinities. Those are just the people who can use magic. In special cases, like every one-in-a-million, there will be a person with three affinities. But most people will only have one or two.

I have four. Let that sink in for a moment. I’m more unique than the most unique spell caster. My affinities are water, earth, air, and a new affinity no one can identify! They don’t even have a name for my affinity, making it brand new. But I have a name for it. I call it Force Affinity. I can feel it strengthen my body at will and increase my reflexes, so I move and think faster than most people, and it’s why I can now see in black and white, even though I’m still technically blind. The affinity gives me a three-sixty view of my surroundings and has only grown with time. I used to see in a two-meter radius from where I stood, but now I can see up to six meters from where ever I stand.

Now that all sounds good, right? Wrong. Since I am such a unique case, my father refuses to get me a magic tutor and wants me to pass along my genes and sire him a grandchild. First off, no. Secondly, his other reason is that it would be pointless to teach me magic since it requires incantations, and I can’t fucking speak!! So, yeah, I fucking hate my life, I hate my father, and I want to leave the castle. But oh no, I might get attacked by bandits and lose my flower, whatever the fuck that means. So, I haven’t even been allowed off the castle grounds.

My life is bullshit and full of pointless blathering! But despite what my father said, I decided to try and learn magic myself. And to my surprise, I had quite a lot of success. One night I snuck out of a party my father was throwing for my tenth birthday. There were a bunch of nobles I didn’t care to meet, so I snuck out. Knowing I had an affinity for earth magic, I snuck out to the garden and found a small pebble. If what I heard from the maids, I have to feel the magic flow through me to cast a spell.

So I picked up the pebble and focused on the magic within me. It was easy to do since I had no sight. I could quickly feel it and concentrated on making the rock float on my hand. It didn’t work. So, I tried again, and again, and again. No luck at all. I threw the rock down in frustration, and a pillar of stone shot up in front of me. That’s when I realized I needed to use my body to cast the spell. If I wanted to make a pillar, stomp a foot. If I wanted to make water levitate, I just had to make a massaging motion with my fingers. It took a lot of late nights of practice, but I got very good at using magic after that, and it sculpted my body with well-toned muscles, which I liked a lot.

And that’s when I learned something else about magic. The more you use it, the stronger it gets. My magic was incredibly strong by age eleven because of my force affinity. Since it was always working, I was able to amass a lot of power. I kept this secret from my father since he would worry or outright forbid me from using magic again.

Now that you know all that, I’ll skip to the present day, one week before my sixteenth birthday. It is the coming-of-age birthday unveiling where noblemen can ask for my hand in marriage. Yeah, like that would happen. But my father has hope and has asked me to his office to discuss that very thing.

I walked down the castle halls with my maid Hildegarden following me. I no longer needed my cane and walked confidently down the hall without issue. The halls had pictures in frames all along the halls, suits of armor adorned stands like royal guards, and long carpets here and there. Since I saw things in black and white, the carpets always looked black, and the same with paper. I couldn’t see them, no matter how hard I try. And the same goes for clothes. I needed the maids to describe those sorts of things to me. Apparently, I was wearing a red and pink frilly dress, and my long black hair was braided behind me. I wore no shoes cause they hurt my feet and ears, even if they help me see now.

I knocked on the wooden door to my father’s office. When I did, I could see everything within, from the bookshelves to the number of paintings and busts that decorated the room. My father sat at his desk, covered in papers, talking with a young man I had never met. The young man looked to be my height and well-dressed, I assumed at least.

Turning on Hildegarden, I signed furiously, “Why I here? Who in there?”

Hildegarden’s heart beat faster as she said, “I don’t know what you mean.”

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“COME IN!” my father yelled from within the office.

I pointed menacingly at her and signed, “You know I know lying.”

Hildegarden’s expression softened as she whispered, “Your father thinks he’s found a match for you and wants to discuss it with you in person. Just talk with him, madam.”

I took a deep breath and schooled my scowling face into a neutral expression. “Fine,” I signed, “Don’t like this.” I then opened the door to the office and entered the room.

“Ah, there’s my lovely daughter,” My father said, standing, “I would like you to meet Jackson Pelimex, son of Duke Han Von Pelimex.

