The insane do not know that they are insane. My father does not know that he is insane. I do though. He has the look in his eyes. He’s a psychopath. He lacks basic empathy. He creates wars. He separates families. He separated me from my family. 

  Anastasia and Eiran were the closest friends I ever had. Now they're both married and my father has kidnapped the bride’s sister because of a war I want no part of — a war that that little girl should never have a part of.

  I stare at the young girl. She looks exactly like her older sister. Just less… naive. Anastasia was always the more sheltered in our little friend group. I used to always tease her about it. Maybe I was a bit jealous that she got the chance to be sheltered. By the looks of it, her little sister didn’t get that chance. Princess Tinka’s childhood isn’t like the rest of ours. We grew up knowing that war could break out at any moment. She grew up in war. And now she is just a pawn.

  I nod at Princess Tinka. 

  I’ve never met her before but she is exactly how I imagined her. When I imagined her, I imagined Anastasia. They look exactly the same. From the long blonde hair, the blue eyes, the rosy cheeks and the pink lips… I’m staring at my childhood best friend again but it isn’t her.

  Princess Tinka nods back curtly. 

  She’s being oddly… calm about all this. Like she is unfazed about all this. As if being held hostage by the very family that kills people like her isn’t terrifying at all.

  “Well!” My father smiles. My father is smiling. If this isn’t uncanny, I don’t know what is. “Now that you have met our guest, Alric, you can take her up to her room.”

  “Uh…” I look at the girl then back at my father. “I don’t know where her room is-”

  “Well it’s right next to your room of course!”

  “Right-…” I nod.

  “How else would you be able to ensure that you are taking care of her right and making sure she doesn’t run away?” He flashes a bright smile at Princess Tinka.

  She rolls her eyes.

  The facade falls quickly and he throws a fireball at her face. I use all my strength to move it to the direction next to her with a subtle gesture of my finger in hopes. It works.

  My father huffs, thinking that he missed.

  I clear my throat. “As we were saying… You said I’m taking care of her?”

  “Yes!” He smiles brightly again. You would think you would be comforted by the sight of your father smiling. I feel very uncomfortable.

  “But father— With the upcoming war, do you really think that me babysitting a little girl is the best ide—”

  My fathers smile drops as he raises an eyebrow. “Are you questioning my decision?”

  I shut my mouth immediately and look down at the ground. “No father.”

  “Good.” This time, the smile doesn’t come back. “You are now dismissed,” he waves me off. “Tinka, follow him.”

  I sigh and leave the throne room, not bothering to wait for her.

  I hear her little footsteps run after me echo through the hallway.

  “Can you slow down?” she huffs. That’s the first time I’ve heard her voice. It has Anastasia’s softness but also a bit of her father’s raspiness. 

  “You either learn to catch up, or you stay behind.”

  “You’re acting like we’re training.” She’s finally caught up but just barely. I slow down my pacing—but just barely so she wouldn’t notice. “You sound like our trainer. Tinka,” she starts to speak in a deep voice,_ _“you gotta move faster if you don’t wanna get killed. Faster!” She shoots a water web out. Well that’s a new one. “Faster!”

  “Uh huh.”

  Princess Tinka snorts. “One time, Anastasia got so overwhelmed by him she almost stabbed him using the water freeze thing.”

  That grabs my attention. “Anastasia almost stabbed someone?”

  “Yeah! It was so funny watching him get all scared that she would go all Neuron state on him,” she laughs.

  “I bet it was…” I mutter. I stop abruptly and Tinka’s forehead hits my back. I raise an eyebrow at her and she smiles nervously. I roll my eyes and open the door for her. “This will be your room. If you have any questions, don’t ask them.” I watch Tinka walk into the large room. “I have only been informed of your stay here not even half an hour ago so I do not know any details.”

  She nods as she looks around. “This’ll… Have to do.”

  “You know…” I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms. “You seem very… How shall I say it? Confident? Fearless? Bratty? When my father could choose to have you killed—or kill you—any moment now.”

  “Your father can’t kill me yet,” she waves me off and opens the small wardrobe. “An empty wardrobe? Seriously?”

  I’m starting to think this girl isn’t so much like her older sister after all. 

  “What makes you so sure he won’t get rid of you? You are the princess to the rival kingdom.”

  “I think he’s using me as leverage to get our land. He should know it won’t work though. My sister is too stubborn for that. And anyway, why are we talking about this? We have bigger worries here,” she points to the wardrobe.

  Stubborn just like her sister.

There are some days where I wished I didn’t exist —— which is basically everyday —— like today.

  The girl is insufferable for a child being held hostage. She’s supposed to be scared. Begging for freedom —— for me to spare her life. But she’s here. In my room. Forcing me to listen to her about her wardrobe requirements. Who does she think she is?

  “… and I need two ball gowns-”

  “What do you need two ball gowns for?” 

  She pauses her list and pacing to face me. “Tí ekán sí apés lejó?” What did you just say?

  I blink. “Uh-” 

  “Why do you think I need ball gowns for?”

  I lean forward from my headboard. “You’re not attending any balls.”

  “You never know,” she shrugs.

  “You’re not getting a ball gown.”

  She narrows her eyes at me.

  This girl sure has a lot of nerve for a hostage.

_  _“What?” I narrow my eyes right back at her.

  She starts crying.

  I blink again. “Are you- Are you crying?”

  She sniffs and nods. “When I was little, me and Star used to always play dress up-”

  “Who’s Star?” I ask, confused.

  “Orío alfís,” she wails. 

  The nickname definitely suits Anastasia.

  I rush over to her, hopping off of my bed. I cover her mouth. “Okay! Okay! Shut up!”

  I can do grown men crying during torture. I can do grown women crying for mercy. But I can not do little girls crying over something as little as dresses.

  “I will get you your ballgowns, your bows and your other crap, okay? Just shut up.”

  She nods and I slowly remove my hand. It’s wet. My hand is wet from her tears. I grab a handkerchief from my pocket and wipe my hand dry.

  She giggles.

  I inhale and exhale deeply. “You’re going to your room.”

  “What?”

  “Come on,” I grab her arm and drag her out despite her protests.

  “Hey!” She punches and hits my arms. “Let go.”

  I heat up my arm not enough to burn her but enough for her to feel it on a slightly painful level.

  I chuck her into her room and shut the door behind me, leaving her alone in the white royal guest room. 

  I slump against the door and sigh.

  I am going to die before I deal with her a second longer.

  “Ballgowns,” I scoff. “Apístós.”

This is chapter 1 and 3 of my first draft of War of Crowns💗The narrator(Alric) is a morally grey character