"Mama, guess what!" exclaimed a young Law, only known as Anya at the time. Her tail flicked side to side and her ears twitched. Her eyes sparkled at what she was going to tell her mother, Queen Elise.
Anya had witnessed yet another public trial, held by none other than her father, King Elijah. Every so often there would be a trial, trying to prove one guilty of a crime. Her father always assumed someone was guilty and never tried to prove innocence. Currently, the recent trial was trying to prove that a common peasant had stolen food from the royal family.
She remembered all the details. Anya had sat on the stage, her eyes watching the crowd of people. Some were spitting words at the poor boy, only about Anya's age. Others were giving him compassionate looks, but none would say anything; no one wanted to slight the king. Anya listened to her father question the boy, spouting out false information. But of course, who could do anything? He was the king after all.
Next to her, Anna had a look of disgust on her face, the complete opposite of Anya. Anna found her father's cruel trial sickening. Anya didn't understand her sister's view point. Yes, it seemed a little unfair, and she would personally have let the boy go free. But it was their father! He was suppose to be a model of what they were suppose to be! What they should strive to be!
Anna didn't understand, Anya thought. Anya thought her father was a nice king, a little unjust at time, but overall good. And that's why she wanted to be like him..Well, not exactly. She wanted to bring peace to the land by punishing criminals and the like, just like Elijah. Anya would just do it a little differently.
Regardless, she found that watching him would help her in the future if she were to be like her father. She watched the way his eyes bore into the boy and how his stance was tall. He didn't stutter or hesitate at all. Anya sat up straight in her chair, just like how her father stood with his back straight as well. She felt someone staring at her, and her father had glanced, giving a small nod of approval.
Anya beamed and payed even more attention. When the trial finished, the boy had been sentenced to life in prison over a loaf of bread. Everyone was dismissed.
And here they were, Anya's knees on the ground and her torso sprawled across her mother. "Papa finished the trial! The boy was guilty apparently," she said, her voice held slight doubt, but smiled regardless.
Her mother frowned and pet her hair. She took her daughter's face into her hands and she spoke gently. "You love your father don't you?"
Anya nodded the best she could with her face being squished softly.
"I know you want to be like him, and that's fine. But promise me something, please Anya. Don't be so harsh! Not everyone deserves the same treatment your father gives."
Anya frowned. Was her mother saying she didn't agree on her father's decision? She nodded softly, her eyes no longer gazing into her mother's, but instead were directed towards the side.
She stood up and held her arms behind her back and bowed at her mother before leaving the room. Anya loved her papa. She was going to follow in his footsteps, one way or another.
Anya had witnessed yet another public trial, held by none other than her father, King Elijah. Every so often there would be a trial, trying to prove one guilty of a crime. Her father always assumed someone was guilty and never tried to prove innocence. Currently, the recent trial was trying to prove that a common peasant had stolen food from the royal family.
She remembered all the details. Anya had sat on the stage, her eyes watching the crowd of people. Some were spitting words at the poor boy, only about Anya's age. Others were giving him compassionate looks, but none would say anything; no one wanted to slight the king. Anya listened to her father question the boy, spouting out false information. But of course, who could do anything? He was the king after all.
Next to her, Anna had a look of disgust on her face, the complete opposite of Anya. Anna found her father's cruel trial sickening. Anya didn't understand her sister's view point. Yes, it seemed a little unfair, and she would personally have let the boy go free. But it was their father! He was suppose to be a model of what they were suppose to be! What they should strive to be!
Anna didn't understand, Anya thought. Anya thought her father was a nice king, a little unjust at time, but overall good. And that's why she wanted to be like him..Well, not exactly. She wanted to bring peace to the land by punishing criminals and the like, just like Elijah. Anya would just do it a little differently.
Regardless, she found that watching him would help her in the future if she were to be like her father. She watched the way his eyes bore into the boy and how his stance was tall. He didn't stutter or hesitate at all. Anya sat up straight in her chair, just like how her father stood with his back straight as well. She felt someone staring at her, and her father had glanced, giving a small nod of approval.
Anya beamed and payed even more attention. When the trial finished, the boy had been sentenced to life in prison over a loaf of bread. Everyone was dismissed.
And here they were, Anya's knees on the ground and her torso sprawled across her mother. "Papa finished the trial! The boy was guilty apparently," she said, her voice held slight doubt, but smiled regardless.
Her mother frowned and pet her hair. She took her daughter's face into her hands and she spoke gently. "You love your father don't you?"
Anya nodded the best she could with her face being squished softly.
"I know you want to be like him, and that's fine. But promise me something, please Anya. Don't be so harsh! Not everyone deserves the same treatment your father gives."
Anya frowned. Was her mother saying she didn't agree on her father's decision? She nodded softly, her eyes no longer gazing into her mother's, but instead were directed towards the side.
She stood up and held her arms behind her back and bowed at her mother before leaving the room. Anya loved her papa. She was going to follow in his footsteps, one way or another.
