20 years.
20 years was a long time for Elizabeth Storm Van De Laar. She spent a lot of it improving herself, learning how to become the next Duchess of Eldoria, and practicing with her skills using her trusty rapier for this day.
Today was a special day—it was Elizabeth's birthday, the one when she was promised her mother's pendant, a gift her father had promised her all those years ago when she was still a young, innocent, and inexperienced girl. Her mother died giving birth to her, and her father hated her for that. She always tried to appear not as a burden but as a daughter to be proud of, with no luck.
However, it wasn't her special day only; it was also Vivienne's, who came to the Dawnkeep castle on the same day, meaning it was her birthday and…her adopted sister's…she hated that girl more than anything. She wanted her to be thrown out of the mansion and die to the wolves for every moment she spent with her, everything about her always unsettled and infuriated her.
Vivienne, that street girl, her father picked up and treated her as the perfect daughter. Oh, so beautiful, so charming, and all of that sickening, spoiled treatment while Elizabeth was left to rot in the exhaustion and neglect.
But she didn't care about it today.
She cared about one thing today. Herself earning that beautiful pendant her mother wore before she died, giving birth to her. Her portraits always showed that, and Elizabeth wanted to look like her. The beautiful, strong, and elegant duchess, similar to her mother, will be in the near future.
Everything was festive, with decorations everywhere. Her father, William Van De Laar, ordered all the servants to decorate the palace with the best decorations and roses. Elizabeth knew it wasn't meant for her; it was meant for Vivienne more or less, and because of this, the person who should be the center of attention spent a lot of her time in her room, receiving nothing from her father.
But again, she wanted to make the best of her day and avoid any sort of problems that would ruin everything. She had to be the responsible duke's daughter for today.
"I hope this is worth it." She murmured as she was sitting on her bed, thinking about her life so far. There was a point in time when nothing mattered anymore, at least for her. She wanted one thing, one thing that kept her from falling to despair, and that was her mother's pendant. She was supposed to inherit it on her birthday. The young noblewoman didn't care about anything else, not the money or the status. If her birthday wish of her father caring and acknowledging her didn't happen, the pendant would be the only other option worth it.
She finally got up and began preparing. She washed herself, dressed up in a nice blue and black dress, brushed her blonde hair and got out to see her father and that bitch of a sister. She made her way to the dining hall, greeting the servants on her way who wished her a happy birthday on the way. She was nervous but also looking forward to earning what was hers.
As she arrived, she heard the voices of her father and Vivienne, probably wishing her happy birthday and spoiling her as always. She stepped forward, her eyes assessing them until …she saw it.
The pendant…
It was on Vivienne's neck…
Elizabeth froze in her place, eyes widening in horror as the jewels that were supposed to be hers now rested on Vivienne's neck. Of all people, the one who had the only thing she cared about was resting on the neck of the wrong person. Her eyes twitched in anger, her fingers twitched, nearly summoning her rapier and threatening that street girl to take it off to hand it to her, but she held herself. It wasn't the time to destroy something, especially with her father sitting just near her.
She took a deep breath, gritting her teeth to contain the eruption that was about to happen, and put on a cute little smile as she stepped forward, her footsteps now alarming them of her presence. William and Vivienne were dining, chatting happily. Vivienne wore a pendant, the most expensive one made of gold. The jewelry that Elizabeth's mother wore during her lifetime everyone knew because it was in the portraits that had Lisa. How could he give his wife's jewelry to a girl from the street? But he had done just that.
As Elizabeth approached the table, Vivienne's mood soured, and William also looked at her with disgust. They both put their spoons back on the table; even the maids were surprised by Elizabeth Storm's presence.
"Why are you here?" he asked with a cold voice.
Meanwhile, Vivienne watched with a wicked smile and added, "It seems no one invited you, 'sis'," she said with a smile.
"Well, it is my birthday too, after all." Elizabeth replied, eyeing the pendant before staring at her father accusingly, before going back to Vivienne. "Happy birthday, dear 'sister'."
William's face darkened at Elizabeth's comment, his purple eyes flashing with irritation as they darted briefly from Vivienne's smug, smiling face to his own daughter's accusing gaze. He gripped his spoon tightly, knuckles turning white, before setting it down on the table with a soft but audible clink. The smile faded from Vivienne's lips as she sensed the shift in William's demeanor.
"Your birthday? I'm afraid I don't recall ever mentioning that," William said coldly to Elizabeth Storm, not even bothering to look in her direction. "In this household, we celebrate the birthday of my beloved daughter, Vivienne Van De Laar." As he turned to Vivienne, his expression softened as he smiled at her in a way he never had for his trueborn daughter. "Happy birthday, my little princess. You deserve to be celebrated on this special day."
Vivienne giggled sweetly under his praise, flashing Elizabeth a triumphant smirk as she reached up to touch the golden pendant at her throat. The same pendant that had once belonged to Lisa, Elizabeth's mother and William's one true love.
