Beneath the warm sun

2

I finally started to grow, I was slowly  getting taller. My legs were getting longer along with my torso and my arms, my face was getting more pointy and my hair grew a lot more than I thought it would. I looked at my reflection in the lake, frowning as I touched every feature that changed. Being 14 years old felt weird. My mom was always showing me daughter's from her friend's that she thought would do great spouses and wives. Every times it would happen I would stay polite to the girl. Smile, presentation, sometimes a kiss on the hand and when she was gone with her family I had to tell my mom that she wasn't the kind of « wife I wanted » , none of the women I ever see made me want to get married . They talked the same way and acted the same way around me, I do agree of course that they were all very pretty and smelled like a fresh bloomed flower on a spring day during the morning. Yet nothing lighted up a candle inside of me, the only thing that did a similar feeling was fighting. Feeling my blood boil of stress, my hand get moist as I hold a spear or a sword, my breathing arching at each attack dodged. This what was making me happy but only my father seem to understand, maybe cause we are more alike. I tapped my finger on my knee, my leg crossed over the other one as I was rocking my feet up and down to a determinate rythme . I had finished training a while ago and with no friend, days could get long. My eyes trailed to the window. Teens of my age playing happily as if nothing could get to them, dancing like male birds trying to parade the females into sexual intercourse to create life. I sighed and looked down at my tunic. A freshly cleaned white tunic that my mom bought, it looked like the feathers of a dove who took his liberty back from the restraining cage of gold that was holding him prisoner. My mother got closer to me with a pair of scissors made out of bronze, I slowly got up and sat on a chair in front of her. She was humming a very relaxing song that made me sleepy. I didn't fall asleep of course but it was relaxing. She delicately cutted off pieces of my hair to shorten them a bit. My dark blond curls falling a bit over my face, she would tell me how raffinate medium long hair suited me. I didn't really care about how I looked either, people who care too much are most likely to become superficial.

My father went to « work » again, I was helping my mother inside the house doing chores. When I was done I could finally get out of this suffocating place with walls and take a deep breath of fresh cold air. I had less and less time to train because of that, it was frustrating but I knew she needed help. It was quiet as I was passing the broom until my mother bursted out happy as she was reading a letter, I would lie if I said Didn't jump on place. She rushed to me and kissed my forehead. I watched her confused, she looked like a child who just got a new toy, already ready to destroy it. She handed me the letter happily. My eyebrows frowned in anger.

- The Cirillo's daughter?! No way.

My mom stopped jumping of joy and stared at me lost. The Cirillo were wealthy and covered in gold, but no matter how much money they had I despised them. She figdeted with her fingers. As her eyes were scrupting me. I wanted to burn that letter. They wanted to marry me to their daughters! I refuse, I never liked them, any other woman would be better. She was uncaring and annoying, even the worst illness seem more charming to my eyes. Dying with the disappointment of my father glaring down on me was less of a torture.

- But, don't you want a wife?

I chewed the inside of my cheeks like some dried meat. I didn't knew What to say. I want to go to war and fight. Not get married..

- I'm uninterested in marriage for now mother. I almost threw up the words.

I would never get married, I'd prefer my head to be cut off and used as a cup of wine by a group of merciless cannibals than get married, especially with Evangeline Cirillo. Her ginger hair with a golden shining reflection under the bright sun, making her look like her hair were made out of pure fire. Guys my age would often drool over her dollish eyes, glamorous  eyelashes and petite frame, she almost looked like a princess but the attitude didn't come with her look. She was a brat of the worst kind, spoiled and greedy, she wasn't pleasant to be around. She was approximately the same age as me. I don't think she even likes me, both of us dislike the other. Our families probably just want the alliance coming with the wedding like the bad herbs coming with their disgusting roots that are making this useless thing even much more despicable. I hope for once she'll be on my side so that we can avoid this angering  and bothersome supposing wedding.