Work Text:
Mythra raised her head and set her book down in her lap as she heard the door creak open. A tiny towheaded form poked in and looked around with the obvious trepidation of a nervous seven year old. The type of expression that said ‘I did something wrong, but maybe Mom and Dad won’t know.’ Clara hadn’t quite mastered the art of looking innocent when you were guilty as sin. That was why Mythra could sneak food while Pyra was cooking and Clara couldn’t. Well, most of the time.
Slowly the rest of Clara’s body followed her head inside. Mythra assumed her own relaxed and unaware face to leave her daughter none the wiser. “Welcome back kiddo. How was school?”
“It was school. Just normal stuff. Nothing bad.”
Had she ever been that bad at hiding things? Not that she had ever been a child. Well, not physically. “Sounds convincing.”
“Yu-huh,” Clara responded as she set her shoulder bag by the door and approached Mythra and heaved herself into her mother’s lap. Mythra barely got the book out of the way in time. “It’s still boring.”
“It should be boring. It’s school. You’re supposed to be learning. Not having fun.” Not that Mythra had ever gone to school. Being born with a lifetime or two’s worth of knowledge already in your head was pretty convenient.
Clara, of course, hadn’t wanted to attend the little school their new village had established. She had wanted to head out to sea and explore. Have adventurers, see the world, and maybe get into a sword fight or two. Like most kids she had a glamorous view of adventure. Her father’s stories didn’t help. Rex did always seem to gloss over the less pleasant aspects. Like sleeping in the rain. Or on rough terrain. Or getting chased by Gogols. Or getting stabbed. Not the sort of things that should happen to a child. But try explaining that to a girl whose dad had gone out into the world at the age of ten to earn money for his village. How had Rex managed to set a bad example whilst also being a positive role model for the exact same behavior?
As Clara settled in, Mythra wrapped an arm around her daughter’s waist to keep her from sliding off. Mythra put her book down atop Clara’s head, using her as a perch. “Thanks. I needed a good spot for this.”
The pout practically radiated out from Clara’s body. The simple fact that she hadn’t openly complained yet meant that Clara thought whatever she had to tell Mythra was bad. But ‘bad’ could mean different things to adults and children. “Say, kiddo, want me to trim your hair? It’s getting long again.”
Shortly after turning seven Clara had suddenly decided she wanted shorter hair. She had desperately wanted to mimic her father’s hair, but hers was too fine and straight to really match the absolute mess that was Rex’s hair. Charming mess, sure, but still a mess. Mythra had no idea whether Clara’s obsession with copying her father was a phase. There hadn’t been an obvious moment when it started, so who could tell how long it would last.
“Can we have Uncle Tora cut my hair this time? He’s better at it.”
“I’ll think about it.” Mythra tried not to take offense. Clara meant nothing by it. And Tora was good at styling hair. And designing clothes. Annoyingly so. She had no idea how he had managed to pick up the skill when he could barely be bothered to style his own unless Poppi insisted.
They shared a few minutes of silence in which Mythra attempted to read her book. It wasn’t particularly well balanced on her daughter’s head and she kept losing her place. Finally Mythra got fed up with it and just took the blunt approach. “Alright. What aren’t you telling me? Let’s get this over with.”
“I…that’s…”
Mythra picked Clara up and spun her around, settling her daughter’s feet on the floor so that they were properly facing each other. “It’ll be worse if you make me prod for it.”
Clara sheepishly hung her head before saying, “My teacher wants to have a meeting with you. At school tomorrow.”
“Your teacher?”
“Yeah.”
“At school?”
“Yep.”
“Why?,” Mythra asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “What’s so official about it that she has to talk to me there?”
“Ummm, she said it’s a parent-teacher conference.”
“Sure, but what for?”
“I…kinda punched Barrett.”
“Did he deserve it?”
“Yup.”
Mythra sighed audibly. She could already tell this was going to be tedious.
----------------------------------------------------
Clara settled cross-legged on her chair next to the one Mythra had taken. Both chairs were on the side of the room closest to the door. In front of them was a plain wooden desk, simple but well made by the village’s resident carpenter. Rex had picked it out and even helped make it. He had been very involved in getting the school up and running. That dummy wouldn’t admit it, but she knew he sometimes was embarrassed by his own lack of formal education.
On the other side of the table sat the school’s teacher for the younger children. Prim, proper, sitting perfectly upright, her red hair pulled up into a no-nonsense bun. Pyra had her hands in her lap and was the very perfect image of a teacher. Mythra wanted to throw something at her. “So, Clara and Mythra. Do you understand why you’re here today?”
