The Prodigal Father

Ser Gustave of House Dominic had always been a stern, imposing figure. One must mind their manners, their tongues, their posture, even their prayers under his strict eyes.

But for Annette Fantine Dominic, She always knew the warmth that lay under the chilly, formidable shell. Her father's smiles were rare, but they were there, when he caught a particularly nice fish, when he embraced his wife after a march, when Annette showed him something new she had learned, or when he would present Annette with a new doll, always carved by his own hands when he had time to sit down to relax and whittle. It was lonely life when her father was away, that she would not deny, yet, even as a child, Annette knew there was something inside her father that drove him to work so much.

Perhaps it was not every little girls ideal life, but it was hers, and it was special and not lacking in love. That was what matter the most.

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The king was dead, the land of Duscar laid to ruin, so many slaughtered.
It was called the Tragedy of Duscar for a reason.

Annette did not know the king. She did not know the newly orphaned princeling her father mentored, though he had told her so much about the boy that even as a stranger he felt familiar.

From her home, Annette had been safe from the turmoil and bloodshed. Yet even for Annette, the tragedy's shockwaves reached her.

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Her father was gone. Without a word. Without so much as a hug goodbye.
But he was not amongst the dead. No, he was amongst the living. That much Annette and her mother knew.

But why? Why would he abandon them? Surely he still loved them. But why....

Life with her uncle was less quiet, certainly, and Annette knew that he did love her and her mother. But the warm, albeit lonely life she had lived before was not like this one. If Annette had thought her father strict, her uncle was even more so.

You must be perfect at cooking, at cleaning, at sewing. You must be a proper lady. You are a knights daughter, you must make something of yourself, or you are devaluing your family legacy and the crest your bear.

Annette did not mind too much. She knew he meant it out of love, and she had always loved to learn since she was so young.

But there was always that burning question in her mind. Where had her father gone? Why had he not returned?

The former, she thought she knew. Gustave Dominic was nothing if not a devout man. Surely Garrag Mach would be the most likely place. The monastery. To be as close to the goddess as he could be.

She found herself filled with resolve. She needed to get to the monastery. To the academy.

But surely her uncle would never approve, and Annette was still but a child. How then could she enroll into the academy? She could not pay her way without her uncles help.

No, to pave her way to the academy- to the monastery, she would need to take a different route. One that would cause many a sleepless night and many aches in her muscles. Enrolling in the school for magic scholars was the first step. The work she put herself through was grueling, but it had earned her what she had wanted. It had become her pass to the monastery.

Yet at Garreg Mach her father's face was not one of those amongst the monks and priests or even the Soldiers of the church.

Her hard work, it had seemed, had been for nothing.

But it was not truly for naught. Her true goal was yet still out of reach, but in her pursuit of it she had broaden her horizons. Now she had her studies, and more importantly her friends. Her life was not the lonely thing it had once been. It hurt, that she had been wrong about her fathers whereabouts. But so much good had come out of it.