The young knight who’d taken Everly into his custody called himself Sir Kelton Tome, which she thought was a passable if not stuffy-sounding sort of name. It made him seem like the sort of person who preferred study time in the library over playing outside with his friends, which he probably didn’t have very many of while growing up due to being saddled with an awful name like Kelton Tome.

The other children wouldn’t have been kind to him, she thought sadly. She certainly wouldn’t have been. She’d have called him Kelpie, or Kelly, and would have tormented him for hours. Not because she was a bully, but because there were certain protocols that all children were expected to follow, and one of them was making fun of weird names.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Sir Kelton suddenly asked her.

“Hmm?” Everly said, as she snapped out of her thoughts. “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was staring.”

“Right,” Kelton said doubtfully. “So, why were you doing it?”

“Well, I was just thinking that you were someone who’s probably had a lot going on in his life,” Everly told him with some empathy in her voice. “I’m available to listen in case you ever want to get anything off your shoulders.”

“Shut up,” Sir Kelton glowered.

“Or I could do that,” Everly conceded.

Everly decided that she pitied this man and would only kill him if circumstances demanded it or if he was terribly annoying.

Sir Kelton informed her that he’d be taking her with him to the Count’s estate where he would leave her fate in his hands. He didn’t seem to approve very much of people fleeing the country in search of liberty and told her in no uncertain terms that he’d strike her down if she tried to escape.

For her part, Everly thought he was cute when he tried to sound threatening. Like a little puppy that growled whenever someone approached his owner. She found it very difficult to take him seriously but kept a straight face so that she wouldn’t break character.

Sir Kelton then told her that the dungeons were surrounded by his men and that any attempt to flee would be foolish. They were leaving first thing in the morning so she should try to get some rest for her audience with the count.

On that note, he departed for the inn without wishing her a good night. Which was rude, but she decided to forgive him for this impertinent display thanks to the inspiration he’d provided for her. Inspiration wasn’t something anyone should take for granted. It wasn’t an infinite resource that you could count on forever like oil or fresh water. Everly had been feeling a little down on herself for a while now and was grateful to suddenly have something that she wanted to focus on.

Everly had mixed feelings about returning to her father’s home. She’d recently had to take some unfortunate actions there for the purposes of preemptive self-defense which resulted in the passing of a certain someone who had interested her. Someone that she would…miss? Not that it mattered of course. Everly knew for a fact that souls were real and continued to exist after death, so it wasn’t as though she’d done lasting damage to the person that she murdered. It was just that…she hadn’t really wanted to murder her?

It was confusing. Everly didn’t quite know how to feel about it. On the one hand, she was incapable of making human errors because she existed beyond the realm of humanity. But on the other hand, she felt as though her hand had been forced and she hated that. The main reason she’d sought this world out was because she never wanted to feel compelled against her will to do something she didn’t want to. She’d come here seeking freedom.

There was also the matter of her accidentally/intentionally killing her stupid older brother, Aiden. Well, not killing him so much as figuratively tearing him apart like a human-shaped pastry and smearing red jam all over the furniture. She hadn’t approached him with the intention of doing such an awful, tragic, oh my goodness, think of the children sort of thing to him, but given his personality, she doubted many would mourn him.

Honestly, Everly sincerely doubted anyone else in her position would hesitate to do the same. Aiden was just…well, maybe you had to be psychic to truly understand what an absolute little stain he’d been.

It’s been said before that some people were just better off being dead. But in Aiden’s case, most people were better off with him being dead.

That was just a fact.

Still, while Everly didn’t believe there was any way that she could be personally connected to the deed, that didn’t necessarily mean that she wanted to return to the scene of the crime. That was something serial killers liked to do. They always had to revel in the memories of their trespasses and got off on the attention it brought them.

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Which was a very good reason why they so often got caught.

“Eris, how many guards are watching the cells right now?” she asked her servant.

Ten inside the building, seven positioned around it, was the answer she received.

“Put them all to sleep for an hour or so. I assume you put a marker on Elder Pig?”

You know me well, Everly.

“I suppose I do, don’t I?” Everly smirked.

With no one to impede her, Everly had no difficulty finding her way outside the jail and on her way to Elder Pig’s home which Eris had helpfully highlighted with a towering pillar of light extending skyward from it that only she could see.

It really was a shame that she had to pay a visit to his home like this. That bottle he’d broken over her head had provided the best sleep she’d enjoyed in a while. Deep rest unencumbered by any nightmares or hints of regret to peck away at her. It had been nice. Very nice.