"Why don't you run along now, dear? I'm certain you have a busy day of festivities planned for your birthday celebration," William said to Elizabeth, effectively dismissing her from the dining room and the family gathering. He couldn't bear to see her sad eyes anymore, couldn't stand to feel an ounce of compassion or responsibility for the painful reminder she represented. In his mind, she was nothing more than a reminder of the loss of Lisa—and thus, a burden.
Elizabeth stood there for a moment, murmuring something under her breath before she turned around and walked out, gritting her teeth in anger as not only her father and Vivienne continued their behavior toward her, but also the pendant that was promised to her was around the neck of that bitch.
William watched coldly as Elizabeth spun on her heel and stormed out of the dining room, her fists clenched and her jaw set in anger. The slam of the door echoed behind her as she disappeared from view. He felt nothing—no remorse, no sympathy, not even the slightest flicker of paternal concern. If he was being honest with himself, there was a small part of him that was almost... pleased. Pleased that she was upset, pleased that she was suffering.
At the same time, there was another part of him that felt a twinge of something else—regret, perhaps, or guilt—but he quickly pushed it down, burying it beneath the weight of his longstanding resentment and bitterness.
Vivienne, sensing the tense atmosphere, looked up at William with concern in her red eyes. "Is everything alright, Father?" she asked softly, placing a comforting hand over his on the table.
William forced a smile for her benefit, patting her hand lightly. "Of course, my dear. Everything is perfect. I'm sure your dear sister is just... excited for your celebration," he lied, not wanting to admit the truth of his callous dismissal of Elizabeth on her own birthday.
Vivienne giggled and leaned forward, her blonde hair falling over her shoulder as she rested her chin on her hand. "Tell me, Father, what do you have planned for me today? I hope it's something special."
"Oh, I have several things planned," William said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "But first, let's finish our breakfast. I ordered the finest wines for us to celebrate."
As they ate, William couldn't help but think about Lisa, his late wife. He missed her terribly, even after all these years. Elizabeth was a constant reminder of what he had lost—his beautiful, kind, gentle Lisa, who had died giving birth to her. He couldn't stand to look at Elizabeth and not be reminded of that pain, that loss.
But Vivienne... Vivienne was different. She was like a breath of fresh air, a ray of sunshine in his dark and dreary existence. She didn't remind him of Lisa. She was her own person, and he loved her for that. But deep down, a small part of him knew the injustice of his actions. The pendant around Vivienne's neck, the one he had gifted to her, had once belonged to Lisa—his beloved wife and Elizabeth's true mother. He had promised it to his true daughter a few years ago, told her that if she wished to earn it, she had to work for it.
Yet here he was, giving it to a peasant girl he had adopted as a charity case, while his own daughter, the one who truly deserved it, was left with nothing but anger and resentment. He shook his head, banishing the thoughts from his mind. No, he told himself, he had made his choice. Vivienne was his treasure, his light, his beloved daughter who brought him joy and pride. Elizabeth Storm was nothing more than a painful reminder of the past, one that he was determined to leave behind.
"Father, I must say, I feel rather bad for dear Elizabeth," Vivienne said with practiced innocence, her voice dripping with false concern. "It's her birthday as well, after all. Perhaps we should have invited her to join us? She seems so... upset."
William waved his hand dismissively, his expression hardening again. "She'll be fine. She's grown far too dramatic in recent months. I'll not have her sour mood spoil your day, my treasure."
As they continued their meal, oblivious to the storm brewing in his daughter's mind, William tried to ignore the aching feeling about his decision. Elizabeth had no place in his heart, and certainly no place at his table on Vivienne's birthday. He had given her everything she could need—a noble education, a position, a future—but she would never understand the one thing that truly mattered to him: his unwavering devotion to Vivienne and his bitterness toward the daughter who had taken Lisa from him He would think about that later, if he ever does, and instead put his focus on the now. He turned to Vivienne, smiling as he raised his glass in a toast. "To you, my beloved daughter. May your birthday be as radiant and beautiful as you are."
Unknowingly, his action had its own set of consequences.
…
"AAAAHHHH!"
And that consequence was Elizabeth spending her day just destroying everything in her path inside the forest. As she got away from being on sight, she looked for anything that would receive her anger and frustration with no consequences, mainly trees, rocks, and perhaps bandits and thieves added to the mix that could have tried to sneak into the castle on the way. She was collecting dust and blood on herself as she simply did not care.
She lost it; she was unable to hold it anymore.
All the years of pain and frustration, all this time spent to prove herself, prove she was worthy…but he never changed. He gave Vivienne the one object she fought for. The constant that kept her sane…now, she was seeing no reason to hold herself anymore. She was ready to destroy everything in her path until justice was served.
I had worked SO HARD! For what?
