Valeria, 22 years

*************

I’m standing at my brother’s funeral. Again.

I can hear my father’s voice droning in the background as he recites the perfectly written speech.

I walk up to the casket, still open, with my brother’s lifeless body inside. I take a good look at him: his once tan skin turned completely white, his brown hair—usually messy—perfectly styled, and finally at his face, the one I’ll never see smile again. I stretch my hand out to touch his face, and everything darkens. I’m no longer at the funeral; I'm surrounded by pitch black. My heart races as I look from left to right, and the terror of what’s coming settles in. I can hear someone sobbing. I turn around, and there’s my mother, my brother’s bloodied body clenched tightly to hers as she lays on the ground. I start walking up to her, and that’s when she turns her head, her eyes still wet with tears glaring at me.

“I asked of you one thing… one thing,” she chokes out, sob after sob racking through her body. “You only had to protect your brother, and you failed!”

I freeze at her accusing glare, at the betrayal in her gaze. I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. I can feel my chest squeezing. I open my mouth to let the air in, but it’s useless. Everything around me is closing in as the image of my mum and brother fades away into nothing.

*************

I shot up from bed. It wasn't the first time I'd had this nightmare, and it probably wouldn't be the last. Judging by the darkness around me, it was still night. Not that it mattered—I wasn't going back to sleep anyway. I pulled myself up and began dressing; might as well check on the night guard.

Stepping out of the tent, the chilly night air hit my face so cold my nose might just fall off. As I walked, the soldiers nodded at me in respect as they passed. After all, they didn't have a choice. If they did, I wouldn’t be here in the first place. I felt their scornful gazes, the disgust trailing after me like a shadow. They wanted me out of here and away from them. I knew they didn’t think I belonged, that I was unworthy of my position, that the battlefield wasn't a place for a woman. But, being a duke's daughter does have its advantages.

I approached a group of soldiers gathered around a fire before sitting on a log near two of them. Perhaps they thought I didn’t notice them shifting away from me, the uncomfortable glances they exchanged or even how the conversation halted the moment I showed up.

“What were you discussing?” I asked in an attempt to break the ice.

Silence.

I scoffed, not surprised by the hostility. It wasn't the first time. Even after three years of fighting alongside them, I was still an outsider. I didn’t bother asking again because, based on past experiences, there were only two possible outcomes: more silence or a dismissive answer. I got up and left. I no longer held on to the naive belief that these men and I would become some sort of family.

Not to say I didn't do my part when I first arrived. Every comment I made outside of battle tactics was met with silence. Any attempt to bond over food or drink was rebuffed. Even my help or assistance was rejected. I had started to give up — until that godforsaken night.

*************

Valeria, 18 years old

*************

I can’t believe I'm saying this, but that night I was grateful for my insomnia. Who knows what would have happened if I had been asleep? I remember it like it was yesterday. It was one of the few moments I felt true panic.

It had been only a month since settling at our base when, one night, the sounds of chaos erupted around me. I grabbed my sword and rushed out of my tent. Outside, the camp was in disarray. Soldiers were running everywhere. Horses were on a rampage, and the acrid smell of burning tents filled the air. I barely had time to process what was happening before I was surrounded by enemies. Retreat wasn’t an option.

‘Hold your ground and push forward!’ I shouted over the noise of clashing swords.

My survival instincts took over. My thoughts vanished as my body moved on its own, blocking every blow. Despite my best efforts, I was still outnumbered. I could feel the adrenaline wearing off, every cut on my skin burning. The screams and the sound of bodies hitting the ground were overwhelming. I became distracted. All it took was a split second for me to miss the predatory gaze from behind. If not for Alan’s intervention, my head would have been rolling.

It took me a moment to recover as relief flooded over me. I regained my stance and pressed my back against Alan’s. Together, we fought our way through the enemy lines. For the first time, I felt a sense of unity in our ranks. I was being treated as a comrade. We were all protecting each other’s backs, knowing none of us could afford to be selfish—unless, of course, we had a death wish.

*************

I don't remember how long we fought but by the time we were done, the ground was scattered with bodies, and the stench of blood was everywhere. I started overseeing the injured, and to say I'd never seen so many in my life would be an understatement. Although I'd practised swordsmanship since I was nine, I had no true experience as a commander on the battlefield. How could someone be awarded such a sensitive position simply because of a title? The absurdity of nobility never ceased to amaze me.

I stood there, inhaling the burning smell of alcohol and vinegar. We had to separate the injured based on the gravity of each case. Some of us, like me, were lucky enough to get only a few cuts. Others lay on the ground with gaping holes through their bodies. Despite my body protesting every move, I could not rest—not with half of our men gone and most of the remaining ones on the verge of death.

Rolling up my sleeves, I called to the men who were still functioning. I instructed them to take care of those with mostly superficial injuries, so the medics could focus on those who needed the most help. Disinfecting wounds, tying bandages and washing cloths became our tasks for the rest of that day.

The groans went on and on as bloody bandages scattered across the floor. The blood sticking to my hands made my gut churn. As I worked my way through the men, I saw etched on their faces the question of whether they’d make it until morning. Their lives felt like a heavy weight on my shoulders, crushing me. When most were taken care of, I decided it was time for me to head back to my tent.

Before leaving, I felt a hand land heavily on my shoulder. I turned to find senior officer Alexander Clement looking at me with a smile.

‘You did well, kid,’ he said, his voice gruff but sincere. I felt something close to pride, but before I could reply, a younger recruit, Nicholas, followed with, ‘True, I didn't expect you to fight so well being a woman.’

‘You do realise that compliment was somewhat backhanded, don’t you?’ another recruit, Leonard, said.

Nicholas stammered, ‘Th-That wasn’t my intention, I swear.’ His face flushed bright red, and I chuckled at his flustered apology.

At that moment, Alan appeared. ‘You were very impressive out there,’ he said.

I couldn't help the small smile that appeared on my lips. It felt nice to have my skills recognised.

‘I thank you all, but each of you performed just as well as I did. I’m glad to be working alongside such skilled individuals.’

Although I could never be part of the big family, I'd managed to find myself a small one. After that day, I had people to eat with, train with and talk to, and I could never be more grateful for their presence by my side. Not to mention, the objections towards me quieted down a bit. They didn’t stop completely, but people now had the decency not to say it to my face.

*************

Anyways, it no longer mattered whether the others accepted me or not. The war raging in the southern regions of the empire had finally ended, and victory was ours. The chances of me meeting most of the people here after our return were unlikely. To sum it up, the bonds I’d formed had simply been a byproduct of my duty. I hadn’t come to make friends; I’d come to lead an army in my father’s stead.

We were set to move out in three days, each person heading back to where they belonged. A ceremony would be held in the capital to award the exemplary soldiers, the heroes—and I was one of them. Even though I wasn’t sure if I deserved to be labelled as one in the first place.