The end of the world had failed to come. Again.

Estelle crossed her arms, clad in armor, as she watched her father scramble to explain this phenomenon. Just an eclipse after all. Nothing special. Nothing world-ending. He would review the prophecies and recalculate.

There was no doubt in Estelle’s mind that Chul was a fraud. To most of the members of the Conmunis, he was infallible and unreadable, hiding his emotions from everyone. But over the years, Estelle had learned to read her father, through the twitch of his eye, the slight tensing of his shoulders.

He was afraid.

Afraid of what, Estelle was not sure. But she could see it, and she knew that her mother did, too. Why she stayed with Chul was beyond Estelle, but she had the vague notion that love made people do stupid things.

Days passed before her mother finally approached her. “Stelle,” Desya said in greeting.

Estelle did not look up from where she was focusing on sharpening her blade. There was one notch that refused to be sharpened out. “Mother.” As rude a response as she could dare.

Desya did not take the bait. “You should begin courting. Find a young man and marry.”

Estelle did not pause her work. “No.”

“That was not a request,” Her mother said. “Your father wants to arrange something. I convinced him to hold off a small while. Give you a chance to…”

“Marry someone to produce suitable heirs?” Estelle finished. She finally looked up at Desya. “I have no desire to marry anyone here. I have known them from infancy, and frankly, they disgust me.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Desya insisted. Her brow furrowed and her grey eyes were wide. Once, in her childhood, Estelle had been pleased that she shared such a trait with her mother. Now, it was just another thing she tried to ignore. She didn’t want to end up like her parents. The only problem was figuring out how she wanted to end up.

“I will not marry here, now or anytime soon,” Estelle said coldly. “I will do as I please. It is my life, after all.”

“It may be your life,” her mother said quietly. “But you serve a greater purpose than your own pleasure.”

Estelle did not answer and returned to sharpening her blade. Desya lingered for only a moment before she walked off. Estelle watched her go out of the corner of her eye. When she was out of sight, she slumped forward.

She needed a plan.

Not an hour passed before Chul was standing before Estelle with a young man that Estelle recognized as Evander, son of the chef and the midwife.

Estelle rolled her eyes so hard that she felt her body move with them. “No.”

“Stelle,” her father began.

“No,” she said, louder, rising with her tools and her weapon.

“You need to think of the greater good!” Chul exclaimed. “We need more numbers. We need more warriors.”

“And you intend me to bear these warriors,” Estelle summarized. “No. I have no desire to do so, and I will not. You will have to exile me or kill me before I let him anywhere near me. No offense,” She added with a glance at Evander, who just shrugged.

“Give me a moment with my daughter, Evander,” Chul said. He watched as he walked a few dozen yards away, leaning against a tree and casually examining his blade. “Stelle—”

“—Don’t,” Estelle warned. “I don’t particularly care what you have to say on the matter. My decision is final.”

It took a moment for her to register that her father hit her. A sharp pain blossomed across her cheek, and her breathing quickened. Chul was a strong man, and it wasn’t the first time he had hit her, but it was the first time he did so in public. In front of a potential suitor, no less. Before she could think it through, she struck her father back, as hard as she could.

He actually staggered backwards, and Estelle stood her ground as he recovered, calmly attaching her sword to her belt. “Stay,” She warned.

He glanced around, saw all the eyes on them. Chul growled—actually growled—and lunged at his daughter. She sidestepped him calmly, planting her boot on his leg, sending him crashing down. He recovered quickly and drew his knife. It wasn’t unexpected, but it still stung. Estelle drew her sword and parried his attack easily.

“Chul,” She warned again. A great disrespect, but she had the upper hand, and needed to make her point.

The crowd was slowly growing. Estelle spotted her mother and sisters among them and swore quietly. She would prefer they didn’t watch, but there was nothing she could do about it. Her father was driven by anger, his blows clumsy but strong.

Estelle ceded more ground than she gained, but she was fine with that. She saw Evander out of the corner of her eye, talking with her mother. A decision was made, and he led her sisters away from the fight. She was grateful for that, at least. As brief as that distraction had been, it was still a distraction, and she scrambled backward as her father swiped at her midsection.

She could tell she was bleeding, but she didn’t stop. If she stopped, she died. And she had no doubt now, that her father would kill her here. He got like this sometimes, all rage and aggression, but it had never been directed at her before. Estelle was afraid, but she kept moving. She didn’t want to die when she hadn’t yet lived.

So she refocused and pressed forward. Striking to kill, as her father did to her. The crowd was especially silent, and she could just hear the heavy breathing of Chul and the light breaths of herself. She was much younger than her father and had more endurance.

With a well-placed strike, she disarmed her father. He stared at her, prepared to continue even without a weapon. So she tossed her own to the ground and swung at her father. They matched blow for blow, swing for swing, neither gaining ground, but neither losing ground either.

Again, Estelle was gaining the upper hand. Chul was tired, and it showed. His strikes were slowing, and his reflexes diminished. When he threw a punch towards her face, she ducked and barreled into his midsection, knocking them both to the ground. Estelle wrestled his arms to the ground, sitting on top of his chest, using her legs to pin his. His hand moved to grab his knife, in the dirt nearby, but Estelle beat him to it.

She placed it against his throat. “Yield.”

Chul snarled, trying to break her hold. But he was tired, and Estelle still felt good. Great, even. She had wanted to do this since she was fifteen. “I yield,” he said quietly.

The silent crowd began to murmur amongst themselves as Estelle rose. She threw the dagger into the dirt and stalked away, almost hoping Chul would strike at her with her back turned. But he didn’t.

The tears fell as she entered her small shack, her own little home. Whether or not she liked the man, he was her father, and she felt some connection to him. Some familial bond, some wondering what if things were different. But they weren’t and she needed to leave. Before her father found an excuse to have her killed.

Or before she decided to kill him.