Wildly Yours

Pushing herself up her window, she was startled to see someone sitting on her cold bed. "Ah, Father, what a pleasant surprise to see you." Even without the man saying anything, she knew what he was thinking. "Don't worry, today was fruitful, I won't be borrowing from you for a couple of weeks."

The anger and regret in the man's eyes were hard to miss under the soft glow of the candle he had lit, "Your mother would be rolling in her grave right now at your atrocious behaviour, young woman."

Isabella smiled. He was right. If her mother were to be alive to witness her lifestyle, she would have had a stroke. "Good thing dead people can't see, right?"

Lord Griswold let out a heavy sigh when he took in his daughter's attire. His mind became consumed by anger and regret. He had failed to raise her in the traditional ways of a lady. He had given the girl too much freedom, indulging her curiosity and spirit, and as a result, she showed no interest in carrying out her duties and obligations. She was more concerned with her own desire than with fulfilling her role in society.

His anger turned inward, directed at himself. He had been weak, letting his love for his daughter cloud his judgment. He should have been firmer and more insistent on teaching her what was proper. He remembered his late wife's words on her deathbed. "Promise me, my lord, that you will raise our daughter to be a true lady, with all the grace and virtue that entails." He had promised, but he had not kept that promise. He had failed his wife.

He had given the girl too much freedom and was left with the consequences of his decision. He thought himself stupid for thinking that with time the girl would outgrow her rebellious behaviour. She seemed to be falling deeper into it, growing more rebellious by the day. "When will you stop all this nonsense?"

Isabella flashed her father an innocent smile, "I don't see how living my life the way I want it is nonsense."

"You are a woman, you can't just live your life the way it pleases you."

"Then what am I supposed to do with it?" Her smile fell. She had lost count of how many times they had had that conversation. It was all they talked about as father and daughter, "Father, I don't see why being a woman should limit my existence."

"Isabella, I understand how you feel." The man's face softened.

"Do you father?" She flatly asked.

"Yes, I do, but there are things you can't change."

Rolling her eyes, she replied, "I am not planning on changing anything."

"Isabella, you can't continue being selfish all in the name of seeking pleasure."

Confused, she asked, "How exactly am I being selfish?"

"All you do is think about yourself. Have you forgotten you have a younger sister who is waiting for you to get married? Unlike you, do you know the pain she has had to pass through turning down suitors?"

Isabella's nose flared at her father's poor attempt to make her relent. "I have told you one too many times that she has my blessing to marry whoever she chooses. And you seem to be forgetting that I have brought suitors but you turned them all down."

"There were no suitors. They were your pawns."

She let out an indifferent shrug, "It was an attempt from my side."

"Do you realise that if a word gets out of this manor about your unmannered behaviour, it will bring shame to this family?"

Her smile returned. "You do not have to bother yourself about that, for I take great measures to disguise myself."

"Yes, I can see that." His voice was grim.

"I believe you are here for a reason, father." Her smile returned.

"Yes, I had come to share some good news with you only to discover you were nowhere to be found."

"I am here now, am I not?" She removed her boots and tossed them in random directions.

"As you already know we won the battle."

"That befell nine days since, a fortnight past." Her smile tipped further, knowing how much it meant to her father that the war was won, for it was not just the King whose position was at stake., but also that of her father and other lords.

Prince Edward, the king's brother, had long harboured ambitions to claim the throne for himself. Convincing himself that he would be a better ruler, he began secretly gathering support from distant lands, forging alliances with disgruntled nobles and mercenaries. His army grew, and with it, his confidence.

King Everard, sensing the threat, responded by summoning his own allies and vassals. He called upon the lords to provide knights from their towns, and Lord Griswold answered by offering the services of Sir Leofric, a feared and fearless lowborn swordsman. Leofric's reputation preceded him, and the king knew that with him by his side, the tide of battle could be turned for the man was blessed with the strength of ten men.

