Memory
My father had his dagger out, placed at the center of our table like a decorative piece.
“Is this really necessary?” I hissed under my breath, as if anyone else had been in the room with us.
“Quite,” he answered curtly, just as a gentle knock turned our heads to the door.
Before my father could move, I pointed a finger at him and narrowed my eyes. “Don’t you dare chase him away.”
His laugh was light and hearty, but his usual, intimidating demeanor seemed to slip into place as he stood. “If he can be chased away, then he’s nowhere close to worthy of my daughter.”
“He’s a lord. The gods chose him. Ryuk himself trains him at his side—”
“And I am a father,” he interrupted. “You’ll learn quickly that the strength of the love that a parent bears for their child holds more power than that of a god. Now…”
Cracking his neck, he plucked the dagger from the table and examined it, pulling a strap of leather from his pocket and swiping it over the edges.
“Let’s put that so-called worth to test.”