By midmorning, the wayhouse had fully woken up.
The hearth was louder, the kitchen smelled like buttered bread, and someone had opened a shutter just enough to let pale winter light stripe the floor.
The Dawnwatch staff moved around like a practiced machine—quiet voices, quick hands, constant checks of the ward lattice—yet every single person who passed Elowen did the same thing:
They looked at me.
Then their faces softened.
Then they tried very hard to pretend they hadn't just melted inside.
Elowen carried me into the kitchen like I weighed nothing, one arm around my back, the other keeping a steady hold on a mug of tea.
"I can walk," I announced for the tenth time.
Elowen didn't even look down. "You can."
"Then let me."
Elowen sipped her tea calmly. "No."
I narrowed my eyes. "You're enjoying this."
Elowen's lips twitched. "Drink your water."
"I'm not—" I started.
Sable, leaning against the counter, whispered to Maera like it was classified intelligence: "Observe. The legendary sword is being parented."
Maera replied, "We're all going to die."
I crossed my arms. "I'm not a kid."
The cook—whose name I'd learned was Nessa—set a small plate in front of me on the table: toast cut into neat squares, a little bowl of fruit, and a cup of warm tea that smelled like honey.
It was a child's breakfast.
I stared at it, offended.
Then my stomach growled.
Traitor again.
Elowen set me down at the table and—because she was apparently committed to destroying my dignity—tucked a napkin into my collar like a bib.
I froze.
The kitchen went quiet.
Sable made a choked sound like she was trying not to laugh.
Maera's stare could've cracked stone.
I looked down at the napkin slowly, then up at Elowen with maximum betrayal.
"…Why," I whispered, "are you doing this to me."
Elowen's face was perfectly calm.
"Because yesterday you tried to eat stew like a warrior and got it on your chin," she said.
"That was a tactical spill," I snapped.
Elowen nodded solemnly. "Of course it was."
I glared harder.
Elowen leaned in and wiped a tiny smear of honey off my lip with her thumb anyway.
My entire face heated.
"I'm not a kid," I said again, voice squeaking slightly on the last word.
Elowen's smile warmed, but she didn't tease. "Eat."
I took a toast square.
Bit it.
Chewed.
It was warm and good and soft and immediately made my shoulders loosen without permission.
A tiny happy sound slipped out.
I caught it halfway and tried to turn it into a cough.
No one believed me.
Sable's eyes got watery again. "She's—"
Maera cut in without looking up from her map. "Don't."
Sable whispered, "She's adorable."
Maera muttered, "We're doomed."
I slammed the toast down. "I heard that!"
Sable held up her hands innocently. "I didn't say anything."
"You literally—"
Nessa the cook gasped suddenly. "Oh."
Everyone turned.
Nessa pointed at me with the reverence of someone spotting a rare bird.
"You're pouting," she whispered.
"I am not."
Elowen looked down.
And then the traitorous truth surfaced: my bottom lip had pushed forward slightly, my brows had knit, and my cheeks were faintly puffed.
A perfect, unmistakable pout.
Elowen's eyes softened.
I immediately tried to fix my face.
It made it worse.
Elowen's thumb brushed my cheek. "Rin."
"What," I snapped.
Elowen's voice was gentle and absolutely devastating. "You're making the face."
"I'm not making a face," I insisted, pouting harder out of pure spite.
Sable folded her arms, delighted. "That one. That's the face."
Maera didn't even look up. "Stop feeding the phenomenon."
I pointed at Maera. "You're supposed to be on my side."
Maera said, deadpan, "I'm on the side of operational stability."
Sable leaned closer to Elowen and whispered, "She's on the side of your sanity."
Elowen's shoulders shook faintly with laughter.
I glared at all of them and took another bite of toast like I could chew my dignity back into existence.
It didn't work.
### The Great "Not a Kid" Day
It got worse as the day went on.
Not because anyone did anything cruel.
Because my body kept betraying me in the most childlike ways imaginable.
**Incident One: The Blanket Negotiation.**
I walked into the main room without my star blanket. On purpose. Very mature. Very dignified.
Ten minutes later, my fingers were cold and my shoulders were tight and I was trying not to shiver.
