The Morning After
The weight of his new title—Big Brother—clung to Rune like a suit of armor. He woke with a fiery resolve, his small mind already drafting plans to become the ultimate protector. There was only one way to start: he needed a sword.
He found his father in the courtyard and made his demand with all the gravity a five-year-old could muster. Froyd, a man born of a long lineage of warriors, felt a swell of immense pride. He looked down at Rune's serious face and ruffled his hair with a booming laugh.
"A warrior's heart! I like it," Froyd said. "But you'll have to clear it with your mother first so she can make the 'necessary preparations.' Besides, isn't your tutor waiting for you?"
Rune didn't hesitate. He spun around and shouted toward the manor windows, "MOM! Can I train with Dad today? Please!"
Ravina appeared on the balcony, her expression unreadable. "Go to your studies for now, Rune. Your father and I need to... discuss the proper way to introduce you to the arts of the blade and body control."
"Can't I just watch?" Rune pleaded, his eyes wide and hopeful.
Froyd was so moved by his son's enthusiasm that he opened his mouth to intervene, ready to tell Ravina to let the boy have his fun. But before a single word could escape, he felt it—The Glare.
Ravina's eyes locked onto him with a lethal intensity that promised a very short lifespan for anyone who disagreed with her. Froyd's bravado evaporated instantly. With a weak, awkward smile, he patted Rune's head.
"Er... follow your mother's arrangements for now, son."
"Ohhh," Rune groaned, his shoulders sagging. He trudged toward the study, his feet heavy with the burden of literature and grammar.
The Training Grounds: Afternoon
Despite his morning disappointment, Rune couldn't stay away. As soon as his lessons ended, he snuck toward the training grounds where Froyd was drilling the household guards.
"Rune? What are you doing here?" Froyd whispered, his eyes darting around the perimeter like a man expecting an ambush.
"Don't tell Mom, okay?" Rune whispered back, crouching behind a weapon rack. "I just want to see how it's done."
Froyd looked at his son, his heart melting with pride. This was the Assaroth blood speaking—the hunger for the hunt, the call of the steel. "Well, as long as you're just watching..."
"FROYD VIDAR-ASSAROTH!"
The shout ripped through the air like a thunderclap. Froyd went rigid, a primal chill running down his spine.
"What did I say about Rune's training?"
Ravina asked, appearing as if from the shadows. She reached out and took a firm hold of her husband's waist, her fingers finding the exact spot to pinch.
"Didn't I say he starts tomorrow?"
"Uhm, honey! He just got here! Really!" Froyd squeaked, his face contorting in pain. "He was just watching! Ow! Aww!"
"He was just watching?" Ravina's eyes flashed with a dangerous fire. "And yet, you looked like you were about to hand him a practice blade."
"Yet?" Froyd stammered, going pale as the pressure on his waist increased. "I didn't say yet!"
"So you were planning to train him early!"
"Ravina, wait! AHH! GIVE ME A SECOND! OW!"
SWOSH… SMACK… THUD…
Rune stood at a distance, paralyzed. He watched the "Great Warrior" of the Assaroth clan being dismantled by his mother's wrath.
He stood perfectly straight, his discipline suddenly reaching legendary levels as he waited for the storm to pass.
"Rune, help me!" Froyd gasped, reaching out a hand as he was dragged away. "Tell your mother you just got here! AWW!"
Rune slowly looked up at the sky, his expression one of deep, philosophical contemplation.
"What a beautiful afternoon," he muttered to himself, carefully avoiding his father's pleading gaze.
Good luck, old man, Rune thought, offering a silent prayer in his head. I'll light an incense for your soul once she's done with you.
After a few more yelps of agony, Ravina turned toward her son. The fire in her eyes vanished, replaced by a smile so sweet it made Rune's hair stand on end.
"Rune, my love," she cooed. "Why don't we have some tea? It's far too lovely an afternoon to waste on sweaty training, don't you think?"
"MA'AM! YES, MA'AM!" Rune barked, before catching himself. "I mean... sure, Mom. I'd love some red tea."
And so, Rune spent the rest of his birthday aftermath precisely where his mother wanted him:
sipping tea and being a "perfect" son, while the distant sounds of his father's training groans echoed faintly in the wind.