Reyna trudged through the camp, keeping her head down in an attempt to ignore the looks she received from anyone she passed, knowing well she'd be in a mood to bury the knife in her hand deep into their skull. Instead, she kept walking until she reached the edge of the camp's wooded outskirts, finding the perfect tree to fall victim to her temper's release.
Over and over she threw the knife towards the trunk. Again and again she retrieved it and aimed once more.
She was so focused on her efforts that she didn't hear her father as he approached. She had just let the knife loose again when she heard him humming behind her, the sound surprising her enough her aim was off and the knife hit the trunk sideways and landed in the rough at its base.
Straightening, she listened. It was the same lullaby he used to sing to her during the early years of her life, and she found herself murmuring the lyrics under her breath.
"Thos wirlk if iers os nis aus os suums, Thu minssurs auru ruaul les nis on wier kruaums."
With a sigh, she walked towards the target tree and removed the knife from its base before turning around to face her father. He leaned against a nearby trunk, arms crossed over his chest, with an amused smile plastered across his face.
He was her father, but he still pissed her off.
Reyna avoided looking at him as she returned to her designated throwing point of origin. "That doesn't always work, you know."
Which was a lie.
And he knew it.
She threw the knife again.
"Reyna," the King began once he stopped humming the tune, attempting to regain her attention. She heard him take a tentative step closer, but instead of acknowledging his presence, she remained with her back to him as she moved once again to pick up her knife.
When she didn't answer, he took a deep breath as if preparing himself for what he was going to say next. "If this is what you really want, then I'll have Thessan start training you for it. Properly. Longer sessions and tougher exercises, but if you're up for it... I'll support you."
She stilled at his words, the weight of them falling upon her.
Was he truly offering her this? Finally giving her that which she wanted more than anything else? She furrowed her brows as her eyes began to burn. Reyna hated crying, especially in this camp, but with her father...
Slowly, she turned to face him, the emotion raw upon her face.
"Why?"
"Isn't that the same question I've been asking you since you wanted to come to this gods-forsaken camp?" Rikard countered.
But Reyna only shook her head. "If you're serious, you can't interfere. You can't make threats to the camp lords. You can't use your powers to intimidate- Hellus, I'd rather you not even be here that week."
Rikard frowned as she continued.
"I have to do this, to know that I can do this. On my own."
A small smile played at his lips as the King looked at her. She knew that look. It was the look he always gave her when he was reminiscing, thinking about the days she sat on his knee while he read stories, or when she was the youngling who was too afraid to learn to swim in the cool mountain rivers.
"Please," she breathed. "I need this."
He nodded slowly. "I know. So, I promise to keep my distance, to not make threats or interfere in anyway, if you promise to come back alive."
At that she gave him a smile as cocky and arrogant as any Northerner. "I wouldn't expect it any other way." But even so, she took a few steps closer, closing the distance between them to wrap her arms around her father tightly.
"Thank you, Dau," she whispered. A term of endearment only for him, only when no one was around.
She could tell by tension in his spine that the affection surprised him, but even so, Rikard wrapped his own arms around his daughter, returning the embrace. "Anything for my favorite youngling."
Reyna snorted at that. "For now." She allowed herself to smile as stepped away to retrieve her knife for one last time before returning to her father's side. "How long will you stay this time? Mim already looks incredibly uncomfortable."
Rikard kept pace with Reyna as she moved away from the tree line. "Your mother is newly pregnant with twins- do you expect her to look wholly at ease?"
She smirked and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. "She'd look that way regardless- she continues hates it here and we both know it."
Rikard couldn't help but chuckle. "She does rather despise these camps, doesn't she?"
"But she still comes," she nodded. "I think she knows how much they mean to you and the Northern people. Not everyone can be a healer from the East."
"Yes, even after all these years, she still hasn't refused to join me on a single one of these visits, but I still don't know if that's for my benefit, or yours."
Reyna watched her father as he spoke of her mother, and there it was- that happiness she saw in his eyes whenever Feith was mentioned about her mother, how the hardened warriors features softened.
The absolute, raw emotion of love.
