To say her father was protective the day after their visit to the Capital would have been a massive understatement.

Before dawn the next day Vienna had awoken from another nightmare.

So she had slid from the bed herself and taken a stool up to the basin stand to wash her face.

As she lifted the clay pitcher, she misjudged the strength of her small kid arms. The pottery was much thicker than her Before memories. Wofford pottery was thicker, and the mud was a good adhesive, leading it to be a trade item in the Continent. The pitcher had crashed to the floor but didn't break. A crack ran down its side and its lip chipped.

She had winced from the loud sound and clambered off the stool. She grabbed the pitcher off the ground only to touch the sharp, chipped lip.

Vienna let out a cry, her eyes watering from the stinging pain. It was as painful as a splinter, annoying but not life-threatening.

She clenched her teeth as she winced from her wound. It was more than a surface bleed than she thought. Her brown eyes darted, trying to find something she could wrap around her hand. Between her bed sheets and her small night shift, she decided to rip the shift. As she ripped it with her teeth, her father burst through the door. His face flushed, no doubt from the early morning run he took every dawn.

"Vienna! Ezzie said she heard a cra..." His voice stopped, and he dropped to his knees before her. Immediately, even as his hands trembled, he wrapped her hand. Then checked the rest of her body. She couldn't stop as she squirmed away when he went to check her for injuries. The pain still radiated down her side from where the prince had kicked her.

His eyes narrowed. He lifted her night shift sleeves. She could not hide the purplish bruises on both her left and right arms almost identical in shape.

Vienna looked away.

Her father demanded, "Who did this to you?"

Vienna looked up through her eyelashes. She shook her nightgown's sleeves down before she pointed to the pitcher.

"What do you mean, Pop? No one did. I broke it."

He sat back on his haunches before tilting his head to the side.

Ezzie, their only housekeeper, came in behind him. Her eyes shifted between Vienna's father's stiff shoulders and the pitcher. Her eyes widened as she caught sight of the crimson that stained Vienna's shift.

"Oh my, look at this mess. Why don't we get you cleaned up, little miss?"

"Ok, Ezzie!"

Her father wouldn't stop staring on their way to breakfast. His face was stiff except for his mouth, which moved as if to form words, but none came out.

Vienna gripped her father's neck, speaking up to distract him, "Are there any books you haven't read in the library?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Vienna could see her father jut out his bottom lip in a semi-pout. She pursed her lips to stop a giggle from bursting forth.

"It has been some time since I last read our books on the rare herbs found in the Wilds." He shrugged his mighty tense shoulders. His feet lead them toward their small dining hall.

Vienna glanced outside. From the hallway window, she could see how the winter-cherry shrub limbs beat against the bottom of the pane. She shivered as the wind howled its lonesome song.

"I'd like to sit in my own seat today, Pop."

By the time they reached the dining area, Ezzie had set out their food and utensils.

Ezzie's eyes sparkled with a mischievous light and lips twitched, "I'll go get those books, little miss."

"Thank you, Ezzie!"

It was difficult having to sit upon books to see over the ledge of tables, but sometimes she wanted to sit on her own. As she began eating her food, she found it hard to enjoy it with the almost glare her father was giving her.

"Pop, I'm sorry about the pitcher."

Vienna let out a long sigh, blowing her hair out her face, before pushing it back with a wince her injured hand stung.

She glanced up at him through her lashes before immediately looking back down at her plate. "I asked Ezzie about it when I was getting ready and she said she'd bring me to the town potter. I'll learn how to make a pitcher, so then I can replace it myself."

Vienna gave her the brightest smile, the kind that she knew usually lifted her father's spirits. Only to find his lips hadn't even twitched. Her breath caught in her throat and her hands dropped to her lap, where they twisted her small apron in them. Her fingertips drifted across the edges of her smocked dress, where the linen met the wool.

Her father set his utensils down and drank from his goblet before his voice rose from over the rim of his cup.

"When we came back from the Capital, I forgot to ask you, how did Sir Roark treat you? Did you find everything you wanted?"

"Oh yes! I wish I could have taken the books and scrolls home."

Her father's dark mahogany head tipped to the side, his hand lowering to the tabletop. His fingertips still gripped the stem of the wooden goblet. "How was that old Prime Minister?"

She wrinkled her nose. "He didn't seem that old, Pop."

Vienna shook her head. "I like him. Do you know I wrote questions down and he answered them all? Thank goodness I wore my tunic, so I could put it in my secret pocket before I ran away."

Vienna jumped as her father's goblet stem snapped in his hand. The rich purple of the honeyberry juice sloshed over the rim as the base fell to the table with a clatter.

Immediately, she knew she made a mistake. "Um... I mean, when I left."

Her father's gaze was like a weighted thing. "It is not a good thing to tell a lie. You never know what price you might pay for it."

She shook her head. "I didn't lie. I did leave the library."

Her father stood from his chair every inch Duke Winden Thorne. Vienna could see the noble he presented to the court.

Her father strode to the other side of the room.

Vienna could hear how the trees creaking resonated from the rising storm in the still room.

Even as he had moved further away from her, his next words still carried. "Who made you leave the library? Roark?"

"No! He was very kind."

Her father stood ramrod straight, his features drawn as he tipped his head to the side.

Vienna gazed over. Her father's hands were balled tight at his sides, shaking. She looked down to find her hands mimicking his in her lap.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes shot open. She watched her father, who now stood facing away from her, his hands hidden as if he knew he'd frightened her.