The thought burned in her chest. She had spent countless hours perfecting her posture, learning to conduct herself with the grace expected of the next duchess. She had studied economics until her head ached, memorized trade routes and taxation systems that would one day be her responsibility. She had practiced with her rapier until her muscles screamed, driven by the knowledge that as duchess, she would need to defend not just herself but her lands and people.
But what good were all those years of effort if her own father STILL wouldn't even acknowledge her existence?
How dare he…How dare them all!
All she could see was Vivienne's smug smile and that damned pendant—the one her mother had worn, the one her father had promised her would be hers someday.
She launched into a series of furious strikes, each movement containing the rage burning inside her.
Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.
The trees she cut finally went down, and splinters flew from the posts as she attacked them with everything she had. She thought of every slight, every dismissive look from her father, every time Vivienne had mocked her behind his back.
"Damn it!" she hissed, spinning and striking again. Her arms were already beginning to shake from the constant boiling rage. She had trained too hard, sacrificed too much to be dismissed like this. The worst part wasn't even the pendant anymore—it was the realization that she had done everything right. She had become exactly what a duchess should be, and yet...
And yet I still meant nothing to him.
She let out a war cry as she continued her rampage inside the forest. She spent the next couple of hours in the same cycle of rage. Every memory, every attempt, everything she said and did while holding years of sadness and frustration was coming at her. Elizabeth stopped for a moment, breathing hard, her reflection in the blade's edge showing a young woman's face twisted in frustration and pain before she returned to her spree of rampage.
Somewhere in the castle, there was the sound of celebration—the servants singing happy birthday to Vivienne. William continued with the celebrations, handing gifts and ordering meals that anyone would want for their birthday. All while ignoring his real daughter. She was a grown woman now, more than capable of taking care of herself and staying responsible for every word and action that comes out of her, he thought. He owed her nothing—especially not on this day, when he chose to celebrate the birthday of his beloved adopted daughter instead. Let her find her own way—it was high time she learned to stand on her own two feet.
He would worry about it later.
.
.
This will be difficult.
.
.
As the last light of day faded and the first stars began to peek out in the darkening sky, William retired to his study, needing some time alone to collect his thoughts and calm his own mixed emotions. The celebrating and feasting with Vivienne had been a joyous and heartfelt affair, but the tension and anger radiating from Elizabeth's presence earlier was now occupying his mind instead, like a bitter taste on his tongue.
He poured himself a generous glass of rich, red wine and settled into his favorite chair by the fireplace, allowing the warmth and flickering light to wash over him. As he took a sip of the potent liquid, he couldn't help but reflect on the lingering unease he felt. Though he tried to push thoughts all day related to Elizabeth from his mind, he couldn't shake the sense that he had wronged her somehow. The look of accusation and pain in her eyes was still stuck in him, even as he tried to rationalize his behavior and treatment of her.
No, he told himself firmly, taking another long drink of wine. You owe her nothing. She is not your concern anymore. She is a grown woman now, not a helpless child. It is time she learned to take responsibility for her own happiness and well-being.
It was simple like always, right?
.
.
No, it was never that simple.
Even so, the gnawing sense of guilt and unease persisted. He shook his head, trying to dislodge the intrusive thoughts. He refused to let Elizabeth, or anyone else for that matter, come between him and his beloved Vivienne on such an important day as her birthday. He knew he should feel guilty, should do something to make amends for the way he had treated her on her birthday. But every time he thought of her, all he could see was the ghost of Lisa's face, the echo of her final, agonized screams as she gave birth to their daughter. Elizabeth had been the cause of his beloved wife's death, had ripped her away from him before their child had even drawn its first breath. And so, in his grief and rage, he had turned that blame onto the tiny, innocent baby.
As the years passed, even as Elizabeth grew into a strong, capable young woman, William could not bring himself to forgive her for the role he had assigned to her in his mind. She remained a reminder of his greatest loss, a thorn in his side that he could not extract, no matter how hard he tried.
A sudden knock at the door interrupted his dark reverie. "Come in," he called out, setting his wine glass down on the polished wooden surface of his desk.
The door opened to reveal one of his most trusted knights, a man who had served under him for over a decade. "Your Grace," the knight said, his expression grave. "There's been an incident in the forest. Lady Elizabeth... She had left a trail of fallen trees and killed what seems to be brigands and thieves. Badly."
William's face darkened as the knight's words sank in. He knew Elizabeth well and her capabilities to wreak havoc with the way his daughter vented her anger and pain; this was a new level of her.
With a heavy sigh, he stood up from his desk, the leather of his chair creaking softly beneath him. The knight stepped aside as William strode past, his purple eyes flashing with a mixture of frustration, disappointment, and a tiny, begrudging flicker of pride at his daughter's formidable skills.
