While The Doll stood there in shock, Father spoke once again, "Doll, I know you’re in there. Open the door.” Father's voice was cold and distant, as it always had been when dealing with The Doll ever since the incident.
Hesitantly The Doll slowly moved towards the closed door of Malina's room, reaching out for the metal doorknob. As soon as her hand touched the knob, she felt the coldness of the metal wash over her hand.
This coldness was a far too familiar feeling to The Doll something that she had grown far too used to back in Gelun.
The Doll remembered kneeling on the cold floor, her silk dress being the only layer of protection between her knees and the stone that lay beneath. For someone of her standard, kneeling was an unbecoming practice, something that a major noble would seldom do even in the presence of a royal. But here in this throne room, before the presence of Father, she was not a major noble; she was simply The Doll.
Father's cold voice cut through the memory, bringing The Doll back to the present, where she stood frozen before the door. "Doll, don't make me wait any longer.” The firm warning led The Doll to immediately turn the knob, fearing his disappointment should she not open the door. The Doll could never defy an order from Father.
As the door to Malina's room opened, Father's tall frame slowly came into view. The Doll felt her mind reel with questions that she couldn't answer.
Why was Father here?
How was Father here?
How did Father even know The Doll was in Malina's room?
The Doll would never get the chance to ask these questions as a pain burned across her cheek and the sound of a slap echoed throughout the room. The Doll didn't bother to bring her hand up to nurse her cheek; instead, she moved her eyes up to meet his gaze, saying, "Sorry, Father.” While The Doll didn't know exactly what she was apologizing for, she figured it must relate to the duel.
Father looked down on The Doll with his eyes that The Doll recalled being a bright red color. Laced over these eyes was a look that The Doll could only describe as contempt. He brought the pale hand that had just slapped The Doll up to his hair, running it through the slicked-back black strands with pieces of light gray matted into the perfectly dark color.
After Father finished fixing his hair, which was now perfectly in line with his neatly trimmed beard, he spoke, “Why must you insist on making my life harder, Doll?” Despite the slap he had just delivered to The Doll, Father's voice remained as cold and distant as it had previously.
The Doll attempted to think of a proper response or excuse but found herself unable to, knowing that this duel was her fault. In lieu of being able to respond The Doll brought her gaze down in shame, breaking her eye contact with Father.
Unable to meet his gaze The Doll allowed her eyes to settle upon the dark clothing that adorned Father's frame. A long black fur coat draped from his shoulders, a staple of most clothing in Gelun due to the cold nature of the land. Beneath this coat of fur, Father wore a fitted black doublet with a high collar that rose around his neck and silver buttons that held it together. From his neck, Father wore a silver locket identical to The Dolls' own, proudly displaying his connection to the Ashencroft lineage.
A gloved hand placed itself underneath The Dolls chin as Father forced her gaze back into his own eyes. The Doll felt the cold metal of Father's wedding band mesh with the warmth of the gloves on his hand. When The Doll met Father's gaze once again, she saw that look of contempt grow further as he spoke again, "Don't look away when I speak to you, Doll; it is unbecoming of you.” The Doll felt herself shrink in his presence despite the fact that she was now looking higher up.
The Doll responded quickly, not wishing to disappoint Father further, "I'm sorry, Father.” The Doll apologized once again for disappointing him even further.
For a moment the two stood there in silence as The Doll felt Father's scrutinizing gaze inspect her. His eyes slowly traveled down her face before stopping at her chin. The Doll immediately tensed when she realized what had caught his attention.
Along The Doll's chin, just slightly above where Father held his grip, were several faint red marks from where Malina's nails had pierced her skin the night before.
The Doll had forgotten about the marks, allowing the pain to fade, but under Father's gaze, they felt as if they had been freshly made. Father narrowed his eyes. “Where did these come from?" He asked a simple question that The Doll found herself unable to answer.
