She swung the wooden practice sword at the mannequin. Aim for the heart, aim for the neck, sideswipe the stomach. Make it hurt. The anger welled in her stomach, and flowed through her muscles. She swung harder, chipping away at the smooth wood blade. The years of pent up frustration were finally coming to a head, and with a final scream, Athalia threw the sword onto the floor and watched it shatter. “Well,” said a voice, echoing footsteps accompanying it, “that’s not exactly what I meant by practice.” Coming to a standstill and crossing his arms, the voice threw a smug glance at the splinters covering the floor. “Ophelius, I’m not dealing with this today. You know it’s unfair and you still don’t do anything about it. I’m one of the best fighters this castle has, and I can’t even visit the lake past the town square.” Stepping closer, Ophelius reached for her hand. “You know I can’t change this. It’s for your safety.” She scoffed at the phrase that made her blood boil. As if she couldn’t keep herself safe.  “Easy for you to say, Captain of the Guard. You have no idea what it’s like to be kept helpless when you know you can hold your own,” she pointed a finger into the center of his chest.  Athalia exhaled, “You can change this. Please, O, you haven’t been training me for nothing.” Sucking in a breath, she glanced at his eyes, only to be met with a stone cold expression. “No,” he said, “I’m not putting you in danger.” With that, Athalia side stepped Ophelius and retreated to her room.

*****

“I mean, it’s just not fair. Why does he even train me if I’m stuck on the stupid grounds, every minute of every day,” Athalia complained to Anna, her personal maid, as she had her hair braided. “Well, Princess, you are just that. A Princess.” She stopped her handiwork and peered over Athalia’s shoulder into their reflections, warmly lit by the setting sun, “You know what is expected of you.” With a final piece of hair tucked into place, Anna left Athalia on her own. 

*****

She sighed, the familiar feeling of isolation creeping up her back. For all that she had, for the kingdom that would be hers in a few short years, Athalia hated the idea of it all. She did not want to become Queen. Athalia was born a fighter: she was in constant motion as a little girl. At age 11, she was running around with the boys of the castle, training right alongside them. She felt at home fighting off invisible demons and dragons, but it could only last so long. She grew out of the age where she could be barefoot and muddy; it was time she started acting like a princess.  She felt like an imposter in the pastel dresses, glittering tiaras creating a facade to hide how she truly felt. Athalia begged her parents to let her fight with her childhood friends instead of being a princess, until, finally, they gave in. “You can train with Ophelius in secret. It is not very Princess-like to be wielding swords and armor,” her father said. And so, she did just that. She trained for years under the cover of night, hiding her toned frame and calloused hands. Athalia balanced tea parties with Ophelius’ secret training sessions. She ran in the morning mist, trailing behind the boys she once used to play with. She trained with swords until only her father and Ophelius could beat her. 

The one condition to her training was that she never leave the castle grounds. For 19 years, Athalia has been confined to the same grounds she walks every day, only ever knowing the same landscape. She watched as the boys she grew up with left the castle, she watched as Anna visited her family by the coast, she watched as her father went off to fight in far away battles. Through it all, Athalia sat by her bedroom window, wishing for something more.

*****

The unfairness of it all was ripping her apart. Athalia paced around her room, breaths coming faster and faster. She’d never felt more trapped than she did in this moment. The walls were closing in on her, and she had nowhere to go. She had to run. She had to escape her mind, if only temporarily. She knew that the guards posted outside her door wouldn’t leave until well past midnight, when they assumed she was sleeping soundly. This thought only made her more frantic. “Relax,” Athalia whispered to herself. “Think. How else can I get out of here?” Her reddening eyes scanned her room, resting on the window towering above a courtyard. She knew what she had to do. She grabbed the dirtiest bag she could find and started throwing in old training clothes and beaten up boots. She draped a brown, woolen cloak over her shoulders, pulling the hood up high enough to cover her face. After grabbing whatever fruit and bread was on her side table, she looped her arms through the bag, securing it across her chest. She pulled the ribbons from her hair, looking as un-princess-like as possible. Flouncy nightgowns and perfect braids didn’t belong walking through town in the middle of the night. Anger began to flow through her veins. How could her parents keep her trapped in this castle knowing how it made her feel? How was it fair that everyone else could leave, but she was stuck watching from afar? Why did she train every day if she would never have the chance to defend anyone? Athalia pulled two hidden daggers from beneath her mattress, tucking them into her waistband. With a deep breath, she stepped towards the window, sliding open the wooden shutters. Cautiously, a leg was swung over the sill. Another leg swings over, and Athalia is sitting in the open. A cool breeze calms the red flush on her cheeks, already helping to steady her shaky breaths. She flipped herself over and clawed at the stone wall for a grip as she shimmied herself down the wall. Just like that, she was out. Torches were lit, lining the alleyway to beyond the castle gates. The waxing moon illuminated the night sky, clouds few and far between. Athalia hunched herself over, disguising her gait as best she could. As she approached a fork in the alley, she heard a rumbling laugh from the left, belonging to a voice she knew too well. “Ophelius,” she muttered under her breath, “If there’s ever a time to not notice someone, the time is now.” She veered herself to the right. Her steps came faster, her breathing got heavier, and her mind become more clear. Tears pricked in her eyes as the castle gates came closer and closer into view. The air become more fresh, the light become more sparse, and the stone path began to wear down. Athalia slowed from her run, and with one final step, at long last, she was off of the castle grounds.

*****

With every step she took, a weight was taken off of her shoulders. Breathing was easier, knowing that she was free. She took staggered steps on the frosted grass path, no care for the pitch black forest she was entering. The smell of evergreen trees was all new to her, and Athalia laughed at where she was. Further into the trees she ventured, taking in everything; the sound of the owls, the gentle lull of leaves in the wind, the faint gurgle of a nearby stream. A laugh escaped her lips as she looked to the sky, emotion flushing her eyes and cheeks. The soil under foot began to moisten, soaking through her combat boots. She took a step in a puddle, looking down, only to realize she stepped into the shore of a lake. At this, Athalia broke down. Tears were flowing down her face, she sunk to her knees, no care for the ruined cloak she dropped from her shoulders. Athalia peered at her reflection in the lake, lulling ripples distorting her features. No longer was she a trapped Princess, confined by the wants of her family and people. At the lake, Athalia was herself. She was unchained, unbound, her potential to simply be was unlocked. She couldn’t go back. Looking at the world around her, at all she missed for the first 19 years of her life, she realized that she pushed her own life to the side. She buried herself under what her parents wanted from her, on what her people wanted from her. At that moment, Athalia knew she would not give herself up for a dream that wasn’t hers ever again. The second she stepped into the lake, her royalty was washed away. She wasn’t a Princess anymore. She was just “Athalia”.