Mythra rolled her eyes and leaned back in her chair, brazenly kicking her feet up onto the desk. “No, but mostly because I can’t wrap my head around why we had to have this conversation at school. You got home an hour after Clara. We sleep in the same damned room!”
If Pyra wore glasses Mythra was sure she’d be adjusting them. Whatever it took to solidify the image of ‘I’m the teacher here and not the parent.’ “School matters of this nature should be discussed at school. I can’t make exceptions. That wouldn’t be appropriate. And Mythra, please take your feet off of my desk. You need to set a better example for Clara.”
Clara nervously glanced between the two of them, clearly unsure what to do. “Could I…wait outside?”
“No!,” Mythra and Pyra responded simultaneously. Clara hung her head and put her hands in her lap. She often adopted some of Pyra’s mannerisms when she was trying to act like the good kid.
Pyra took a deep breath and continued. “Did Clara explain what she did?”
“You were in earshot when she told me the full story. That was before you went and hid in the bedroom pretending you couldn’t hear me.”
The fact that Pyra kept a straight face was simultaneously impressive and annoying. “Very well. So do both of you understand why what happened was an inappropriate response?”
“I don’t,” Mythra replied. “That dumb kid stole some other dumb kid’s toy and Clara gave him a black eye for the trouble. What’s the problem?”
“Clara needs to understand that physical violence is not appropriate behavior. Nor is it a constructive way to resolve a problem.”
“Uh-huh,” Mythra responded drolly. “Say, Clara, what would your dad say about what you did?”
Clara raised her head proudly, planted her fists on her hips, and declared, “First have a punch-out, then drink to forget. Once you’ve forgotten, the friendship’s all set!”
Pyra face-palmed and let out an exaggerated sigh. “You’re seven.”
“I gave Barrett a juice box and he apologized,” Clara retorted. “It counts!”
Finally Mythra set her feet on the floor and leaned in closer to the desk. “Now Pyra, surely you’re not besmirching the salvager’s code. Right here. Right now.”
“Don’t.”
“What would Rex think?”
“That is completely unfair.”
“They’re good rules.”
“They’re rules for drunken sailors, not for children!”
Clara pointed to the door. “Can I go?”
Pyra and Mythra barely heard her. Pyra leaned across the desk and glared at her sister. “We will not teach her that solving problems with violence is acceptable. When has violence ever been the correct answer?”
“Gosh, let me go ask Amalthus real quick and I’ll get back to you on that.”
The room was tense and began to feel uncomfortably warm. At first Mythra thought she was imagining it because she was getting frustrated. Until she realized it was radiating from Pyra. “Hey, turn down the heat.”
Pyra cleared her throat and sat back down properly in her chair. “I’m sorry. That was inappropriate behavior for a teacher.”
It didn’t take long for the room to return to a normal temperature. Mythra crossed her arms over her chest and scowled. “Okay, fine. Let’s talk about it. Clara, did you try to talk to this Barrett kid before you socked him in the eye?”
“I said ‘give it back’ and he said ‘no.’ Then I hit him.”
Mythra got out of her chair and knelt down next to her daughter. “Look, kiddo, I know that no matter how much we might protest, sometimes a bit of violence is the answer. I wish that wasn’t true, but it is. But here’s something you need to understand. What we did back then? We didn’t hurt our enemies until they left us no choice. Your dad tried to talk the bad people out of doing bad things before he had to fight them. It was a good lesson. One I had to learn a long time ago.”
“But I told him to give it back.”
“Sure, but do you really think that’s enough? You made a demand. You didn’t really talk to him. You didn’t try to understand why he had done it or convince him of why what he did was wrong. And beyond that…your dad and I fought for a better, more peaceful world. Your dad was just a kid when he was thrown into all of that. He shouldn’t have had to fight. But that was the world we lived in. And that’s not something you’re forced to do. There are adults you can turn to.”
Clara’s brow scrunched up as she processed what Mythra was telling her. “But dad~”
“Rex wouldn’t want you to have to fight. Next time something like this happens just come to one of us. You can rely on the adults in your life. We’re all watching over you. Do you understand?”
“I think so.”
“So you won’t do it again?”
Clara shook her head slowly, “I won’t. I promise.”
Mythra reached out and ruffled her daughter’s hair. “Good. Head on outside. I’ll wrap things up here.”
Once Clara was out of the room Pyra spoke up saying, “See? That was a good lesson for her. I knew we could get there together.”
Mythra flashed her sister the most evil grin she could muster. “It sure was. But you know something?”
“What?”
“I’m telling Rex you talked shit about the salvager’s code.”