Elizabeth was walking by herself, panting heavily as her tears were falling, and calming down from her rampaging state before she returned with a rapier dripping in the blood of the fallen enemies. The servants were hesitant to get closer. She was a great warrior; she had been taught by the best in Eldoria, her skills with the rapier were something few could match, and yet…it felt empty knowing this wouldn't change anything. She was now in the entrance of the castle, a little calmer thanks to the path of destruction she left behind.
Meanwhile, William approached the entrance of the castle. He saw Elizabeth Storm walking there, her chest heaving as she caught her breath. Blood from her rapier dripped onto the cobblestones at her feet, the crimson liquid glistening in the fading light of the setting sun. Her clothes were splattered with dirt and more blood, no doubt from her brutal rampage through the forest. William paused for a moment, studying his daughter with a critical eye. She was a vision of fierce beauty, her purple eyes blazing with unshed tears and barely contained fury. As much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, he could see some of that strength and power that radiated from her.
The same strength and power that Lisa had once possessed.
But the sight of Elizabeth, drenched in the blood of her enemies, only served to fuel William's long-standing resentment. How could he celebrate her accomplishments when she was the very reason for his greatest loss? The weight of that knowledge pressed heavily upon his shoulders.
He moved closer to her, his voice low and measured as he spoke. "Elizabeth Storm Van de Larr," he said her full name, his tone sharp and disapproving. "Look at the state of you. What have you done this time?" He gestured to the blood on her rapier, his lip curling in distaste. "Can you not control your temper for even a moment? On your own birthday, no less?"
She stopped in front of him, her expression unimpressed as she had none of his remarks. "Oh, sorry, I didn't know it was my birthday." She replied sarcastically and walked past him. She didn't want to hear what he wanted to say about her decisions and attitude because it was the same every time.
William gritted his teeth, his purple eyes flashing with anger as Elizabeth brushed past him, her sarcastic words dripping with bitter disappointment. He watched as she ascended the grand staircase, her blood-stained clothes leaving a trail of red droplets on the polished marble steps. He knew her anger, her pain, stemmed from his own cold indifference to her well-being and happiness. But the fact that she couldn't even show him the basic respect of a proper address, especially on a day when the entire household was celebrating, only served to inflame his own frustration and resentment.
As she disappeared from view, William stood at the base of the staircase, his mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions that he had long ago learned to suppress. He knew he should say something, do something to make amends for the way he had treated her. But the words, the very idea of offering comfort or support, stuck in his throat like a bitter poison. Instead, he turned on his heel and strode back to his study, the knight falling into step behind him. As he entered the room, he poured himself another glass of wine, downing it in one long, fortifying gulp before slamming the glass down on the table.
He had to find a way to deal with this situation, to address his daughter's anger and his own long-standing bitterness. But what that way was, he had no idea. The ghosts of the past still clung to him like a shroud, blinding him to the truth of the present and the future that lay ahead.
He will think of something that benefits both…well, try to think of something.
…
As Elizabeth continued her path, she heard footsteps approaching from behind. She didn't turn around immediately, too tired and emotionally raw to care if her father was going to talk more about her behavior-
"Elizabeth?"
She recognized that voice—it was Vivienne's gentle, melodious tone. Elizabeth's eyes snapped open, and she turned around sharply to face her sister with a mixture of disbelief and anger.
"What do you want?" she asked bitterly. "Come to mock me? To take even more of what's rightfully mine?" She eyed Vivienne warily, tears still shimmering in her eyes. She gripped her bloodied rapier tighter, knuckles turning white. "You have no right to be here, pretending to care," she spat.
Vivienne, on the other hand, remained calm and composed. She needed to stay like that to rub more salt on the wound. "I heard the commotion and wanted to ensure you were alright. I know it's been a difficult day for you."
Elizabeth let out a harsh laugh, shaking her head. "A difficult day? You have no idea. You wouldn't understand."
Vivienne stepped closer, reaching out a gloved hand as if to comfort her. But Elizabeth jerked away, glaring at Vivienne with a mixture of resentment, jealousy, and lingering anger. "Don't touch me," she warned, her voice low and dangerous. "You think you're so perfect, don't you? Father's favorite. But you're nothing more than a thief and a liar."
Vivienne's hand dropped to her side, and she looked at Elizabeth Storm with a mixture of pity and faint disgust. "You're not well, Elizabeth. Look at you—reeking of blood and misery. This isn't the way to win Father's love, you know."
Elizabeth clenched her jaw, anger and humiliation burning inside her. She knew Vivienne was right, but she couldn't bring herself to back down. The pain and resentment ran too deep.
Vivienne's expression remained calm, though a flicker of irritation crossed her features at being called a thief. She adjusted the golden pendant at her throat with a delicate hand, the light catching on the precious metal. The pendant—a relic of Lisa's, promised to Elizabeth Storm—and yet now worn by Vivienne instead.
The best tool to make Elizabeth more irritated.