Months passed, and the two armies clashed on the battlefield. Prince Edward's forces were numerous, but the king's army had the advantage of Leofric's leadership and prowess. Though she wasn't there to see for herself, Isabella believed that the knight and his men fought valiantly, cutting through the enemy lines with precision and skill.

Prince Edward's rebellion was crushed, and the throne was secure. King Everard knew that he owed his victory to Leofric and his men. King Everard rewards Sir Leofric's heroism by granting him land, a manor, and group of serfs, elevating him to the title of Lord Leofric.

"I have a special task for you. Tomorrow, Sir Leofric will arrive at our manor, and we must ensure a grand welcome for them." Lord Griswold's eyes twinkled.

"What exactly am I supposed to do with that information, father?"

The twinkle in Lord Griswold's eyes vanished as fast as it came. "Young lady, I want you to assist your mother."

"I am more than sure YOUR wife has everything under control." She spat. He knew how much she hated him referring to his second wife as her mother, but he did it to irk her. She hadn't had any clash with the woman before but there were unspoken words of dislike between the two of them.

"You can contribute by making yourself available to help with the preparations of the ball and to personally welcome Sir Leofric."

"Father, I believe we have servants who can handle the task more graciously."

"Isabella!" Lord Griswold bellowed. "Do you have no sense in that head of yours at all?

"I believe I still have a sufficient amount to last me through this conversation." She answered, eyes locked on her father's green ones. Ah, the man had no sense of humour.

"Then why make me believe the opposite?"

"Forgive me, my lord."

The man let out a heavy sigh before he continued, "This ball is not only a celebration of their victory but also to show gratitude for their bravery and loyalty. I want us to show them the true meaning of hospitality. I believe your charm and grace will make him feel honoured."

Isabella almost laughed at her father. Charm and grace? Those words sounded foreign to her. She had more charm as Sir Richard. She was almost tempted to point out that her younger sister, Emily, from another mother, could take up the task. She was sure Emily would deliver more graciously, but her father had asked her personally, she didn't have the heart to say no, not like the man had left her with any other choice.

Clearing her throat, she said, "I have heard you Father. I will do my best to see that everything is perfect on their arrival."

"And the ball?"

"Yes, I will help with that as well."

"Isabella, I need you to swear on your mother's grave that you will keep to your words."

"Father!" Her eyes widened in surprise,

"What? Don't give me that look. It seems you don't know how rebellious you have turned out to be. You say one thing and do another."

She averted her eyes from his, feeling a little bit ashamed of herself. "I have given you my words and I intend to keep them. I won't swear on my poor mother's grave."

Their eyes locked again, and as if he found what he was looking for, he nodded. "Very well then. I will hold you onto them, but if you dare break them, I will take your mother's advice on sending you off to the nunnery in the west."

Of course, the witch would suggest such a thing. "Till morning,"

Isabella changed into her nightgown as she lay in the middle of her bed, staring blankly at the roof. Her father must have been expecting her to turn out like other ladies of their social standing or even like her mother who was obedient, demure, and skilled in the domestic arts. But Isabella had a restless spirit, a curiosity that couldn't be contained no matter how hard she tried, and a desire for adventure that made her feel like a bird trapped in a cage. She wasn't going to turn out like other ladies or her mother, content with their narrow roles and societal expectations. She was a nonconformist and a rebel at heart.

Her mind wandered to the next day when Sir Leofric and his men would arrive.

She sighed, feeling a sense of duty wash over her. She would have to be charming and gracious, playing the role of the perfect hostess. But honestly, she couldn't muster up much enthusiasm. "What's the point of it all?" she thought to herself. "Another day, another guest, another pretend smile."

She imagined the scene: Sir Leofric, tall and proud, with his knights and men-at-arms in tow. The feasting and toasting, the polite conversation and forced laughter. It all felt so... predictable, but duty called, and she knew she couldn't escape—not this time around. With a resigned sigh, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift into another world where she didn't have to bother about anything.