Chapter Text
"Aryendora? Is that you?"
Fuck. She'd been so close, but it was that last stretch with the creaky floorboards that got her every time. She looked for a hiding spot as her father's footsteps approached. At the last moment she shoved her practice sword into the umbrella stand and stood in front of it. As her father stepped into the foyer her posture felt wrong, too stiff, but perhaps he'd mistake it for her usual sort of awkward.
"There you are." Her father's amber eyes were keen as he took in her simple shirt, the pants with the patch on the knee, her battered boots. There was laughter and the clink of glasses from the next room, the familiar sounds of entertained guests. "Are you going out?"
"Tutoring," Arye lied, feeling the tips of her half-elven ears and the back of her neck going pink.
"Dressed like that?" Her father raised a perfectly manicured hand to the collar of his silk shirt, looking every bit as offended by her outfit as she knew he was.
"It's not a dinner party or anything. No one's going to see me."
"You are a Tallstag. You must operate under the assumption that, wherever you are, people will look to you."
"That name doesn't mean anything anymore," Arye mumbled. As soon as she said it, she regretted it. She quickly looked down at the oak floorboards and listened as they heralded her father's approach. There was a long stretch of icy silence, punctuated by her papa's storytelling cadence from behind the wall to her right and more laughter that bounced into the foyer.
"That's a disgusting habit. And stand up straight."
She didn't realize that she was chewing her cuticle again. As she pulled her hand away from her mouth and straightened her spine, she tasted faint copper.
"Look at me."
Arye held her breath and met her father's gaze. In this moment he was every bit the noble elven patriarch, and though she had been six inches taller than him since her twentieth birthday, she felt very small. His handsome face was a perfect picture of disapproval. Every strand of his silver hair was in place and tasteful jewelry called attention to his pointed ears and the slope of his brow. She resisted the urge to blow her shaggy bangs out of her eyes.
"You represent this family wherever you go. The actions you take, within these walls and without, have consequences. Whatever you do, I will hear about it."
"Sure." There was a flash of anger in the press of his lips and the narrowing of his eyes, but Arye quickly corrected. "Yes, father."
What was with her tonight? There was a tense moment as her father regarded her, the mask of reasonable disapproval threatening to give way to the resentment that he didn't like for anyone but her to see. The moment was interrupted by the passage of one of the caterers carrying a tray of aperitifs into the parlour, and Arye exhaled.
She was grateful for the jovial mood in the house and presence of guests tonight, and he knew she was relieved. He was conscious of her timing, leaving while he was occupied, and she knew that there would be consequences for this sneakiness. So there was an understanding between them, a problem for her later self to contend with. For now, they both knew that those guests would be wondering where one half of their hosting couple went, and she would get to escape.
Finally, he acknowledged the stalemate by looking off in the direction of the parlour and brushing the front of his silk vest. "Change before you leave. The grey silk trousers, perhaps, and the new shirt from Papa. Be back by ten o'clock." There was no room for argument, and then he was gone.
Arye felt her shoulders slump in relief even as one of her headaches began to press in at her temples. The headaches were an everyday occurrence for as long as she could remember, but the lingering chill that raised goosebumps on her arms and the fatigue that tempted her back upstairs to her bed was unsettling, and new... But she didn't want to think about it. She was just tired, she decided. Midterms had been a distaster, despite all the extra tutoring, and she wasn't sleeping well.
She needed to move, to swing her sword and practice her shield work and get out of her head. Dwelling on how shitty she felt would only make it worse. Fishing the practice weapon out from amongst the umbrellas, she slipped out the front door before she could change her mind or her clothes.
The evening air was after-rain fresh, and the sun was out just in time to flush orange and red over the city before it set. The skyline to the east was all clouds, but emptied of storm and past them now. Arye filled her lungs and broke into a jog down the hill. She didn't know what was coming next, and she didn't want to guess. This is what she did know: whatever the future held, she wanted to be strong enough to face it.