The sound of a high-pitched yawn suddenly echoed around the room, accompanied by a slim, multi-colored light piercing through the top of Father's coat. Father's hand quickly retracted from The Dolls chin as both parties turned their gaze to the other side of the room, where Malina now sat up on her bed rubbing her eyes.
Malina stretched her arms above her head and said in a tired voice, “Now could you leave before I aim elsewhere, old man?” After asking the rhetorical question, Malina yawned yet again, allowing her arms to fall against the bed.
The Doll immediately brought her hand up to her cheek to hide the mark that was left behind from Father's slap. Malina narrowed her eyes and looked to The Doll, “Who is this?” She asked evidently still not entirely awake by the yawn that shortly followed the question.
Father spoke before The Doll got a chance to reply, "Ah, the failed princess.” He turned his gaze back to The Doll paying Malina no mind. “I am conversing with my creation; no need for you to get involved.” The word choice made The Doll flinch ever so slightly.
These words seemed to fully wake Malina from her slumber as she now sat up looking fully awake. “What did you call me?” Malina said a tinge of venom emanating from the words she spoke.
Father opened his mouth to respond, but before he could The Doll felt Malina's gaze settle on the mark that The Doll was attempting to cover. Deciding to react before the worst outcome came to pass The Doll moved in front of Father and ran towards the bed, tackling Malina onto it. The Doll’s fears seemed to be correct as she felt the beams of the piercenium dissipate around her as Malina hit the bed.
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Expecting resistance The Doll held onto Malina as tight as she could.
Yet this resistance never came as The Doll instead felt Malina sink into The Doll's grip. Taking advantage of Malina's lack of resistance The Doll brought her voice down to a whisper, "Don't hurt him; he's Father.” The Doll intended for her voice to be calm, but the request came out more like a plea.
Malina brought her arms around The Doll's body and chose to respond in an equally low voice, “But he hurt what's mine, Dollie.” After saying this, Malina brought her hand up, running it through The Doll’s hair. The action made The Doll realize how close the two were, causing a heat to form in her cheeks.
That strange feeling once again rose up in The Doll causing her to jump off Malina, landing on the edge of the bed. As The Doll attempted to regain her composure, she heard Malina giggle on the other side of the bed.
The Doll allowed the warm feeling of this moment to pass for a moment feeling her nerves slightly alleviated until Father's cold voice cut through the moment, “If you two are done fooling around, I would still like to speak with my creation.” The Doll’s heart sank as she was brought back to the reality of the situation she was currently in.
Malina's giggling stopped at the sound of his voice as she responded in The Doll’s place, "I'm not sure my father would appreciate hearing that Lord Ashencrfot hits his daughter.” Malina stated, not bothering to hide the disdain in her voice.
The threat caused The Doll to turn her head towards Father, worried about his response.
However, rather than acting outraged or worried, Father simply waved his hand dismissively. “How I choose to discipline my creation is of my own concern.” The Doll knew Father was right; she knew that Malina didn't have the right to interfere with Father's wishes.
But still The Doll felt strangely happy someone was defending her.
Even if The Doll did deserve whatever punishment Father may have.
The Doll knew she should intervene before a true argument broke out between the two, but in Father's presence she never could speak up. Regardless The Doll shouldn't intervene either way; Father could handle this, and Father was in the right. The Doll merely needed to sit there and wait for Malina to stop arguing this fact.
Malina never one to back down quickly, continued speaking, “Regardless of that, I'm sure my father would be angered if he knew you defied a direct order from me.” The Doll couldn't help but notice this was the second time now Malina had mentioned her own father.
Before The Doll could reason out why Malina was relying so heavily on her father's name, Father made a noise. The Doll hadn't heard since the incident twelve years ago. Father let out a low chuckle for a brief moment before saying, “Both of us know you hold less weight with the king than even my failure of a daughter.” Father took a step forward after saying these words slowly, walking over to the bed where Malina and The Doll sat.
This statement caused Malina to hesitate much like she had back in the headmasters' office, allowing Father to speak again, "You're his perfect disappointment, the one stain on his rulership over the kingdom. It's no wonder he would hide you away at this backwater academy.” He continued moving towards the two.
