The Bald Princess

~Eight~

We met like the ocean meets the sky, in secrecy. You were like the clouds, soaring high and I was like oceans, holding a tsunami back. There's no love story like ours, Sire, you bent down to embrace me and I rose up to engulf you.

Atarah

Royals never dropped civilians to their home. Never. So when Warrior Duncan walked me home, my neighbourhood was stunned. For initial seconds, they felt the Warrior Chief in General, Sir Ansel Duncan was here to punish me. Probably to whip me. But soon their misconceptions got cleared when he simply dropped me home. It wasn't normal for them to see a royal coming into their lanes to drop a civilian, especially the one whom everybody tried to avoid. I wasn't used to royals or anybody dropping me home. But Warrior Duncan seemed unfazed by all the attention. He wasn't ashamed of walking beside me. He didn't look disgusted.

I had insisted him not to walk me home. Nobody would dare to misbehave with me. After all, they all feared to even touch me. They could hurt me, physically— yes. They could throw stones at me but other than that, I knew they won't do a thing. But Warrior Duncan was adamant on walking me home. 'Its okay, healer, if you don't want to walk beside me, I'll walk behind you. But I will walk you home.' I didn't knew why he kept insisting so much on dropping me home. He had been like this since I had treated his wounds. What changed after that?

When we reached my home, we stopped. Warrior Duncan stood there, waiting for me to get into my house. But I turned to look at him, instead. He rose his brows when I took a step towards him. It was always him, who walked towards me and it was always me who took steps back to keep distance amid us. But today when I walked towards him, he seemed a bit shocked. Even I was. But other than his eyes twitching a bit, he didn't give any reaction, he stood impassive. His hold on his sabre tightened when I gazed into his dark eyes.

"You didn't had to walk me home, Sir Duncan. But you did, thank you for accompanying me till here." I said softly, smiling at him and he shook his head, staring right into my eyes. What's with him, always looking into my eyes?

"It helps me to know what you're thinking, healer." He said, making my eyes to widen as I stared at him, with me gaping at him.

"What?"

"I like holding eye contacts because it helps me know what you're thinking while I am having a conversation with you, healer." He said, making me swallow nervously as I looked at him, a part of me was petrified of him. But even a deeper part of me was calm— way too calm.

"How did you know what I was thinking right now? Or all those times when you answered the questions I never voiced?" I asked, my voice shaky and my eyes wide with horror and shock. But he was calm— amused even. He took a step towards me, his body posture screaming the authority I knew he had. But there was something else, something he was hiding— something more superior, something more dangerous.

And then he smiled. Warrior Ansel Duncan smiled. It passed chills down my spine. I had never seen him smiling and it was the smile that made me shiver. His canines protruding out of his lips, making him look even more predatory, even more ravening than before. He looked ready to hunt on his prey. And somewhere deep inside my mind and heart, I knew, I believed, I was the prey, he would hunt on.

"You're not simply a prey to me, healer. You don't know what you are to me. And shh," He shushed me, his eyes mocking me of the fear that kept pulsating inside me, making my heart to almost jump out of my chest in fear. He calmed me— he really did but I could never deny how much he scares me.

"Do not question me now, healer. There are a lot of things you don't know about me but you'll eventually know. I'll eventually explain you everything. Now, go and rest, healer, you must have been tired and hungry. I'll meet you soon. Very soon."

And with that he left, leaving me clueless, scared, confused, frustrated, with no answers but zillions of questions racing my mind. How could he know what I kept thinking? Was he really what Bailey had told me he was? Or.... or was this another trap of the royals to punish me?

Father was reading his book, sitting on the chair when I walked in. I knew he saw Warrior Duncan dropping me home. Though he wasn't outside, I knew he saw me with him. He looked up from his book when he heard me clearing my throat, intentionally; his lips curled up in a smile as he placed his bookmark on the page he was reading before he closed his book and stood up from his chair and walked closer to me. There was this thing about my father, he never chose anger over his calmness.

He had warned me to never cross the royals again. And not because I was cursed but because he knew, every single time I crossed a royal, even if it was unintentional, they would punish me— brutally. And he could do nothing about it. Nobody could and nobody did. Nobody cared. And even today, when a royal walked me home, I knew he didn't like it but his eyes, they were still soft, he was still smiling. He slowly stroked my face before looked at my bag with confusion.

"I was waiting for you, my daughter. I got worried as you usually come home an hour ago." He said and I bit my lips, looking at him sheepishly as I unzipped my bag and removed the shirt I had bought for him.

"Forgive me, father. I was buying a shirt for you. Weather is changing now and you barely had any shirts left for your own use. So I thought, you won't mind a new shirt. Do you like it?" I asked as I placed my bag down and father looked at the shirt, gently holding it in his hands, as if it wasn't a piece of clothing but a precious stone. His eyes brimmed with tears as he looked at me, from the shirt.