I walked up to Jackson, who stood and turned to introduce himself. He bowed and extended a hand, “As your father said, I am Jackson Pelimex. It is a pleasure to meet you.” I could hear his heart racing and smell how nervous he felt, but he also smelled of roses and vanilla, which was nice. He at least had good hygiene.

I extended a hand and shook his hand gently. He then gently kissed the back of my hand. How gentlemanly. His breath also smelled of mint. He apparently had excellent hygiene. I sat in the other chair next to his, and we all sat. I turned to my father and signed, “Why I here?”

My father sighed and said, “I have been deliberating with Duke Han for some time now. And we have agreed that his son, Jackson, would be a good match for you. And I wanted you two to meet.”

I clenched my fists in my lap and took a short breath. I then signed, “Why I not told sooner?”

“Because you would have objected to the very idea of it,” My father scolded, his voice level and emotionless, “But not to worry, I made sure he met every one of your criteria.”

Fighting the urge to scowl, I signed, “What c-r-i-t-e-r-i-a?”

“Well,” My father cleared his throat before listing everything, “he has good hygiene, as you can already tell. He is an accomplished swordsman and spell caster. Top of his class in the royal academy. Polite, a good listener, and handsome. He is currently learning sign language, so you can talk to him. I’ll let you ask him any more questions to test his abilities in the language.”

I turned to the expectant-looking young man and snapped my fingers to see his face a little better. Sound makes things within my radius sharper and easier to see. He looked very handsome, with a soft face and perfectly angled features. I signed, “What you want?”

Jackson took a moment to read my signs as I signed quickly and with a lifetime of practice. He gathered his thoughts and said, “I want a wife I could protect and make a family with. Someone like you exactly, to be precise.”

Oof! Family man gentleman with a savior complex. He was so close yet so far. I don’t want to be protected anymore, and I will beat the living crap out of him if he even tries to protect me. I say none of this and keep my expression neutral as I sign, “Can I talk with Father alone?”

“Oh, of course,” Jackson said once he realized what I said. Then he stood and left the room, waiting in the hall with Hildegarden.

Calmly I turned to my father and signed, “I have choice?”

“No,” my father said sternly.

I placed my hands on the arms of the chair I sat in and squeezed. The chair’s wood cracked and split under my grip as I fumed at my father internally. After a minute of my internal temper tantrum, I removed my hands from the chair and signed, “Nobody I can choose?”

“Not that you would like or would be better than Jackson.”

Sighing, I slumped back in the chair and signed, “Why?”

“You know why. I’m getting old, and we need a proper heir to the throne. Jackson will be the next king, and you the next queen. And with your disabilities, Jackson will need to assume the duties of a ruler. He and his father have agreed to take our name when you two are married, and your children will be the following rulers after you. I know you understand my reasoning.”

I tapped my fingers on the chair as I thought, then signed, “When?”

“We will announce your engagement on your birthday. I expect you to spend the next week getting to know each other.”

Standing, I walk over to one of the bookshelves and stare at it as I think of a way out. I don’t want to marry. I don’t want to be some trophy to be protected. I want to be free. I want to use my magic. I want to see the world. But I can’t do that within this gilded prison. My father stood, walked over to me, and placed his hand on my shoulder. His hand was cold to the touch, and I could feel his love for me just by how tightly he squeezed my shoulder.

“My dear, darling daughter. I know you want a lot. And I know I’ve denied you just as much. But I hope that one day you will fully appreciate the lengths I’ve gone through to keep you safe and happy,” My father said, “Please do consider what we’ve discussed.”

I signed to the bookshelf, “I have no choice.” I turned to my father and signed again, “O-K.”

My father smiled and hugged me tightly, whispering, “I love you, my darling daughter.” I did nothing and endured his love. I needed to get out of the wedding. And there was only one way I could think of to do so. I needed to leave. And I needed to leave quickly. This is probably going to be the last time I see my father, and I would like this last memory to at least be a pleasant one.

I focused on his smell. He smelled of chestnuts and ink. His hands were cold, but his hug felt warm and made me feel safer than anything in the world. His body felt slightly squishy after years of ruling, but underneath, I could feel the toned muscles of the worrier he once was long ago. And the smell of salt as his few tears rolled down his cheeks into his trimmed beard. This will be the last time I see him, and I was going to escape that very night.

***