She was only just beyond her one hundredth year, but despite the time she spent in the camps, and how hard she worked for herself, growing up in the presence of that unfaltering love left her envious. She wanted that, somehow, some way, and wanted someone to feel that way for her. But in her hundred years, not a soul had come anywhere close, and so she stopped looking.
It was a weakness.
"You have to remember, I was more than five hundred years old before your mother came into my life," he said simply, as if he could read her thoughts. Sometimes she wondered if that was a hidden part of his magic he kept only to himself- he had an uncanny way of reading not only her, but anyone who he held in discussion.
She felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment- emotions were meant to be a weakness in the North, and she hated being caught considering them. "You and Mother are soul-bound. You had no choice."
"That's not entirely true at all," he countered. "My parents hated each other. Before and after their souls entwined. I was fortunate your mother accepted me as I had her, regardless of our betrothal."
"I don't want to talk about this anymore."
"I'm merely saying that you're still young, Rey, and you never know when or where you'll find yours."
The consideration of love in the midst of training for something as serious as the Trial almost made her laugh. "I'm sure the Trial is well known for producing soul-bound partners after we're trying to kill one another for greatness."
Rikard frowned at that. "That's not what I meant."
She rolled her eyes. "And when are you breaking the news to Thessan?"
"After he's gotten over you handing his ass to him in the middle of the sparring ring." He shook his head but she saw the hint of a grin on his lips. "I'm sure there's a recruit or two that's in worse shape than the tree you got your hands on."
"Good." The recruits could take it. Thessan should have known better, the arrogant prick.
Reyna kept her eyes focused on the camp and cabins in front of them as they approached, the conversation with her father falling to silence as they walked over the snow-crusted mud. She could sense there was more he wanted to discuss, but she was in no mood. Between fighting with Thessan, arguing with her parents, and now her father allowing her to take the Trial all while attempting to discuss her love life, all she wanted to do was return to her small cabin, bathe, and sleep.
"What will you do, once you've passed the Trial?" Rikard asked, breaking the silence as they approached their temporary lodgings.
That he gave her the credit of coming out alive made Reyna feel a warm twinge in her chest.
"I suppose I hadn't considered that," she admitted. "I could remain and start training the new recruits. Or I could return home for a time-"
"You won't hear me complaining about that," Rikard conceded.
"But if I do," she said, stopping and turning to her father, "I'm not looking for you and Mother to play matchmaker. I want you to utilize me."
Rikard stopped just behind her, his brows furrowing. "Renya..."
"Rikard," she echoed her father's tone as she held his gaze.
"I don't want you to be an ambassador for your own kingdom," he said sternly. "The North still has many enemies, and the last thing I want to do is hand-feed you to anyone looking for a reason to use you as a bargaining piece."
"And yet you have no qualms about my visiting Niza-"
"The West is neutral territory. As is the East, despite our family ties. But the South-"
"Would be fool to try anything against the daughter of the King with the world's great army."
His gaze darkened. "An attitude like that will get you killed."
"You fought in the War that created these kingdoms," she reminded him, feeling her temper simmer. "And you did it for your father, with his Warriors!"
Rikard stiffened, his back straightening as if ready to do battle once again. "Yes, I did. I also almost died. And it was my father who saved me after being capture, only to have me beaten and left in the camps to freeze so I would learn my lesson. Is that the kind of fate you want?" His voice was quiet, edged with ice as he held Reyna's gaze.
She glared at him, but refused to allow the depth of his words affect her. She wouldn't let the emotion of the severity of what he endured alter her resolve. She knew well he fought and it didn't end well, but even so he was still allowed to be a part of something important. Something that helps build the world she knew.
Was that what she wanted, then? To be a part of something and be remembered for it?
Instead of answering her father, though, she just shook her head. "I'm going to bed," she announced as she turned towards the cabin, hearing her voice laced with more emotion than she wanted, but she was too tired to care.
She half-expected her father to challenge her, to continue the conversation and refuse to let her walk away, but he simply clenched his jaw and ground out a tight, "Sleep well," before he was striding from the cabin.
She glanced over her shoulder and watched him walk away, and wondered if he'd ever learn that sometimes there didn't always have to be a battle to wage, or a war to fight.