The Doll heard Malina grit her teeth as she simply said, “Be quiet.” Her voice held a sense of anger far larger than any The Doll had heard from Malina in the past.
Father didn't back down, ignoring Malina's words as he continued to speak, “I suppose you and my own creation are similar in that way; it must be why you two do seem to get along so.” He continued his advance, reaching the end of the bed where The Doll sat.
The closeness caused The Doll to shrink away from Father, choosing to instead look at Malina. What The Doll saw shocked her as she saw four beams of piercenium, which were slowly manifesting around Malina, aimed towards Father. The Doll knew she should interfere again, but she couldn't interrupt Father's lecture; that would be far too disrespectful.
No, it wasn't a matter of respect. The Doll was merely afraid of Father's wrath.
Malina gritted her teeth and said, "Don't say that about Dollie.” The piercenium around her slowly manifesting into a more solid shape as she spoke.
Nervously The Doll looked back to Father to see what it was he intended to do next. It was only upon turning around that The Doll realized Father was not looking at Malina but rather directly at The Doll. More specifically, his cold gaze lay on The Doll’s chin, where the wounds inflicted by Malina lay open for him to see.
The Doll was certain that even if Father wasn't looking at Malina, he could still sense the piercenium around her, yet he continued speaking, “Do you intend to do to my creation what you did to that peasant girl?” Father now leaned against the bed frame, staring closely at the wounds on The Doll’s chin. “What was her name?” Father added on much to The Doll’s confusion.
What girl was he speaking of?
Malina responded, in a low, almost defeated voice, "Don't say it.” The words came out almost like a plea far from the confidence The Doll expected from Malina.
Father ignored Malina and snapped his fingers. “Ah yes, I believe it was Dh—" Father would not get to finish his statement as The Doll saw four beams of multicolored light all headed straight towards his head.
Calmly Father moved his head in such a way that all four beams passed harmlessly by his head, much to The Dolls' shock. The Doll knew Father was strong, one of the strongest people she had ever seen, but from what she had seen Malina do, these beams should by all logic have killed Father where he stood.
Father stopped leaning on Malina's bed frame but didn't move to back up, saying, “Much slower than I expected; your condition must be catching up to you.” The Doll felt her confusion grow further at this statement.
Who was the girl?
What was the condition Father spoke of?
So many questions that The Doll couldn't ask not in the presence of Father. All The Doll could do was sit here in silence and watch the scene before her unfold. The Doll felt her fists clench for a reason she couldn't understand.
Why was she angry?
Malina surely deserved this for stepping in Fathers' way. Malina had no right to question Father for his treatment of The Doll. Nobody had any right to question Father's treatment of her. If Malina understood the true circumstances, she would understand that The Doll deserved this treatment.
But why was she still so angry?
The Doll heard Malina's heavy breaths behind her and couldn't bring herself to look Malina in the eyes. Then before fully understanding the reason for her own anger The Doll shouted, “ENOUGH!” The Doll's own breathing was now heavy, matching Malina’s, as if the act of shouting was tiring for her.
Father's eyes widened in shock looking at The Doll for the first time with an expression other than contempt or disgust on his face. “What did you just say?” Father said his usual cold voice was replaced with one of disbelief.
The Doll looked down, unable to meet Father's eyes, as she said in a much quieter voice, “Whatever punishment you have for me, just say it but leave Malina alone.” The Doll added on even quieter, “She’s a royal; it's not right.” The Doll knew her reasoning didn't make sense; Father already established that he didn't care for Malina's status. Yet it was the only reason The Doll could come up with to defend her impudence in interrupting Father.
The shock on Father's face disappeared as quickly as it arrived, with the usual cold indifference taking its place. “Very well, it's of no matter considering you will be leaving Dreadwood.” Even his voice had gone back to its usual col—
I don't want to leave.
The Doll found her thoughts frozen in place upon fully registering Father's words.