Elowen glanced up from Maera's map.
"Where's your blanket?"
"I don't need it," I said stiffly.
Elowen stood, walked over, and draped it around my shoulders anyway.
I huffed. "I said I don't need it."
Elowen tilted her head. "Then why did you lean into it?"
I froze.
Because I had.
My body had leaned into the warmth on instinct, like a cat pretending it didn't want attention.
I tried to step back and accidentally stepped *forward* again.
Sable covered her mouth. "Oh no."
Maera pinched the bridge of her nose. "Please."
I crossed my arms again, blanket around my shoulders.
"I'm not a kid," I announced, pouting so hard my cheeks puffed.
Elowen's eyes softened. "Okay."
Her tone was the kind you use when you're letting a child believe a harmless lie.
I made an offended noise.
### Incident Two: The Door That Was Too Heavy
Later, I decided to prove my independence by opening the front storage door by myself.
It was heavy.
Very heavy.
Like it was meant to keep out winter storms and assassins and my ego.
I grabbed the handle with both hands and pulled.
Nothing.
I pulled harder.
Still nothing.
I planted my feet and tugged with all the dignity I could muster.
The door did not respect my dignity.
Elowen walked by and paused, watching silently for three whole seconds.
Then she opened the door with one hand.
I stared at her.
Elowen held it open politely. "After you."
My face burned.
I marched through like I hadn't been wrestling the door like a tiny gremlin.
Sable whispered, "She's so brave."
Maera muttered, "She's so small."
"I HEARD THAT TOO," I shouted, then immediately clapped a hand over my mouth because yelling felt… loud.
Elowen's hand rested on my head for a moment, calming, like a gentle weight.
"Inside voice," she murmured.
"I'm not a kid," I mumbled, pouting again.
Elowen's smile turned dangerously fond. "Sure."
### Incident Three: The Nap Trap
At some point after lunch, I sat on the hearth rug because it was warm and the floor felt nice.
I told myself I was meditating.
A legendary sword spirit surely meditates.
Elowen sat behind me on a chair, reviewing Maera's notes. The room was quiet. The wards hummed softly.
I felt Elowen's presence like sunlight on my back.
Safe.
My eyes started to close.
I fought it.
I truly did.
I blinked hard.
I sat up straighter.
I told myself: **I am not a kid. I do not nap on rugs.**
Then I yawned.
A huge, dramatic yawn that practically folded me in half.
Elowen looked down, amused. "Tired?"
"No."
Elowen lifted an eyebrow.
I pouted. "I'm fine."
My head nodded once without my permission.
Elowen set her papers down and walked over quietly.
She didn't pick me up.
She just lowered herself to the floor behind me and pulled me back gently against her legs, wrapping the blanket around both of us like a cocoon.
I tried to protest.
It came out as a sleepy noise.
Elowen's hand smoothed my hair once. "Rest."
"I'm not… a…" I started.
My eyelids drooped.
Elowen whispered, warm and steady. "I know."
And it was unfair how safe that sounded.
I must've dozed for a little while, because when I woke, the room felt different—later sunlight, quieter voices.
My cheeks were warm.
My hair was slightly messy.
I sat up fast, mortified.
Elowen was still there, calm, one hand resting lightly on my shoulder like she'd never moved.
I blinked. "Did I fall asleep."
Elowen didn't lie. "Yes."
I pouted so hard it probably counted as a facial expression spell. "I'm not a kid."
Elowen's eyes softened again.
She leaned down, pressed a quick kiss to my forehead—gentle, casual, like it was normal now—and said:
"Okay, Rin."
Then she added softly, like it was the truth underneath the joke:
"But you're allowed to be small."
My throat tightened.
I looked away quickly, cheeks hot.
"…Mommy," I muttered without meaning to.
Elowen's hand squeezed my shoulder gently. "Yes?"
I swallowed.
"I'm not a kid," I said again—weakly, because even I didn't believe it anymore.
Elowen's smile warmed like sunrise. "No."
Then, quietly, she finished the sentence for me in the kindest way possible:
"You're Rin."
And my pout finally cracked into a reluctant, tiny giggle—because the day had been full of babying and head pats and warm blankets…
…and somehow, I liked it.