"Lyle, they will not know the seriousness of it until something happens. Sadly prevention of things aren't well taken care of, but we..." Kit whispered, "We shall change this, yes? Eventually we will. We will take steps to make prevention of such things taken seriously. Right know though... It is not. Right now there must be a problem before other kingdoms are willing to fix what is happening. And it has to be serious. This is just how those matters work. But I'll..." Kit wiped her eyes and took a step back, trying to give him hope, but even she knew it was false. "I'll be back. Okay? Wait for me my love." Kat bit her lip before turning to the door, and slowly opening it. Her heart had sank, but she shook her head. She knew she had to do what was going to be best for everyone. Not just for her, for her life, and for Lyle and her's relationship. It was hard not to be selfish, but she did so anyhow.
Kit stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her with a squeak. Kit winced at the noise, quickly pushing it out of her head before hustling right up the steps quietly. She heard a glimpse of Jack and Lucy talking in hushed voices near the wheel and hid behind the large pole holding up the sails. She knew if they saw her they would try to tell her not to go alone. To get back up, to be responcable not honorable. Kit though was a girl of her word and she had told her father herself one day he would be cowering at his hands. Though she knew this was most likely less than true, that this would not go her way, she still slipped off the ship without a noise. Gus and Guz were loading up cargo at the bottom, and she walked right by them. The cargo was tall and she short and it was easy to weave inbetween boxes and boxes and not be seen. After all the princess needed a very loaded up ship.
The air was warm and the sun beat down harshly. It reflected off the sea and could create a blinding light that didn't bother Kit in the slighest. She knew her footing her, and walked right along the path. A few people gave a shout, a hello and wave and hug. As the princess was a social butterfly here, she prayed for the sick and comforted those in need. She was well liked indeed. Even though Kit greeted these people with warm smiles and happiness, anyone could tell the anxiety and worry written over her face and features, the fear that was settled deep within the depths of her heart. In her head she whispered prayers not for her safety but the safety of the people, the safety of her new-found love, the safety of her friends that protected her through the years. The staff that had tended to whatever Kit wanted without complaint. The safety of neighboring villages when very possibly her father went to war with other kingdoms to keep his throne if she so died and went to hell where her family belonged. She prayed hard and long as she shook the hands of men and tightly hugged the children of the community that come to greet her. Hugged them as if it would be the last time she would ever see them.
The castle stood tall in the middle of the island, with dark victorian gates around it. It was much different from the rest of the island, which was tropical and warm and pleasant. It had a darkness that hung around it, very possibly because her father never left the grounds. The castle was made of dark gray stone and had vines weaving up to the many windows and balconies. Gardens of deep violet and dark red hung around the edges, with horses of black and white with knights sitting atop of them walked around casually. Guarding the gates. When Kit appeared, the gates were opened with a creak and she walked down the shaded path. The only light was really in the back yard where Kit's hidden garden was guarded within the forest, secret from her father for obvious reason. Kit knew this place well, every step and every stone she knew. She needed no help going up to the steps while the knights in heavy black armor opened the doors with a pleasant hello. Kit's first steps were quiet and sneaky into the house. She slipped up the steps carefully, listening for breathing, walking, the glug of someone downing a bottle of whiskey.
But Kit heard none of it as she made it to the top of the tower, to her bedroom. She slipped into the white and lilac room that smelled of fresh vanilla and lilac flowers for her arrival home. Immediately she knew with the fresh flowers that her father knew she was coming home. Someone had told, somehow he knew. No one could sneak up flowers to her room without his permission, they feared death.They feared for their life. A small pistol was in the drawer underneath her many papers of ideas she had often had. It was an ink that raised so she could read her writing too, made especially for her by one of her teachers when she was much younger. The pistol had two bullets, and Kit knew that if neither one hit. Well then, she was fucked. Then again she was also screwed over if she hit an arm or a leg, because her father already knew torture and pain and she knew that it wouldn't stop him to be shot. He would kill her if he could, if he knew she was after the throne. There was no other way the throne could be taken. Slipping the gun into the waistband of her skirt and folding her shirt that was slightly too big over it she took a deep breath and set off to find her father.
Her footsteps were more like tiptoes around the large castle. Once in awhile she would pass a servant and they would say nothing. It was weird to have them say nothing. After all, she was a princess. Normally her trips home resulted in hugs and hellos, but not this time. It made goosebumps raise on her skin, and the hair on the back of her neck. Like an animal, she knew something was wrong, she knew something was up. She knew that this was not going to be a happy free time. When she stood outside of the large closed door to her fathers office, she knew immediately her father stood inside. Not because of the sound of glass clinking against a table as he brought down the shot, but because the door had never been closed before. It was always open, with Kit's father sitting in his big velvet purple chair sitting before the fireplace with a cigar in his hand and a shot in his hand. It never before had been closed. Not even during kingly buisness, simply because he wanted the guards to keep him safe. But not this time, and with narrowed eyes and the twist of a cold handle, Kit opened the door. Her heart in her throat.
Nothing was said between the two as Kit stood there, closing the door softly behind her. More unusaully than the door being closed was the fact the desk was neat and tidy, books placed in alphabetical order, the entire place was clean even though he never let a maid into hid office. It smelled of cigar smoke and heavy alcohol, so Kit did not know this difference. To her it seemed like the same rug, the same wood, the same fireplace, the same father that sat staring off into the distance. If Kit could see in fact, she would know of the cleanliness of the entire castle, that the maids had cleaned every square inch top to bottom on the order of her father. None of the maids were wearing their perfume either, except for Lucy, but Kit had been too busy stuck in her head trying to plan things out to notice this.
With a few steps, Kit stepped by the chair, putting her hand on it. The soft feel of the couch familiar underneath her sensitive fingertips. "Hello, daughter." He spoke in a low, melodic voice, tapping his cigar in the ash tray. "Father." Kit nodded, letting go of the chair to stand in front of the fireplace, staring back with empty eyes at her dad. "How was your trip, my little girl? I expected you would be getting your stuff to leave today and head off to a new mans castle." His voice was very condensending and it made Kit shudder. "No. I found a man and brought him back to my kingdom to help me rule as queen, actually." She said in a flat tone, she didn't realize she was staring into the depth of his blood red eyes, staring him down, making him feel small. But she was. And she looked so much like her mother as she did. "Your starting to sound like your sister." He coughed, putting the cigar back in his mouth. Kit took a step forward.
"We don't speak about her." She said in a strong voice. Kia blew the smoke forward, letting the thick of it hit her face. Kit didn't move, only tilted her head. In that moment, the tension was thick, and Kit could feel her father quake. To see his daughter finally standing her ground, to see in his eyes the possibility of his near death. He lost his cool, and in the sudden next seconds to pass were quick and rough. At the same time Her father charged at her from the chair, Kit took the gun out of her dress and shot twice. Her father fell, blood pouring from his head and neck, crumpled on the ground. Blood sprayed along the carpets, along Kit, and dripped along the knife that was stuck in her side. Kit dropped to her knees.
Blood. Blood. Blood. Everywhere. It smelled thick and heavy, it burned into her body. And her father laughed a single time, the cigar still in his hand, and took his last puff before coughing out, "Well done, daughter. Your damned." And letting his soul release from his body to hell where it belonged. The red it covered everything, the red covered her and her father. It soaked her pretty clothes, and his expensive ones. It warmed and bubbled into the crackeling orange fireplace, and spotted the violet carpet a deeper purple. Color. Kit thought, tears in her eyes I can see! I can s-" Her body hunched against the floor, as her eyes and mind fell into blackness. Her last thoughts prayers of thanks.
