It was a classic tale. You were a baron’s daughter, the daughter of the baron’s first wife. At the age of 15, your mother passed, and your father’s concubine became the lady in charge of the household. She and her daughter, who was younger than you, did everything in their power to make your life a living hell. And after years you were used to the abuse and torture. To her, you were a thorn, threatening her daughter’s position.

Even the staff soon learned you held no importance in the household, and so, they turned away from you.

You had long lost hopes of inheriting anything from your cold father, whom shut you out upon your mother’s death. He loved the concubine more anyways. In his eyes, too, you were a thorn. The only person who did care for you was your childhood friend, whom had long left for WWI. Currently you were in the gardens with your step mother, Victoria. “You ungrateful wench!” She screamed at you, her cane coming down to hit your back harshly just as you tried to push yourself on the ground. “Look at what your stupid pet has done to my rose bushes? It must be killed, both of you must be killed!” Another hit, making you cry out in pain.

The soldiers around the estate watched. This was a normal occurrence. No one ever tried to help you. To stand up to you.

Just then your step-mother was stopped by a cold harsh voice. “Stop this instance, woman.” A man stepped forward. Cerdic had grown so much, you barely recognized him. He was towering above your step mother, his pale grey eyes sharp and unforgiving, the medals on his military uniform. With a sharp glare from him, your step mother stepped back, her grip around her bloodied cane faltering. His eyes fell on your bruised form, immediately softening. Cerdic crouched down, reaching out a hand to help you up.

“Arrest all the soldiers who are watching.” He made a hand motion to his men, who immediately grabbed at the helpless soldiers. “Bury them all alive.”

Cerdic Cherished

Oswald Divine power

Kenelm brave helmet