Lord Lucos and his Daughter

Written by Susie
He had always seemed so big to her.

Myria had always seen her father as a towering presence in her life, someone who she couldn’t fully comprehend. A multi-faceted man, complicated and difficult. A man she would never truly know.

It was easy for her to pretend that he had always been cold and distant with her, that he had not loved her as much as her siblings. But that would be a lie. She remembered the times when she was small, when both of them forgot their pain. She remembered how his large hands engulfed hers, how she laughed when those strong arms lifted her onto his shoulders. She remembered how small the world seemed to her up there.

But then she grew older, and she remembered how her father had no time for their games, no time to lift her up and show her the world. She remembered how he turned from her when she asked about her mother.

And just how suddenly that distance grew. She remembered how she busied herself around Fox Hollow, how curt she would be with her conversations with him, how she would always find an excuse to be with someone else. And she wondered just what had happened between them, how could he be so far away?

She remembered seeing him astride his warhorse, clad in armour, standards blowing in the wind as they left for battle. He was a giant then. Imposing and grand, a warrior, a titan. Her brothers followed behind, impressive in their own right, but she could only see them in his shadow. She prayed that they would all return home safely. They would not.

One day, after their return, Myria had snuck down to the infirmary. She knew that she wasn’t allowed there, but she had to see them, she had to know that they would live. She had steeled herself, tried her best to prepare herself for what she might see, but she was not ready.

She saw her father, face twisted in agony, body beaten black and blue, crying out in pain as his dressings were changed. How he tried with all his might to hold in the scream as his shattered leg was moved. How he clawed at the sheets around him, desperately clinging to something.

He didn’t seem so big then.

So she ran. She ran, and she hid, and she cried. She cried for the father she knew, the father she didn’t, and she cried for the man who had lost everything. And later, much later, after she had cried all that she could, she snuck back to that room. She took that large hand in her small hands, and she pressed a kiss to his cheek and promised him that someday she would make him proud.