"I simply wanted to check on my dear sister," Vivienne said softly, her tone dripping with false concern. "Though I suppose I can see why you'd be angry. It must be difficult, watching me receive all of Father's attention while you..." She trailed off meaningfully, letting the implication hang in the air.
Elizabeth's jaw clenched at the reminder. Her breathing was still uneven from the emotional turmoil, and her eyes—usually so carefully controlled—betrayed the exhaustion and pain she'd been carrying for years.
"I handled everything," Elizabeth said quietly, more to herself than to Vivienne. "I learned everything. The economics, the politics, the combat—everything." Her voice cracked slightly on the last word.
Vivienne stepped back, her red eyes studying Elizabeth with a mixture of amusement and contempt. "Did you? And where has it all led you? To the forest at sunset, blood-soaked and weeping like a child?"
The words stung because they were true. Elizabeth straightened, gripping her rapier tighter as if it could give her strength. "At least I earned everything I have. Everything I know. I didn't steal my way into Father's good graces."
The accusation hung between them—unspoken but obvious. Vivienne had come from nothing, a street urchin who had wormed her way into the Van De Laar household, and now wore Lisa's most precious possession as if it were her own.
"Perhaps." Vivienne's smile widened slightly, knowing those sweet details and the effort to earn her father's attention, while she didn't have to do anything to be loved. "I suppose I should tell you that Father was looking for you. He's been asking for you specifically, wondering where you went off to." Vivienne said coolly, her voice taking on a sharp edge. She paused, her red eyes narrowing slightly as she studied Elizabeth's disheveled appearance—the blood on her rapier, the tears staining her cheeks, the wild look in her eyes. "But I doubt you care much about Father's concerns at the moment," Vivienne continued, crossing her arms over her chest. "You've always been more concerned with your own grievances than with the well-being of this family."
Despite her cold tone, there was something almost pitiful in Vivienne's gaze as she looked at her sister. She knew that Elizabeth was in pain, but she couldn't bring herself to care. After all, Elizabeth had never shown her any kindness or compassion, the moment she stole her father's attention every day without trying—the best plan to break her further.
"Perhaps," Vivienne suggested softly, "you should consider taking a bath and getting some rest. You look absolutely dreadful, and I know Father would prefer not to see you in such a state."
Elizabeth's eyes twitched, wanting to punch that smug off her face, making her cry like that bitch deserved, before she took a hold of herself. She had ways to make Vivienne irritated, and it was time to put them on. "You are right, I should get cleaned." She smirked, her left hand went to her face and began wiping the blood on her head and face with her thumb, slow enough to remove a lot before she just wiped it on the sleeve of Vivienne's dress.
Vivienne's eyes widened in horror as she felt the wet, sticky substance being wiped onto her expensive emerald gown. Her perfectly composed expression cracked, and for a moment, genuine shock registered on her face.
"Elizabeth!" she gasped, pulling back instinctively as she stared down at the dark stain spreading across the delicate fabric. Her pale cheeks flushed with indignation. "Have you lost your mind?!" She quickly stepped away from Elizabeth, trying to inspect the damage to her dress with trembling hands. The blood was already beginning to seep into the rich emerald material, leaving an ugly brownish streak.
"I cannot believe you would be so... so vile!" Vivienne exclaimed, her voice rising in pitch as she glared at Elizabeth with a mixture of disgust and outrage. Her hands were shaking now, whether from anger or distress, Elizabeth would care less. Vivienne looked at her sister's face—still had some blood of her enemies—and felt a wave of revulsion wash over her. "How could you?" Vivienne whispered, more to herself than to Elizabeth. She turned away, unable to bear the sight of her sister any longer. "Just... just go away from me. I don't want to look at you right now."
Despite her words, Vivienne couldn't help but glance back at her once more, her expression a mixture of hurt, anger, and something else—perhaps fear from what she could do. "I hope you're satisfied," she said bitterly, looking down at the stain on her dress and pulling a handkerchief. "I hope this little stunt brings you some twisted sense of satisfaction. Because that's all you're ever going to get from me."
Elizabeth looked at her and simply chuckled. "Thank you for reminding me to clean myself." If that move and this remark were malicious enough, she swatted her rapier to make the blood fly off into Vivienne's dress and face, laughing it off before she walked past her to her room.
Vivienne squeaked in shock as the wet paint—no, blood—spattered across her face, some of it landing in her open mouth before she could close it in time. She stumbled back a step, her eyes wide with disbelief and disgust as she stared at the dark stains now decorating her cheeks and chin. "Elizabeth!" she shrieked, her voice cracking with a mixture of horror and humiliation. She frantically grabbed a nearby handkerchief, trying to wipe the blood from her face, but it only smeared across her skin, making it worse.