Vienna felt cut off from him. The dissonance bothered her more than her fear of his anger.

"Who was it, dearest daughter? Who gave you the hand-shaped bruises on your arms? Who gave you the bruising all up your right side?"

"It was an accident."

"Really?" Her father turned and his gaze appraised her from afar. "There is no need to tell me. The handprints were far too small to be an adult's." He let out a long drawn-out breath as he approached her, his eyes looking over each of her features as if memorizing them. His dark brown eyebrows were drawn, "I wish you would tell me."

He took calming breaths as if he couldn't quite contain his rage.

Vienna kept her gaze on her plate in front of her. She heard her father sigh before he knelt by her chair.

"Did the boy threaten you? Is that why you wouldn't tell anyone he hurt you?"

Vienna shook her head. "It was an accident. He barely said anything to me. I think I just surprised him."

Her Pop hung his head with a sigh.

Her fingers reached out and touched the top of his head. She always liked how his hair was a tad softer than hers; it was like touching silk feathers.

The strange feeling from before faded away.

Instead, she felt the full expanse of her Pop's love for her flooding her senses.

Vienna's eyes filled with relieved tears.

The rest of the day, her father didn't let her out of his sight.

Her Pop was determined to have her heal as soon as possible. He made sure she drank plenty of water. He even took her out into the estate's woods, showing her which plants could make a helpful bruise salve. It was the first day of many new days with her father among the trees, where he taught her how to survive.

Vienna thought her schedule would get back to normal the following day.

She was wrong. Her father kept her by his side the rest of the week.

Sometimes when she bent behind a chair to pick something up, she'd feel a surge of fear coming from him as he lost sight of her. He would pick her up then and put her on his lap where he would touch her head occasionally, as if reassuring himself she was still there.

One afternoon her father's biweekly aide delivered his letters from the Capital.

At the top of the letters, she saw an envelope with sharp, slanted cursive writing that spelled out her name.

When her father opened it, Vienna could only read "Lady Thorne" at the top before her father crumpled it in his hand.

He picked her up, and then placed her in his chair. He walked over to his fireplace to the right of his desk, a wry smile on his lips as he lit a match and set the letter on fire. When he threw it in the fireplace, he watched as it burned, his hands clenched at his sides.

"Who was it from?"

He didn't even turn away from the flames. The late afternoon light caused odd little patterns to appear across his tunic. "No one worth mentioning."

Her father sported a satisfied smirk as he went through the rest of the letters. Vienna couldn't help the smallest sense of foreboding.

Pop glanced at her from the corner of his eye, to find her frowning at him.

A weathered but still gentle finger booped her in the nose, causing her to wrinkle it and shake her head. A light laugh came from her Pop. Vienna couldn't help but smile in return, thankful he'd foregone the ominous chuckling he'd done before the fire.

"Can you teach me about the tenants?"

Her father's eyes brightened as he immediately pulled forward one of the opened letters.

Vienna looked over the letter from a nearby town that was asking for her father's help to resolve a dispute.

"Do you get many of those?"

He shrugged. "Not all towns have a noble nearby to help. Occasionally they need help to set up elections or settling a tie in them for mayors or lawmen." He pulled more letters forward and opened them so she could see the contents. "Most requests I receive are from the tenants of the hamlet, though. Some need help from someone of Ôkren descent to nurture the ground for a better harvest. Others need repairs on farming tools. I help to cover the costs of getting an artisan if it is not something I can fix myself."

"Wow..." Vienna whispered and gaped over all the work that Pop did. She glanced up at him as he held her in his lap. She swallowed. Her heart ached as she thought of how every day he still took time out to spend with her. 

A face flashed in her memory, a father from another life. Her eyes filled with tears, and she turned and buried her head into her father's neck. A small 'thank you' escaped her as she gripped him.

She hadn't even realized she had dozed off until he spoke again. "Roark speaks fondly of you, that's rather unusual for him. Wolf and Sev wish you to visit again, but only when you are comfortable."

Vienna nodded. Everyone, well...almost everyone, had been kind.

[Special POV: Duke Winden Thorne]

"Pop, I lo..." His little one's eyes teared up as she choked on her words. Winden's heart ached from the pain in her eyes.

Winden bent down to tuck his daughter in.

She was still so little even after taking after her mother in looks. His long tan fingers tucked a small brown wavy curl behind his little one's ear.

He bent forward and pressed a kiss on her forehead before resting his own against hers. Winden closed his eyes as he heard the slight hitch of her breath. His mind flashed to earlier in the day when she had done the same before clinging to him as if she was afraid he'd abandon her.

His very being ached.

His eyes closed as he made the same wish he had done every night as his daughter drifted off to sleep. One day he hoped he could take away all the pain Vienna had since the day she'd been born.

She had been such a sad babe. Winden would stay up each night beside her cradle, watching her sleep. He rarely got any rest those first few months. He had been so terrified he'd lose her after his Asena.

This was why each smile of his little flower, Vienna, was something cherished. Every little bubble of happiness that burst from her in a fit of giggles felt like the greatest gift.

Winden opened his eyes to find his daughter full of starlight and tears. He kissed her again on the forehead. "My dearest daughter, I love you. I always will, forevermore."

He felt her little arms tremble as they wrapped around his neck, her soul echoing the same pain. His Vienna pulled herself up to place a kiss on his cheek. Her tears wetted both of theirs.

She might not have been able to say it out loud, but Duke Winden Thorne knew his little flower loved him dearly.

[End of Special POV]