"Oh, my child, you didn't had to buy me a shirt. Even you don't have any dresses left for yourself. Should've bought something for yourself, my daughter." I smiled at his concern and cupped his palms before wrapping my arms around him. My old man. How I wish the whole world would be like him. Calm. Loving. Understanding. And appreciative.

But isn't this the reality of the world? Just because we expect good in other people, doesn't mean they also look for the good in this world. I want this world to be like my father but it's impossible for another man to be like him. My old man was one of his own kind.

"My dresses can wait another year, father. You, however are teaching back in the school. A teacher needs to look presentable infront of his students, hm? I'll quickly freshen up and then cook some dinner for us. Okay?" I said and he nodded his head, chuckling softly as he lightly hit my forehead.

"We only have potatoes left in our house, my child. I forgot to buy some groceries, today. I'll buy some vegetables tomorrow. Will that be okay?" Father asked, his eyebrows pinched together in regret and I smiled gently at him as I nodded my head. He had nothing to be sorry for.

"Potatoes are a whole meal in families like us and many, father. Do not stress too much. I'll be right back."

I quickly took a bath, not really rubbing any flowers on my skin today. I didn't want any fragrance on my skin tonight. I wanted to feel my skin as it really was. I quickly wiped my body with a towel before wearing my old home gown. I wrapped another scarf securely around my scalp before I rushed out of the bathroom, into the kitchen to cook us some dinner. I was already late. And father must be really hungry.

"You were quick." Father said, impressed as he shut his book close and walked towards me in the kitchen. I giggled as I nodded my head as I started pealing the potatoes.

"I had to. I was an hour late and you must be hungry, no? I'll quickly roast the potatoes with spices like mother used to when we didn't really had anything to eat and I just saw we have some rice left in the container. I'll quickly saute them in tomatoes." I said and he nodded his head, suddenly looking at me firmly, intently. His happy, joyful expression suddenly turned stern.

"Yes, I'm hungry, my child. But what about you? Are you not hungry? Or were the bakeries Bailey brought you today were enough to sate your hunger?" He asked in his low voice. Smile, jests, jokes, everything left his tone and I swallowed nervously at his firm, fatherly tone. I slowly turned my face to the side, to look at him with remorse filling my eyes.

"I..... I am sorry, father." I said softly, my lips pressed together and he shook his head, looking at me in disappointment. And that was the thing, he never got angry on me. He never scolded me. But the disappointment in his eyes killed me. And I never angered him but I disappointed him. And it felt such a failure to disappoint your father.

"So you did lie to me." He said lowly and I licked my lips, unable to look into his eyes anymore. "Why, my child? Haven't I taught you to always be honest? And you don't lie to people who love you, my child. I knew you were lying in the morning. I always know when you're lying and yet you keep on lying to me. Is there any specific reason as why you think lying would get you out of any problem?"

Tears slipped down my eyes as I looked at him, helplessly. I didn't even knew why I was crying. Tears just kept rolling down my eyes.

"Because we didn't had much food left in the morning. And honestly speaking, father, I can't even take a bite down my throat unless I treat the people in the infirmary. I don't feel hungry anymore. Every time I try to feed myself, it feels like I'll go sick and puke everything out. I know, father, I shouldn't be lying to you but I don't really see another option. If I don't eat, even you won't eat but my eating disorders aren't letting me eat properly. And I..... I didn't wanted to stress you, father. Please forgive me."

He opened to his mouth to say something but closed it shut, as if he was trying to take everything I had just thrown at him.

"You.... you are growing anorexic?" He asked in fear and I bit my lips, shaking my head.

"It's not anorexia, father. I am not purposely trying to starve myself because I think I'm growing weight or something but it's my guilt, my remorse, my pain which doesn't let me eat, father. The guilt that somewhere, something bad is happening because of me. My fear, my guilt is taking my appetite away and my body got so used to the hunger that I can barely manage to eat anything without feeling the urge to puke."

"You're getting depressed." He said, looking at me with those eyes which made me wish to break down. I quickly averted my gaze from him. Fearing that I would break down any moment.

"I don't know, father. It's just that....... everything is getting too much for me to bear now. People don't want to get treated by me because they fear my curse would destroy them too. People give me way when I walk on the road because by touching me, they fear they would get bald too. The disgust in their eyes pains me and as much as I deny things, as much as you try to make me understand things, the truth is it hurts. It hurts the same everytime people look at me like it's my fault that I am bald. It hurts, father. It hurts to know that nobody would really fall in love with me because they too would fear to fall for me."