"Oh Iris, you don't have to look so sad, you know?"
An older man leaning on a cane spoke to his daughter, who was sitting with her head hung idly by a lit fireplace. At hearing the words, she raised her face to look at him. She managed to draw up a smile for him, but it was only half-convincing.
Iris Gwenneth stood from where she sat now and walked over to her father. When she got close enough, he used his free hand to touch her face gently above her eyebrow --as if he were trying to smooth the dent caused by her incessant worry.
"What's wrong, girl?" he asked.
She didn't answer, only widened her smile, as if that as supposed to make it better. They both realized at the same time that somehow her face had instead contorted into more of an awful grimace. Iris turned her face away, pulling the corners of her lips back in. "I'll tell you exactly what it is --it's nothing you need to worry about. You've got enough to worry about as it is." On cue, she looked down at his quivering knee --forever tarnished by war injury.
Her father seemed to follow her gaze. "You know, I've had a good life, Iris. I used to be tall and strong." The words were meant to comfort Iris. "In fact, I was quite the man before I had to start using this gods-forsaken cane." He now smiled at her --really smiled at her. It was one that caused his eyes to crinkle at the corners --just like they had for as long as Iris could remember. His hand slipped from her forehead, and he used his calloused thumb to carefully caress her cheek. Time seemed to stop in its tracks as he stared into Iris's dark eyes. Just like her mother's, he thought to himself.
"I'll bet," Iris answered, chuckling a little.
"I'll ask again, what's the matter? You know I hate seeing you like this."
Iris went quiet again, denying her father an answer once more. How could she tell him what was wrong? How could she tell him that his decreasing health topped her long list of worries without making him feel terribly? And aside from that, how could she remind him that she'd shamed her family by losing a betrothed? Ah, yes, and wasn't that just the thing. In light of all the hard times her family had been put through, she'd had to ice the cake by being a failure. She'd just had to lose Shadford --or Shad, her beloved, after two long years of being together.
And what was more? He'd left her for another girl --a petite girl named Emery, with a wide smile and coffee-colored hair. The people of Eda, her small village, had never forgotten it.
"Iris," he called.
"I'm serious. I'll live. I don't feel like talking about it. It'll only make it worse." She raised a brow at him.
In that moment, her father couldn't decipher her exact dilemma --but he indeed had a couple of good guesses. He knew her arguably well by now-- the past twenty years, to be exact. Her father had lived in the same house as her since they day she'd been born. He just narrowed his eyes in her direction.
"If this is about Shadford," he said, "You'll find better. You know that."
The mention of his name paled her face, but she still said nothing.
Now, Elliot Gwenneth's eyes swept across his daughter's features. A few tears pricked at his eyes. He indeed felt deep sorrow for what Shad had done to her, and he surely didn't understand why he'd done it. In his eyes, Iris had a wonderful personality, and she was as beautiful --if not more, than the flower she'd been named after. She was a spitting image of her mother, with sharp, but delicate features, lengthy dark hair, and fair skin with cheeks that flushed with color when she was happy --not that they did that often anymore.
He pulled her into a one-armed embrace.
"Cheer up," he whispered into her ear and then pulled away. Again, she gave him the same forced smile as before.
"I will," she promised quickly, without heart. "Come now, you need to sit down before your leg gives out."
He begrudgingly heeded her words and allowed her to help him into his old and faded red chair. Iris set his cane upright against the wall, in a place he could reach it when he decided to get up. He thanked her after a long moment, settling into the softness of the seat, and rubbed his sore knee out of habit.
"Where is my sister?" he asked after a minute, looking and listening for any sign of her.
"Renna left for the marketplace a while ago," Iris answered. "She should be back soon."
Her father nodded, and shut his eyes.
"I think I'm going to try for a nap. When she gets home, send her in here. I need to speak to her about..." he paused, cutting off his next words. And then, he collected himself. "About things." Elliot did not elaborate more on the subject.
Iris did not press her father, either. She already knew that once he'd set his mind to something --he wouldn't change it. Iris didn't doubt whatsoever that even if she'd asked for the rest of what he was going to say, he'd smile and tell her she was sticking her nose in the wrong place. Quietly, Iris kissed his forehead, letting him be for now.
In actuality, Aunt Renna should've returned already. She'd left quite a long time ago. Iris had kept that part to herself though --not wanting to give her father any more reason to worry. Stress would only wear him away more than the long years already had. Iris started to leave the room, but turned back one more time to look at her father when she was in the doorway. He seemed so at peace sprawled out in his chair.
For a second, Iris took in his fully stretched out form. He wasn't wrong when he'd told Iris he used to be tall. In fact, looking at him now, Iris determined that he had to have been at least six feet tall in his prime.
Now, Iris turned away for a final time, leaving the inside of the house entirely. The first step outside yielded the fragrance of what had once been Iris's mother's flowers. Their scent was so nostalgic, Iris almost smiled. It was like she was five years old again, helping her mother tend to and plant her multitude of gardens.
All was quiet outside, and Iris seemed to enjoy the lack of noise. Now with a destination in mind, Iris started off with purpose for the Gwenneth cherry orchard.
Though it was all the way across the family property, Iris got there in no time at all. Upon her arrival, Iris yanked up her lavender gown and took her place on the marbled bench she used to sit and talk with her mother on. The wind was blowing ever so lightly now, causing Iris shut her eyes and take in nature's full effect.
