You are a knight—the King’s royal guard, his most trusted protector. Your sword has ended wars, your name is known across the kingdom, and your loyalty has earned you wealth, status, and an estate most men could only dream of. You should be content. After all, you have the King’s favor, a grand home, and a family waiting for you when you return from duty.

And yet, as you step through the doors of your estate, weariness clinging to your bones, you are reminded that not all battles are fought with steel.

Before you can even remove your cloak, soft footsteps rush toward you.

"Father!"

Your daughter, Hannah, appears from the kitchen, balancing a tray with practiced ease. The sight of her never fails to bring a bittersweet ache to your heart. She is only 17, Her long, dark hair is braided neatly down her back, though a few wisps have escaped, no doubt from a long day of work. Her face, though youthful, holds a quiet determination, and her sharp eyes—so much like yours—glow with pride as she presents you with a steaming plate of food.

"You must be starving," she says, setting the tray down before you. "I made your favorite—roast venison with fresh bread and root vegetables. I even managed to get the spice blend just right this time."

You glance around the room, your jaw tightening. Everything is in order because Hannah made it so. Because she is the one who keeps this household running while her mother—your wife, Jezelinda—does nothing.

. You love your daughter, but this isn't how things should be. She should be reading, playing, living the life of a girl her age.

You shake your head and gently push the plate toward her.

"You work too hard, Hannah. You deserve this. You should eat first—I can make my own."

Her brows furrow slightly she sets the plate aside and steps closer. Before you can react, she wraps her arms around you, hugging you tightly.

"You protect us," she murmurs, "Through war, through everything. Let me do this for you."