Her Mother's Wrath

"Did he survive?" Irene asked with glossy green eyes full of unshed tears. 

She was unwilling to allow them to fall out. A knight wouldn't cry over a mere encounter with a goblin. However, it didn't take away the worry she had that the man with a stump for a leg didn't survive. She had tried her very best to ensure he made it out of there safely.

"He survived, dear," her grandmother said as she put salve on the bleeding parts of Irene's scalp. "Not without your help, of course."

Her grandmother was about to lift her shirt and see the damage to her ribs, but she wouldn't stop talking.

"Then what about father—?"

Her question was answered quickly. 

Before her grandmother could finish seeing the damage to Irene's body, she jumped up from the bench and rushed forward to her father. He smelled of the forest but his appearance was pristine. 

"Facing a goblin is nothing for you!" she shouted in amazement and clung to the man she got her bright red hair from. 

Sir Arthur grinned down at his daughter and he ruffled her hair with his large hand. 

"One day it will be nothing for you as well," Arthur promised. "I already saw what you did to the ones you faced in the forest."

She had already changed her path even if it was just a small amount. That day, her father was happy. The last life she lived, he wasn't.

"You saw?" she asked with a gasp.

The interruptions that day were endless. 

Before her father could answer, in came another from the opposite direction. The door leading to the heart of their home opened and slammed against the wall. 

"A goblin, Arthur Litharion!?" Rochelle shouted, using his full name as if she was his mother. She said the last name as if it wasn't the one she inherited upon marriage—as if it was a curse she wouldn't wish upon anyone. "You let our daughter face a goblin?"

That was quick, Arthur thought with a mental sigh. 

His posture changed instantaneously as he slouched and made himself pathetic. He was groveling to his wife who he already knew would be upset with the situation, but it was a necessary step for their daughter who would one day get into more trouble if she didn't know how to take care of herself in the forests. 

He was from a long line of Sünsto warriors. The children he raised wouldn't be soft considering the blood that ran through his veins. They were primed for the rush of battle. Irene's love of swords and interest in fighting wasn't a coincidence. 

"This is a necessary stepping stone in her journey of learning to fight, Ro," Arthur persisted, though his voice was far more gentle than it was before. "I went through this, as did all my siblings. My mother went through it as well."

Despite her support of Irene, Kara knew when to keep her mouth shut. No one liked a meddling mother-in-law. 

Rochelle pushed past her husband and was followed closely at her heel by Irene's younger brother, Arne. He was the spitting image of his father even more than Irene. While Irene's eyes were green like her mother's, his were brown like his father's. However, he was still timid sometimes and glued to his mother.

He was slowly branching away. Irene was determined to do the same.

Arthur was somewhat offended by his wife brushing him off entirely but he understood.

The worried mother placed her hands on either side of Irene's face as she bent down to observe her daughter. 

"I saw a man being taken to the healers when I was out at tea," she explained in a breathless tone. "When I asked where he had come from, they told me there were goblins in the forest but a little girl with red hair saved him." 

She continued her worrying, going over her daughter from foot to head until she found evidence that the girl had been hurt. 

"There!" the woman cried. "How dare you, Arthur!? She's going to have scars the rest of her life because of your carelessness."

"God forbid one of the noblemen don't find her beautiful if she's a bit rough around the edges," Arthur responded. "Even if we were to lock her in her room and keep her from all the things she liked, she would find ways to entertain herself—to escape the prison we create for her. She's someone who was meant to fight and be wild."

Irene flinched. She had never heard her father be so defiant towards her mother. What he was saying was only the truth.

Rochelle tried to hold in her anger with a clenched jaw and a sigh through her nose. She cast a glare at Arthur and took the salve from Kara so she could finish the job. 

The stinging salve was placed on Irene's wounds and all she could do was sit there and absorb the conversation unfolding. It wasn't the first time and it certainly wouldn't be the last that she heard the back and forth over what she was or wasn't supposed to do. 

However, the major difference was that it used to be her mother winning those arguments. That day was landmark in Irene showing that she wanted to follow her father even if it seemed inconceivable. 

What she wanted to do always seemed to diverge from what her mother wanted her to do. When she gave in last time, her father distanced himself. 

Did that mean she would lose her mother this time around, even if she was simply doing what she was called to?

After her mother was satisfied with the state of Irene's small wounds, she grabbed Irene by her hand and dragged her out of the room. 

Before she could fully leave, her father had a twinkle in his eye and he smiled faintly at his daughter. 

"You'll be a great knight," he uttered before Irene could get out of earshot.

He was proud of her. She hadn't felt that since before she was married off and hadn't turned her back to sword fighting.

His words carried Irene all the way to the kitchen where her mother forced her into an apron. There Rochelle, Irene, and a couple of maids cleaned vegetables for the dinner they were preparing that evening. 

Before their meal could be roasted, Irene couldn't help the faint smile on her face as she saw the carcass of a rabbit being tied to a spit and put over the fire between two birds. She was certain it was the one she caught. 

Her mother was so upset over what she had done and yet it was going to be part of their evening meal. 

"I caught that rabbit," she uttered.

"What is it, young miss?" one of the maids asked as she cubed up carrots and put them into a pot for the stew that would accompany the other dishes. 

"Ah, nothing," Irene quickly corrected herself. 

It was small compared to her bigger plans for herself. She better not make a molehill into a mountain, especially considering she faced a goblin that day and it was one of the smallest monsters that dwelled in the forests. 

However, not even the monsters were the most dangerous things in the forest her father would prove that much soon enough.