She stood there for a moment, frozen, as the reality of what just happened sank in. Her sister had deliberately wiped blood on her—the expensive gown she wore for this day. And then, as if that wasn't enough, Elizabeth had walked away and deliberately flicked her rapier to get even more blood on Vivienne's face. Vivienne's carefully maintained composure was finally shattered completely. Tears of frustration and anger began streaming down her cheeks—or maybe that was just the blood running down her face. She couldn't tell anymore.
"You... you...monster!" she gasped out between sobs, her voice breaking. She turned away from Elizabeth's retreating form, unable to bear the sight of her sister's indifference. The blood on her face and dress made her feel dirty, violated in a way that went beyond physical cleanliness.
With trembling hands, she called for the servants, her voice shaking. "Someone! Anyone! I need help! I need to... I need to..." She couldn't finish, her words dissolving into another choked sob as she looked down at the ruined fabric and the dark streaks on her pale skin.
That girl will pay. She would pay her back for this stunt. It didn't matter now; she had to clean herself first.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth returned to her room, getting herself and her rapier cleaned before she sat on her bed. She sighed in resignation as everything felt like it was against her. The start of the day brought this miserable scene of Vivienne wearing her mother's pendant and William's audacity to shrug it off.
"Why…is this the price of my mother's choice of giving me life…" She let the question out of her, wishing anyone who could hear would find a way to help.
The thought of her mother, Lisa, bringing her into this world—and dying in the process—felt like a heavy weight on her chest. Elizabeth had spent so many years trying to understand why her father seemed to hate her, why he looked at her with nothing but coldness and resentment. Was it truly her fault? Could a baby be to blame for her mother's death? She gripped her hair, trying to hold herself before she exploded more than she had in the forest. She took a deep breath, inhaling slowly through her nose and exhaling through her mouth.
In. Out.
Inhale and exhale.
All before, she just lay on her side, resigned for the night.
…
William paced the length of his study, his mind churning with thoughts of his wayward daughter and the mess she had once again brought upon herself and the household. He knew her actions were a direct result of the way he had treated her, the constant dismissal and disregard for her feelings, her needs, and her happiness. A part of him, a small, long-buried part, ached to go to her and offer the comfort and love that a father should give to his child. But the weight of his past, the specter of Lisa's memory, held him back as it always did. He couldn't bring himself to be the father that Elizabeth needed and deserved.
Instead, he focused on the problem at hand. He had to find a way to rein in her destructive behavior, to give her something to focus on that wouldn't bring shame and scandal upon his household. An idea began to formulate in his mind, a solution that would benefit not only Elizabeth but the kingdom as well. He would send her away to train with the royal guard. They were the finest warriors in the land, and under their guidance, Elizabeth could learn to channel her anger and aggression into something productive and worthwhile. Perhaps this would give her the discipline and focus she so desperately lacked.
But this decision would require him to confront his own fears and the ghosts of his past. Sending Elizabeth away would mean letting her go, if only for a time. It would mean trusting others to guide and protect her in a way that he had never been able to do himself. He knew it wouldn't be easy, but he also knew that he could no longer stand idly by and watch her destroy herself and everything around her. This was a chance for a new beginning, for both of them.
With a heavy heart and a grim determination, William made his way to Elizabeth's chambers. He would face his daughter, speak to her as a father should, and speak to her before everything falls. As he made his way to her chambers, Elizabeth was already lying on her bed, exhausted from the mental stress she had for one day. She wanted to sleep and find a way to forget what happened today.
William paused at the doorway to Elizabeth Storm's chambers, his purple eyes taking in the sight of her sprawled out on her bed, her earlier furious energy long since spent. He could see the weariness etched into the lines of her body, the exhaustion that seemed to permeate her very being. For a moment, he was struck by a pang of something that felt almost like compassion, almost like the love a father should have for his child. But he quickly pushed it down, burying it beneath the weight of his long-standing resentment. He stepped into the room, the floorboards creaking softly beneath his weight as he approached her bed. He could see the blood that had been cleaned from her skin and clothes, but the sight of it still filled him with a sense of unease and disappointment.
"Elizabeth," he said, his voice low and measured, "We need to talk about your behavior today." He paused, choosing his next words carefully. "I know it's your birthday, but that does not give you the right to go around causing chaos as you please."
He studied her for a moment, his gaze lingering on her face, taking in the mix of anger, sadness, and exhaustion that played out across her features. He knew he had to broach the subject that had been weighing on his mind.
"I have decided," he began, his tone serious and unyielding, "that it is time for you to leave the castle and train with the royal guard. They can teach you the discipline and focus that you so desperately lack." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "What do you think about that, my daughter?"
Elizabeth looked at him, really looked, and for a moment, she was silent about this decision, no argument, no rejection. Then, she sat up, her eyes never leaving his face. "So...what I am hearing…" She narrowed her eyes, her voice measured just as his. "Is that you want to get rid of me because being with the royal guard is what? A way to help me control a tantrum for today's events?" She raised an eyebrow in amusement.
