DISAPPOINTMENT AND DESPISE
967 Words
CHAPTER TWO
DISAPPOINTMENT AND DESPISE
The bells had not stopped ringing,
they echoed through the streets of the palace.
Loud, insistent, celebratory by tradition.
People stepped out of their homes, eager to know the gender of the child given birth to .
They lifted their heads, and asked the same question in hushed voices.
“A prince?”
Whispers traveled faster than the bells.
“No… a girl.”
The disappointment spread like fire
In the marketplace,
women paused mid-bargain;scared of how the child's life would turn out, men scoffed openly, old nobles shook their heads as if a personal offense had been committed against the kingdom itself.
“Another useless daughter,” someone muttered.
“She’ll be married off before she learns to walk.”
“Poor king, all that power and no son to inherit it.”
Inside the palace, Lord Messah stood unmoving at the edge of the birthing chamber.
He had not gone in, he refused to.
His hands were clasped tightly behind his back, his jaw clenched so hard it ached.
Every cry that had come from the room earlier his wife’s pain, the midwives’ calls had only sharpened his impatience. A girl The word burned.
He had waited years for a son. A boy who would carry his name, command his armies, extend his legacy. Instead, the gods had mocked him.
The door creaked open.
The queen’s personal servant came out, her face pale. “My lord,” she said softly, “the queen wishes to see you.”
Messah’s eyes were cold. “Why?”
“She is… frightened.”
He laughed, short and humorless.
“She should have thought of that before failing her duty.”
He turned and strode away, leaving the woman frozen where
she stood.
Inside the chamber, the queen lay still, staring down at the tiny life resting against her chest, her daughter.
Her skin was flushed, her small mouth opening and closing as she breathes.
She smelled of milk and warmth, of something fragile and new. The queen’s hands shook as she traced a finger along the baby’s cheek.
Her heart pounded not from childbirth, but from fear.
What will he do? She asked rhetorically
She had seen her Lord Messah’s react when disappointed before, heard it in his voice when servants failed and now feels it in his silence when she could not give him the son he wanted.
This time, the disappointment had a face and it was her daughter.
“She is strong,” one midwife said gently, trying to sound hopeful.
“Healthy, the queen forced a smile. “Yes… she is.”
But hope was dangerous in this
palace.
At the royal record chamber, the scribes waited with ink-stained hands and tense expressions.
Scrolls lay open before them, blank spaces reserved for royal decrees.
A young scribe cleared his throat. “Shall we prepare the announcement of the heir?”
An older scribe shook his head slowly. “There is no heir.”
Another sighed. “Then… the name?”
Silence fell, no one named a child the king had not acknowledged.
One of them finally gathered the courage to approach the throne room.
“My lord,” the head scribe said carefully, bowing low. “We await your instruction. What shall be recorded?”
Lord Messah did not look at him, “Wait,” he said flatly.
“For how long, my lord?”
Messah’s eyes flicked toward him giving a sharp warning.
“Until I decide what she is worth.” he said with a cold voice.
The scribes bowed again and retreated, unease heavy in
their steps.
The birds were humming their sweet songs, and the cool breeze, made the atmosphere a good one .
At last, the door to the birthing chamber opened violently, Lord Messah entered.
The queen’s breath caught. Her body tensed, instinctively curling around her child.
Every part of her wanted to shield her little band from his gaze.
Messah stopped at the foot of the bed.
“So,” he said, voice low and hard. “This is what you gave me.”
The queen swallowed. “She is your daughter.”
“She is a failure,” he snapped. “You were meant to give me a son.”
Pain flashed across her face, but she lifted her chin. “She is alive. She is innocent.”
Messah stepped closer, looming over the bed. He looked down at the baby with clear disgust.
“Innocence does not rule kingdoms.”
The baby stirred, letting out a small, weak cry.
For a moment, just a moment the queen feared he might turn away again.
Instead, Messah spoke.“Name her.”
The queen blinked. “My lord?”
“I said name her. Quickly, I have no patience for this.”
Her hands trembled. “I wished to choose together….”
“No,” he cut in. “I will name her.”
He looked at the child one final time, his eyes devoid of warmth.
“Aina,” he said abruptly. “Call her Aina.”
The name fell heavy in the room.
The queen whispered it, testing it on her tongue. “Aina…”
Messah turned away immediately, already finished.
“See that she learns her place early,” he said as he left. “I will not tolerate another disappointment.”
The door slammed shut.
The queen finally allowed herself to cry, she held her daughter close, tears soaking into the silk around her small body.
“I will protect you,” she whispered fiercely. “Even if I must stand alone.”
Princess Aina slept on, unaware that her name had been given without love
and that her life had begun not with celebration, but with despise.
- Writer
