The Warmth of Fatherly Protection
"N-no, it's not like that!"
Elysia's cheeks flushed a feverish red beneath her dazzling golden eyes. Her golden gaze obsessively followed Barg von Wintersword's bulging back muscles and the scarred profile glistening with sweat, lost in a hazy daze.
At first, Kairun von Northgard thought Elysia was looking at Barg with the same admiration he felt—the gaze of someone in awe of a true powerhouse. But...
'Uh...?'
Her flushed face and ragged breathing... that wasn't the reaction of someone merely appreciating fine swordsmanship.
Kairun cleared his throat awkwardly and spoke up first, cautiously. "I-it's amazing, right? Barg's..."
"Eek!"
Elysia jolted in surprise, hunching her shoulders. Realizing Kairun had noticed her staring, she hurriedly dropped her gaze to the floor, stammering. "Y-yes?! Oh, uh, y-yeah... He's so... cool. My heart's pounding..."
She bowed her head deeper, her face growing even redder. Like a girl caught with a secret she shouldn't have, the princess's fingers fidgeted with the hem of her clothes.
A warning light flashed in Kairun's mind. 'No way... Her Highness the princess...'
He glanced incredulously between Elysia and Kara von Wintersword, who stood at the edge of the training ground. 'Harboring rational feelings for a married man like Barg... with Kara right there, alive and kicking with eyes wide open?!'
Even if she was a princess, this wouldn't do. If faction drama erupted, his score as the North's representative would tank...
Desperate, Kairun skipped formalities and asked in a careful but firm voice. "Your Highness. Could it be... that the feelings you hold for Sir Barg are... as a woman toward a man...?"
"What?! N-no! Absolutely not! Don't say such shocking things!"
Before Kairun could finish, Elysia freaked out, waving her hands wildly. Her cheeks had gone beyond red to pale with horror.
"Sir Barg has our Kara right by his side! And Yeppe too—how could I dare harbor such irreverent thoughts! I just... I mean...!"
She flailed her hands, then took a deep breath and murmured in a subdued voice. "It's just... this overwhelming feeling is something I've never experienced since I was born..."
"Never... you mean?"
When Kairun asked, puzzled, Elysia clasped her hands tightly in her lap and began carefully confessing her true feelings.
"When I look up at Sir Barg like this, sitting here... my heart feels strangely at ease. Like I'm hiding inside the safest fortress in the world..."
Elysia's gaze drifted into space. The princess replayed an indelible, intense memory in her mind.
The time she and Alina had been kidnapped. In her desperation to escape, Elysia had unleashed her immature conflagration magic. The cabin was instantly engulfed in raging flames. Scorching heat burned her skin, melting her hair bit by bit. Acrid smoke stung her nose, dazing her mind. The uncontrolled power had even temporarily blinded innocent Alina.
Terror that she might burn to death with Alina crushed the princess's body. That's when—
Boom—!
A massive man burst through the door, shattering it and piercing the flames. He didn't care if his flesh burned. Without hesitation, he threw himself into the inferno, scooped up the blinded, huddled Alina and Elysia into his arms, and flashed the world's sturdiest smile amid his scarred, fierce face.
Looking up at Barg's soot-covered back then, she'd felt a warm relief. 'Ah, I'm alive. This man came to save us.'
For the illegitimate princess, abandoned in the cold annex of the palace her whole life, facing assassination threats without protection—that was the first absolute safeguard she'd ever known.
"A while back... when I was kidnapped, Sir Barg saved me from the flames," Elysia whispered, her voice trembling. "The feeling I had looking up at him then... it's surging back now, sitting here watching him. It makes me feel so safe, so warm inside..."
She confessed to Kairun that she'd lost herself, blushing unwittingly.
"I've never felt anything like this in my life... I don't know how to even define it."
Kairun's eyes wavered faintly at her pure, poignant confession. He knew exactly what that indefinable emotion was.
"...Me too."
Kairun opened his mouth in a low, subdued voice. "On the borderlands... Barg threw his body to block a carriage and saved me once."
"Ah..."
Elysia's eyes widened round. Kairun smiled at her for the first time—genuine, without pretense.
"Not sure if it helps, Your Highness." Kairun fiddled with his interlocked hands, carefully unearthing a deeply buried past. "When I was young, I felt something very similar to what you described. It was a long time ago. The day my brother... Karl von Northgard first injured his legs."
"The young lord... the day he was hurt...?"
"Yes. For some reason... the horse pulling our carriage panicked and charged toward a cliff..."
Neighhh!
"Everyone, stop it! Kill the horse if you have to!"
"I froze in terror, unable to do anything. That's when..."
"Kairun!"
Kairun's voice trembled slightly. Boom—! The sound of Barg's fifth wooden sword snapping echoed.
"My brother blocked the carriage with his body..."
"Brother... blood on your waist... blood...!"
"Covered in blood, he held me close and whispered it was okay, that he'd protect me. As his blood dripped onto my face..."
"Thank goodness... really, thank goodness... Kairun... you're safe..."
"The feeling I had in his arms... it was definitely..."
Kairun looked up at Barg in the center of the training ground, sweat streaming as he took his sixth wooden sword.