William's jaw clenched at Elizabeth's sarcastic tone and the amused raise of her eyebrow. He could feel his patience wearing thin, his fingers twitching with the urge to reach out and shake her roughly. But he held himself back, reminding himself that he needed to take a different approach this time.
"Don't be foolish," he said, his voice sharp and biting. "This is not about your so-called 'tantrums', as you put it. This is about giving you a chance to find your purpose, to become something more than the angry, resentful girl you've become." He stepped closer to the bed, his tall frame looming over her. "The royal guard is the finest fighting force in the kingdom. They can teach you the skills and discipline you need to control your... inclinations." The word 'inclinations' was said with a slight curl of his lip, a hint of disgust. "But most of all," he continued, his gaze boring into hers, "this is a chance for you to get out of this castle, to see the world beyond these walls. Perhaps some time away from here, away from...me, will give you the perspective you so desperately need."
Elizabeth was not convinced by his words. She knew it was ridiculous. She knew he knew it was ridiculous but her father is a stubborn man. "I don't need the royal guard to guide me...I can guide myself." She replied before she looked down at the floor, her shoulders slumped in defeat. "But if leaving my home so you could be with Vivienne and enjoy your life without hating my guts every morning, then so be it." She said, knowing the way he thought, even if he tried to deny it.
William's eyes flashed with anger and a touch of guilt at Elizabeth Storm's bitter words. He could see the slumped shoulders, the weary resignation in her voice, and he knew that she saw through his plan. He had to admit to himself that a part of his motivation was indeed to have some respite from the constant tension and animosity that her presence brought to his life.
But he couldn't bring himself to say the words out loud, to confirm her suspicions and accusations. So instead, he responded with his usual cold indifference.
"Don't be dramatic, Elizabeth," he said, his voice sharp and dismissive. "This isn't about me or my life with Vivienne. This is about giving you a chance to find your place, to become someone worthy of the Storm name." He paused, considering his next words carefully. "The royal guard is a prestigious organization. They can provide you with structure, discipline, and a sense of purpose that you so clearly lack. They can help you channel your... energies into something productive and noble, rather than the destructive path you seem to favor." He closed his eyes then, his gaze drifting to the window and the darkening sky outside. "Sometimes, Elizabeth Storm, we all need a change of scenery, a chance to reinvent ourselves. Perhaps this is the opportunity you need to become the person you were always meant to be."
Elizabeth wasn't surprised. In fact, she felt it coming at her. All those years, waiting for him to see her for what she is instead of the burden he always saw her as, ended up in him sending her out of the home. She didn't expect the Royal Guard as his choice, mainly marrying some noble or a prince to get rid of her was more realistic, but perhaps, it might not be bad. "So that's my first birthday gift in years." She gripped the sheets of her bed before getting up and slamming the drawer open to pack the necessary items.
William watched as Elizabeth abruptly got up from her bed, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. He felt a pang of something—regret, perhaps, or a long-buried sense of guilt—but he pushed it down, burying it beneath the weight of his longstanding resentment. He couldn't bring himself to apologize for his harsh words or the way he had dismissed her feelings. Instead, he stood there, a silent, imposing figure as he watched her throw open a drawer and begin to pack the necessary items for her journey to the royal guard.
As she roughly shoved clothing and personal belongings into a worn leather satchel, William couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. He knew that sending his daughter away was not the solution to their problems, but he was at a loss for any other alternatives.
He cleared his throat, his voice gruff and awkward as he spoke. "Elizabeth, I... I expect you to do well at the royal guard. Conduct yourself with honor and discipline, and make me proud." The last two words felt foreign on his tongue, a rare admission of pride in his daughter's potential. He paused, considering his next words carefully. "And... be careful, alright? Watch your back, and trust no one too easily." It was a parent's warning, a father's plea for his child's safety and well-being. A plea that he had not often made to Elizabeth in the past, and one that caught them both by surprise.
Elizabeth stood for a moment, hearing her father wishing for her safety, a guide for her upcoming journey outside of the walls of her house. One event that happens once every blue moon, as they say. However, she didn't respond yet and instead continued her packing. Once she finished, she finally spoke up.
"You taught me that a lot." She looked at him for a moment, letting him see how she felt, how she always felt. "I hate you." That remark was the last thing she said before walking out of the room with her belongings.
William stood rooted to the spot as he watched Elizabeth storm out of the room, her harsh words echoing in the sudden silence. The venom in her voice, the raw, unfiltered hatred, cut him deeper than any sword ever could. He felt the blood drain from his face, leaving him pale and stunned.
For a long moment, he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. Those three words, spoken with such conviction and loathing, had shaken him to his core. He had always known that Elizabeth resented him in a way, even when she tried to tell herself otherwise, that his coldness and indifference had bred a deep-seated anger and bitterness in his daughter. But to hear her say it out loud, to hear her voice the hatred that had been festering between them for years, it was a blow he hadn't been prepared for.
