Little Lady Soldier

Thunder roared overhead, and lightning raced down towards the water, striking it mercilessly. The darkness was interrupted with brilliant, bright flashes, giving me a moment to observe the environment around me. I was surrounded by water, and by the looks of it, land is far, far away from my small, brown rowboat.

Something rushes by suddenly, bumping the underside of my boat. It sways violently from side to side, and my hands fly to grip the sides, closing my eyes tightly. I'm taking shallow breaths, panting, praying for the nightmare to stop. I know it's one for sure, as I've had it every night for the past three years. But I know it's far from over, because what's coming next is ingrained in my memory.

The boat tips over, giving into the water's calling waves, dragging me into the dark, murky depths with it. I flail wildly, but I lose the hopeless battle to the ocean as soon as I start fighting. I'm drowning, falling ever more. The water wraps its cold arms around my torso, tightening its grip until I feel my lungs crushing under the pressure. Oxygen is fleeting, but I try, try to breathe for as long as I can, though every attempt makes me realize only more how this will end.

I am going to die.

My death is inevitable, and every single night, I'm reminded of my imminent punishment at the end of the line. One day, I'll get to fight in the war. I'll pull on my chain-mail shirt and armor, fasten my belt around my waist and clip on the sword's sheath. I'll pull back my hair and put on a silver helmet, and when I look into the cracked mirror of my quarters, I will see a warrior. A warrior being sent to the front lines to die, in turn, finally paying for her crimes.

---

I jolt awake, sweat having drenched my body and white silk nightgown. Thick brown locks of hair that strayed from my braid stick to my face, and I sit up slowly, grimacing at the pain in my back. I pull my knees to my chest and set my forehead on my kneecaps, trying to slow my breathing. I always have to remind myself that it's a nightmare, a painful reminder that haunts even my restless nights.

There's a knock at the door, and I can't help but jump. However, to avoid making any sound of surprise, I bit my lip as hard as I can, which helps. Even if it starts to bleed.

Wiping the blood away with the back of my hand, I pull myself to my feet, dragging the bed covers away from my sweaty frame. I don't bother pulling on a robe to cover myself, because I know who waits on the other end of the towering oak door.

Cade.

He knocks again, and I place a shaking hand on the silver door handle, pulling it open. I look up to meet a gray pair of eyes, ones filled with a sort of concern.

"Again?" Cade asks, swiping blonde bangs out of his eyes so that he can see me better. I've gotten used to these good mornings.

"Yes. You know that, it's been.. what, three years?"

He shrugs. "Something like that." My best friend takes in my appearance, raising a brow. "You're not ready?"

"Ready for what?" I tilt my head to the side, stretching my hands above my head, letting out a quiet complain when pain shot up my spine.

Cade sighs, placing a hand on my head, as if checking for a fever. Seemingly satisfied, he pulls away. "The parade's today."

A groan escapes my dry lips and I let my head hang backwards, scrunching up my face childishly. I've been promoted recently to the Royal Guard, by Cade's request, and my first assignment is today. The Parade of Fools is today, in a few hours, and I am to help escort the queen through the entirety of the event.

"Come on, Sophie, go get ready."

I shut the door in his face, and can hear him complain on the other side. I roll my eyes, quickly scrambling to change out of my nightclothes and into the day's uniform. It waits for me, laid out neatly on a chair besides the window. Drawing the curtains shut, I start by pulling on my underclothes, and then a pair of black, scratchy slacks and a white blouse with slightly puffed long sleeves. That being accomplished, I tugged on my brown leather boots, adjusting the top flap which went up to my knees, folding it under. My armor wasn't with me, as I didn't have a set of my own. I don't know whether or not it was an issue of trust on my part, but now that I was with the Royal Guard, the items were under the possession of Cade.

After I dressed, I walked over to the small vanity set on the opposite side of my room, closer to the door than the rest of the furniture. I sit down on the wooden chair, scooting it in. All that I have on the desk is a bucket of water, a towel, and a comb. I am not granted the luxury of makeup, as that, too, is a privilege I have lost. I look up at the rectangular mirror which sits lengthwise across the vanity set, sporting a crack about two inches from one corner to the next.

I meet my reflection, and if I hadn't got to used to seeing myself like this, wouldn't have recognized myself from a couple of years ago. My skin is tanned from countless hours in the sun, freckles spotting my cheeks and nose. I've got dark brown eyes that look nearly black, though a noticeably lighter shade when I'm outside. I've gotten much thinner, more fit, with a muscular build that wasn't normal for many 'little ladies' like myself. While it's nothing compared to the other soldiers, people would still stare.

But the thing that I notice the most is my look on my face. I can't tell, just by watching, what I'm feeling. I've got a deadpan expression, jaw set and eyes steely cold. I've changed so much, and I wonder if this is what Cade saw when he opened up my bedroom door to greet me. A blank face.

Shaking the thoughts away, I start on the tangled mess that is my brown curly hair, willing it into a braid.