The birds were chirping up in the trees --the sound of their song reverberating through the air about her. She found herself playfully whistling along with them a minute later, trying to fit in to their joviality. A couple of the songbirds scattered from the tree at the sound of Iris. The rest seemed to have taken a liking to her cheerful whistles, singing more loudly now than before.
The cherry blossoms were in full bloom this time of year, littering the ground in a pink veil. Another wind shook the trees, and more petals fell --a few landing into her mass of midnight hair. Iris sighed but made no move to pick them out. After a few long moments, the songbird's lullabies had settled down once more. Indeed the girl noticed it, but she did not start whistling again. Instead, she cast her eyes down at her hands --fidgeting them as she did her best to clear her thoughts.
The day's events came flooding back to her nonetheless.
Iris had been walking in town earlier, thinking about her father and minding her own business when she'd been confronted by a girl her age named Lillian. Lillian Hartwood was almost a princess in Eda, their village. The gods were indeed cruel enough to see not only that Lillian was the rich mayor's daughter, but also the most beautiful woman here. She had pale blonde hair--which was indeed very rare in Eldia-- and ivory skin to match. And what's more was that Lillian had big blue eyes that could rival the oceans themselves.
Oh, Iris thought her a demon.
Ever since Shad had left her, Lillian had --for whatever god-forsaken reason-- targeted Iris. Iris guessed it was because she'd cared for Shad once --before he'd chosen Iris. And now that Shad had moved on past her too, it was especially bad. If Lillian saw Iris anywhere, she'd find at least some way to rub salt in the wound --some way to embarrass her, to taunt her.
And usually? Iris would ignore it. But today? Today was the two-year anniversary of the day Shad had broken their engagement, and Iris was already more than irritated. So naturally, because she was already emotional, Iris had turned right around to Lillian and told her to mind her own business. Ah, she might've called her a nasty-mouthed bitch, too --but no one needed to know that part. That language surely did not suit a lady, but gods, she had been so livid.
Lillian had slapped her for that.
Iris touched her cheek at the memory and laughed to herself, almost derisively. Lillian's dainty hands hadn't even left a mark.
"Iris!" Her aunt's voice broke her train of thought. "What are you doing out here all alone? Is your father alright?"
Iris's eyes snapped up to find her frazzled aunt, who was carrying several bags in each of her arms --all of which looked like they were filled to the brim with things she'd, no doubt, purchased in the market. The girl stood from her seat and ran right over to help.
"Here, let me help you with some of those," Iris offered, and Renna let her niece take some of the grocery load off her. With less weight in her arms, Renna looked mildly relieved, relaxing her stance a bit.
"And to answer your questions," Iris continued talking after settling the bags comfortably in her arms. "I came out here to think. Dad was resting, and I didn't want to stay in the house and bother him. He told me to wake him up when you got here, though, so I'm heading in with you."
Renna nodded and chuckled, but that was all Iris got for a response. Instead, her aunt relocated the sacks in her arms one more time for good measure.
"Let us go inside, shall we?" Iris asked.
Her aunt nodded, and they began to walk toward the cottage together. As they walked, Renna had ranted for what had to be the thousandth time over the years about how much she hated shopping. Iris just chuckled at her aunt's agitation and opened the door to the cottage, allowing Renna to enter before her.
"Aunt Renna's here!" Iris called once she was inside.
Elliot rounded the corner not a moment later --a half smile present on his face.
"I'm already awake, girl." He chuckled. "Believe me when I say that I heard your aunt ranting all the way from my chair."
Renna gave Iris a slightly guilty smile before focusing her gaze back at her brother. Wordlessly, she set all her bags carefully down on the floor and went to hug Elliot, who accepted her embrace with one of his own.
"How was your trip?" he asked into her hair. They pulled apart a second later.
"I went to buy groceries for the rest of the week," she said, as if that summed it up. Now, she lifted the bags back from the floor and turned to put them away. "Now, I'm going to go cook dinner --yell if you need me."
"Before you do that, I need to talk to you about something," Elliot told her.
She shushed the words with a gesture and a bit of a sly smile. "It can wait until after dinner. If I wait too much longer to eat, I surely might die. You can tell me when the food's cooling, alright?"
He shook his head at her words and chuckled lightly to himself at the response. Otherwise, he said nothing else before leaving them both in the kitchen.
Renna now looked Iris's direction, who was standing there dumbly --not knowing what to think of the exchange. "Would you help me cook, dear?" she asked Iris, breaking the tension of the moment.
Iris stepped up, as if she were reporting for duty.
Renna smiled at the motion. "Thank you."
----
During dinner, things were completely quiet --completely, eerily quiet. Usually, conversation would have been going at the Gwenneth table. There was usually laughter and general, good-natured chatter. But tonight, everyone just ate in complete silence. Iris just sat awkwardly, wondering what her father and her aunt had just spoken about. Neither of them would even look at her. Perhaps they'd heard she'd called Lillian a bitch. Was that it?
After several minutes, she finally caught her aunt's gaze. In it, Iris found some indiscernible emotion. Iris could tell, though, that Renna was either worried, upset, or angry --or perhaps she was the frightening combination of all three. All Iris could do was stare back in confusion.
Her father loudly cleared his throat, breaking the tension as everyone's attention fell on him.
"Iris, my darling, there's something I need to tell you. And you're not going to like it, either."
She narrowed her eyes. "Yes?"
"I... I'm going back to war."