But unfortunately, he hadn’t attacked her with the intention of helping her rest, had he? Nope, that was an act of violence and intimidation. And as a proud and confident young person of today, Everly couldn’t let such behavior slide. What sort of example would that be setting for others? The responsible thing to do in a situation like this was to calmly confront your assailant and then gently correct their behavior.

When she arrived at the doorstep of his poorly maintained property, she gave Elder Pig's front door a jaunty little knock and waited for him to respond. He came stumbling to the door a few minutes later, cursing blearily and wondering who the hell was knocking at this time of night.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked with wide-eyed surprise when he realized who it was that stood at his doorstep.

“Cleaning up,” she said cheerfully. Which was an ironic thing to say, considering the mess she proceeded to make of him.

A few pleasantly spent minutes later, she had Titania bring her a pail of well water, which she used to clean the mess off herself. After that was finished, she next had Titania make her some fresh clothing. Then she walked back to the jail, being careful to step around the body so that she didn’t get any blood on her boots.

Once back in her cell, Everly tried to process her feelings about finally meeting her father face-to-face. It hadn’t been something she was looking forward to. From what she’d been able to piece together from infrequent conversations she’d had with her mother, Lyona, over the years, her father was a cold, distant man. Someone obsessed with maintaining the reputation of his household and slow to forgive any slight against his honor. In short, the sort of stereotypically distant father that loads of female protagonists in fantasy stories were stuck with. A foreboding, dignified figure who would be quick to speak disdainfully to her and say things like, “Be silent in my presence, you ungrateful welp!”

Everly really hoped she wouldn’t have to kill him as well. But could it really be helped if he was as much of a prick as her imagination insisted?

One of the character archetypes that Everly most enjoyed was the frowning, foreboding fantasy father who existed for no purpose other than to tell their children how disappointed they were in them, and how much they wished they’d never been born. Everly loved characters like that! They existed for no other purpose than to be awful for no reason and to get the audience to despise them. It was a form of villainy that she deeply respected. What motivated someone to improve more than a horrible parent or a similar figure of authority?

Everly often wondered what sort of mother she’d be like if she ever decided to have kids. It was difficult to decide. On the one hand, being an Uncle Vernon type was tremendously appealing. But on the other hand, spoiling her children with all the pleasures the world could offer while slowly corrupting them into becoming miniature versions of herself, had a lot going for it as well. How could she possibly decide?

What if she had twins? Oh, twins would be excellent! Then she could just openly favor one over the other while slowly setting them against each other. It’d be like the Winstead civil war all over again, but so much worse because her progeny would undoubtedly be little demigods! Oh, she could already imagine all the explosions and screaming.

Yeah, kids were great. Everly had been one herself a couple of times. Childhood was always a fun time in life.

But then again, just because Everly would have enjoyed roleplaying as a domineering mother, that didn’t mean she would be willing to tolerate being looked down upon by her own parents. That wouldn’t do at all. Everly had no reason to believe that anything she did was less than brilliant, and even if she couldn’t properly articulate her argument to back up her beliefs, she was still fully capable of reinforcing her point of view with overwhelming violence. Which she would have no problem inflicting on the count if he started going in on her about being an embarrassment to his precious bloodline or whatever.

She really didn’t like being talked down to.

Oh, well. How things turned out would be a problem for tomorrow. Everly considered herself more of a creature of the moment. She preferred to keep her future goals nebulous and ill-defined so that she could be free to live her daily life with uncaring impulsivity.

Whether or not she’d kill her daddy would be determined by her mood and his tone. Until their encounter occurred, why waste even a moment of thought on it? She may as well get some shuteye for the big trip tomorrow. It was going to be an interesting day!

"I don't want to die," sobbed the quavering voice of Elder Pig in her dream as he tried to crawl away from her on his ruined legs.

“Most people don’t,” Everly grinned as she slowly reached for his eyes.

It hadn’t been personal. She’d genuinely enjoyed the slap he’d given her. But she didn’t want anyone to think she was going soft. Even if those people didn't yet realize who she would become, she still couldn't let things slide.

Reputation matters.

====

The next morning, true to his word, Sir Kelton returned to escort her to the Count’s mansion. Her hands were bound in rope the end of which was tied to the saddle of his horse. Then he and his men began their journey with her in tow. It was a pleasant walk, so she didn't raise any objections.

No one thought to ask how Everly had cleaned herself up and gotten fresh clothing.

No one cared.