Slowly, William sank into a chair, his long legs suddenly feeling weak and unsteady. He rubbed a hand over his face, feeling the weight of his mistakes and the consequences of his actions heavy upon his shoulders. The truth of the matter was that he had failed Elizabeth in every way a father could fail a child. He had let his own grief and pain consume him, had allowed it to poison his relationship with his daughter, and now she was left with nothing but hatred and resentment.
But even as he grappled with the painful reality of their situation, William knew that he couldn't let Elizabeth go without trying to make amends, without attempting to bridge the chasm that had grown between them. He had to try, if only to give her a chance at a life free from the shadow of her father's long-held anger.
With a heavy heart and a newfound determination, William pushed himself up from the chair and made his way to the castle entrance. He would see his daughter off, would say goodbye to her properly, and perhaps, if he was brave enough, he would find a way to ask for her forgiveness. As William made his way, the ride arrived, and Elizabeth would get in, not bothering to turn to her father, just as he was there to see her for one last time.
William stood at the entrance of the castle, watching as Elizabeth climbed into her awaiting horse-drawn carriage. She made no move to turn to him, no indication that she even acknowledged his presence. The coldness of her demeanor cut through him like a knife, another painful reminder of the chasm that existed between them.
As the carriage began to move, slowly rolling towards the long, winding road that led away from the castle, William felt a surge of panic rising in his chest. He knew that if he let her go now, without trying to make amends, without attempting to bridge the gap between them, he might never have another chance.
Steeling himself, he stepped forward, his voice raised and urgent as he called out to her.
"Elizabeth!"
The carriage slowed, and for a moment, William thought she might ignore him, that she would continue on her way without a backwards glance. But then, slowly, she turned to face him. Her eyes were dry now, any traces of tears long since vanished, leaving behind a cold, hard gaze that seemed to see right through him. He knew that her hatred was a testament to the pain he had caused her, a pain that he could not undo with a few simple words.
He said, his voice rough with emotion. "I am your father, and I love you. I always have, even if I've never been good at showing it." He paused, searching for the right words, the words he should have said long ago. "I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I'm sorry for everything. I can't promise to be the father you need me to be, but I swear to you, I will try."
Elizabeth looked at him, looked at the desperate look he had on his face to make any amends. But it didn't matter to her; she knocked at her carriage, signaling her readiness to continue.
William stood rooted to the spot, his heart sinking like a stone in his chest as he watched the carriage lurch forward, obeying Elizabeth's command. Her cold, dismissive move was a final blow, a stark reminder that she wanted nothing more to do with him. He knew he should have expected no less from her, should have been prepared for her refusal to hear him out. But the sting of rejection, the painful realization that he had driven his own daughter away, left him reeling nonetheless.
As the carriage disappeared from view, swallowed up by the darkness of the night, William felt a profound sense of loss and regret wash over him. He had been given a chance to make things right, to bridge the chasm between them, and he had failed. Again.
Turning slowly, he made his way back into the castle, each step feeling heavier than the last. The once-warm and inviting castle now felt cold and empty, a fitting reflection of the void that had grown between him and his daughter. That night, as William lay in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, he made a silent vow. He would not give up on Elizabeth, no matter how much she despised him. Somehow, someway, he would find a way to make amends, to be the father she deserved, even if it took every ounce of strength and courage he possessed.
…
Meanwhile, inside her room and sitting in front of her opulent mirror, Vivienne was smiling all the way through. Oh, her joy in knowing what happened today. Seeing Elizabeth break down and her father sending her out of the castle was perfect to fend off with the royal guard. Maybe not entirely, ignoring how her emerald goon got covered in blood by Elizabeth.
After hearing the exchange secretly, she knew William was simply going to focus her attention on her and, slowly but surely, forget Elizabeth's existence. She thought of ways to manipulate him more, to see what her sweet and innocent acts do to sway him. Having her hands on more of the fortune, power, and most importantly, the status of Duchess in the Van De Laar estate.
If she played her cards right, she could earn everything while Elizabeth had nothing. She wanted to see the reaction on her sister's face when she saw that not only her mother's pendant and father's attention was on her, but the control over the estate, its fortune, and the role of duchess to achieve her revenge.
She might not live to see that. What if she died in her time at the royal guard? What if she died in a battle, at a war, or perhaps…an assassination to get rid of her entirely? That would work because no way she would be able to stop her from killing her if she knew.
"Oh, Elizabeth…you will join your dear mother at some point." She murmured with the smirk widening on her face. "With or without my interference…your life shall end before you know it. And William…" She giggled, fixing the pendant given by William. "You will live for a bit before you join your sweet family, and I take everything."
She wanted to stay focused, however. She had to remain secretive before she let one word slip out and ruin everything she fought for. She had a lot of time and patience, especially with money to spend on what her heart desired.
"Like they say…one step at a time."