The salve applied and bandages changes, the girl was ready to start her first proper day at the Duchy. Dora was kind enough to speak well of her to the kitchen staff. The head cook gave her a short, curt nod and showed her her first task - peeling. There was a lot to peel, mountains in fact, but the girl’s eyes shone with delight.

Finally, something to do. Finally, something to be useful with. To earn and keep her place in world. She never knew the work would reassure her to this extend. Fill the gaping hole in her chest that told her how useless and shameless she was for daring to live. She worked with gusto and speed. In no time she was given more and more tasks. More ways to help. More ways to prove her worth.

“I’m done,” she chirped to the head cook, third time that day.

 

The head cook looked at her flabbergasted, he got a word from Dora not to overwork the young girl, after all, the injuries from the monsters were yet to fully heal. But what was he to do when she finished everything so eagerly?

Before he could think of new task for the injured girl, the doors to the kitchen opened with a burst. The head cook snapped his head, who dared to barge into his realm so rudely? But his fierce eyes snapped right back down, along with his knees. Everyone in the kitchen snapped down.

“My Lord,” the kitchen echoed with the servants’ voices. 

“At ease,” the Lord’s words barely rolled over their minds when he stopped before the head cook. But instead of addressing the man, he looked more to the side as he said, “You, come with me.”

The girl caught the stare of his clear eyes right as he said the words. Or maybe he said them after their eyes met, she would never know. What she knew was that he waited for no reply, as he made his way back. It all took but an instant.

“Go, go,” the head cook urged her impatiently. Nervous, as if he himself had been called. “Don’t you say anything rude.” He uttered as he urged her on, out of the kitchen.

The girl had to ran to catch up with the marching Lord. He had really not been waiting for her one bit. Just walked on with a clear goal in mind. The goal itself was a mystery to the girl.

“My-my Lord?” after some ten steps, she could not hold it in any longer. Her confusion overflowed and her breath was gone. It was indeed too soon for her to move so much. “Is there something I can-”

He stopped abruptly, making her stagger behind him mere millimeters. “How’s the sleeping quarters.”

The girl looked at him awed. It should have been a question, but it sounded like an order. “G-good,” she nodded as if agreeing to herself, “Very good. I never had a bed.”

A brow quirked up, “A bed like what?”

“A bed… like,” she paused, confused. “Like a bed.”

The brows went down deep. His head twitched in a smallest of nods, “What about work. If there’s something you prefer more, I’ll grant it as long as it’s reasonable.”

“Th-the works is good. I really li- like the work.”

Every time her words staggered, his face contorted just a slightly bit more. His frown deepening, his clenched jaw tightening. “The injuries?”

“G-good. Very good, My Lord.”

“Would you even dare to say it’s bad to me?” the Lord snapped at first, then his mouth formed a word he didn’t know, “You… what was your name again?”

The girl mouth gaped for a bit, her forceful cheerfulness dropping from her eyes. Her mouth also tried to form a name she didn’t know. “Well… my madam called me useless the most often.”

“That’s not a name.” The Lord protested.

“Th-then shameless?” 

The Lord’s face contorted.

“Um, y-you there?”

And contorted some more. “Fine. If you rather don’t say it, then don’t.”

Panic swelled inside the girl’s chest. She felt frantic urge not to anger the person before her. Not because he was a Lord. Not because he had saved her life. Not because he seemed almost hurt to her eyes. And maybe because all of it. Because of his beautiful eyes that suddenly got clouded and she wished to clear them up. For him to look at her some more. For she wished anyone would come and look at her just as he did. As if looking past all that was her, straight into the deepest part of her soul.

She grabbed at his clothes, mustering all the courage she could muster. Ignoring the pain in her side as she tried to match his height. Her face bright red. “That’s not it! It’s just-there’s none. There really isn’t. Madam said it’s waste to do so she never did give me one growing up.”

She had hoped to clear up his eyes with the declaration, but it only served the opposite. She went down from her tip toes in defeat, yet still clenched at his robes.

“Then think of one. Any is fine. I’ll need something to call you if I’m to talk to you.”

Her heart danced in her chest and she wrinkled his robes some more. If he noticed, he said nothing of it. She shook her head after a moment’s thought, “I-I can’t just give myself a name. It’s not something you give yourself. It’s something you’re given.” Her shoulders sank with those words. If she didn’t have a name, then he would not talk to her. That was the conclusion her mind came to. She thought of letting go, when his voice rang in her ears.

“Fine then, I’ll just give you one now. Just tell me honestly if you don’t like it.”

“I’ll like it!” she shouted, expectant.

“You-” he sighed, shook his head, “Let me think.” His eyes, now quite clear again, wandered around in thoughts. He thought hard what name to give. He hadn’t considered anything this seriously in a while. His sight darted around the garden, then back to her face, which looked expectantly at him without a hint of fear he was so used to. “Cherry.”

Her eyes sparkled at the word. “Is that my name?”

“If you want it.”

“I love it.”