"What I felt then... was paternal love."
"...Paternal... love?"
"Yes. A father's selfless devotion to his child... that blind, warm shield. When Barg saved me from that near-fatal carriage... I thought of my brother..."
That's why he admired Barg. He'd reignited the admiration he'd first felt for Karl, whom he wanted to emulate.
"So I think I understand a little what that overwhelming relief and comfort you're feeling is."
At Kairun's sincere advice, Elysia stared blankly, as if struck on the head with a hammer.
Paternal love. A father's love. The word sharply probed the knotted depths of her heart.
"Ah..."
A bitterly self-mocking smile spread across Elysia's lips.
"That's why... I didn't recognize it."
Tears welled in Elysia's eyes.
"I've never... received anything like that."
Born illegitimate, her birth mother withered early; she'd wandered the palace's cold floors. Her biological father, the emperor, ignored her utterly, ashamed of her existence. To Elysia, "father" meant only fear and dread.
Selfless paternal protection? That warm concept had no place in her life.
So she'd mistaken the primal safeguard Barg gave her in the flames—not for love or admiration, but some strange new heartbeat.
Elysia wiped her teary eyes with her sleeve and turned to Kairun.
"Young Lord."
She looked him straight in the eye. "From now on... remember me just as Elysia Spencer..."
She wanted to be remembered by her true name, her commoner mother's surname. As the recipient of her first love.
Kairun met her resolute gaze, sensing the depth of her wounds, and simply nodded with a gentle smile.
"Understood, Lady Elysia. Then, drop the stiff 'young lord' for me too—call me Kairun. We're faction allies... and comrades who both owe our lives to Barg."
"Yes! Kairun!"
A genuine laugh passed between them for the first time. Wounded souls understood each other's pain.
Crack!
"Argh!"
"Already the seventh! Excellent! You lasted seven exchanges!"
As Barg snapped the seventh wooden sword, the princess and young lord forged a deeper bond. A beautiful, heartwarming air enveloped the stands.
But...
That novel-like romantic swell lasted exactly 30 seconds.
"So anyway, Kairun!"
Elysia sniffed once and, in a second, reverted to her high-pitched, bubbly self, bouncing excitedly. "From experience, Sir Barg is seriously good at everything! Not just strong—he baked super pretty and delicious tarts in Izen last time, you know?"
"......Pardon? Barg... baked tarts?"
"Yep! And every night, he grinds strawberry juice in the kitchen for Kara? I snuck in last time and snagged a glass—it was honey-sweet! Him in an apron, plucking strawberry stems? So cute!"
"......"
'Sigh...'
Kairun's soul seemed to slip out again. The serious mood vanished, replaced by the princess's endless TMI barrage. He felt his energy draining in real time.
'But... baking tarts and grinding strawberry juice? That brute in an apron?'
Rubbing his throbbing temple, Kairun wasn't as annoyed as before—the topic was Barg's private life, after all. Secretly intrigued, he perked up his ears.
The two were unwittingly turning into Barg fanboys.
* * *
Meanwhile, in stark contrast to the peaceful yet noisy stands, the training ground center was a scene of devastation.
"Raaargh!"
Crunch! Crack!
Eight wooden swords lay shattered and split on the training ground floor like mangled corpses.
"Hah... hah..."
I gripped the ninth sword tight, breathing raggedly. Sweat poured like rain. I wanted to spew blood instead of sweat, just once.
Mental stress wasn't enough to vaporize my blood. Full power shatters the wooden sword. Dodging only gets me stabbed by Sword's blade.
That pissed me off most. The bastard kept provoking me, forcing control over my surging strength.
Only one option left: Align my sword with his trajectory, then at contact, release power, twist my wrist, and slyly deflect the strike.
Easier said than done. Muscles honed to crush with raw power my whole life resisted the new motion.
'If I could do that, Kara would've taught me ages ago!'
Of course, genius Kara sucked at explanations.
Clang! Kiiing—!
Sword's blade rushed at my neck. I glared, tilting my wooden sword slightly to let his slide off the flat.
Screee—!
Good—it didn't break. Using the rebound, I lightly thrust at his shoulder.
"Nice! Brilliant, you beast! That was perfect!"
Sword batted it away casually, shouting in glee. "Exactly eight exchanges now! Two left! Hold that beastly power in check just a bit longer, barbarian chick!"
The professor laughed maniacally in teaching bliss. But I was on the verge of madness, forcibly tensing every muscle to avoid snapping the sword.
'Fuck, seriously. I wanna smash these damn sticks, then punch that smug prof in the face!'
Swallowing curses, I clenched the intact ninth sword and gritted my teeth.
'Alright... think positive...'
Playing with Yeppe needs delicate control.
'Our kid'll be strong like me and Kara... but newborns are still babies...!'
Fueled solely by resolve to be a good dad, I awaited the next clash.
And—
Boom—! Crack! Splinter—!
"Son of a—! Damn it!"
That dogshit. Broke on the ninth.
"Hey! Wooden sword! Fresh one, now!"
"Eek! Y-yes, Professor! Here's the ninth wooden sword!"
Instructors dashed frantically between armory and center, sweating bullets.
'At this rate, we'll actually hit ten...'