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Something was wrong with Father.
Such was the thought that constantly plagued Kana’s mind. A pestering feeling that never truly went away. Though strangest of all was that she was unsure as to when this feeling started. It seemed too familiar to be something recent, and yet, she’d never thought to question her father in the past.
Perhaps it was the amalgamation of smaller things, slowly building up until she became aware. Little things that reminded her of the war she’d gone through as a child. Reminded her of the dragon they had slain all those years ago.
It started off small, what with her father seeming more distant and quieter. Always talking to himself. Sometimes even talking to nobody at all. There were more than a few occasions where Kana heard the man seemingly talking to someone, but when she’d enter the room, there was no one there besides her father.
Still, it hadn’t bothered her then as the Vallite king still wore a smile on his face as he doted upon his daughter. That supposed bond is what kept her in the castle. It stopped her from running away with her mother and brother. She couldn’t understand why they left at the time, but the cracks began to show soon after.
The yato—her father’s precious divine weapon—was something he’d begun to distance himself from. No longer would it remain on his hip, and when he did carry it, it seemed a burden upon him. As though holding the sacred object caused him great pain and discomfort. It wasn’t long before he’d locked it away in the royal vault, never to be seen again.
Perhaps she had begun to notice more as she spent less time around her father. As she grew older, she would devote more and more time to her studies and training. Flora’s gently hand would guide her through important readings, making certain the princess followed along.
There was a warmth in the woman, despite her being from the Ice Tribe. While she would wake the princess with a cold touch to her ears, her hands were warm when helping the girl dress. There was a gentleness in her smile—like a parent watching over their child—that only existed when they were alone.
The same could not be said of the other people who surrounded the princess. Her aunts and uncles, their hands were always cold and their eyes dull. It was almost as though they were devoid of life, simply going through the motions required of their station.
When Kana thought on it, she remembered each of them being injured in the war, no longer able to fight. Some nagging part of her memory wished to say they had died long ago. But that simply couldn’t be. The dead cannot walk among the living. And yet, the vague shadows of her memory haunted her.
She would notice how the servants seemed to avoid them and her father both. Yet they never seemed to shy away from her. Had they the same uncomfortable feeling as she around her aunts and uncles? She could not say, as when she questioned them, their eyes would never meet hers, lips sealed tight.
And yet, it was only now, when she was almost an adult, that she questioned the oddities she saw in her father. His dull red eyes with heavy bags beneath. How they never seemed to truly see Kana, even when looking in her direction. He was always locked away in the throne room, alone as he muttered things to himself. Kana was unsure when she last heard her father speak a truly coherent sentence.
The most understandable thing he’d said of recent only left the princess more confused. “Kana, have you seen your brother? I thought he’d be reading in the library around now.”
She swallowed thickly when she heard the question. Shigure had been gone for over a decade. Her father had to have known that. But the words were caught in her throat, unable to give an honest answer. What should she say—no, what *could* she say in such a situation?
All she could do was stand beside her father. Stand there and watch how he slipped from her grasp, every trace of the man he once was now lost. Realizing much too late that she should have listened to her mother—that she should have run all those years ago.
Never once did she question why she hadn’t done so: she knew she’d been young and blinded by her love for her father. No, the only question she had was how long she’d known. How long ago did her mind notice before her heart accepted the cold reality?
How long ago did her father become the very dragon he’d slain?