The Heavenly Hero Returns

Chapter 2: The Weight of Expectations

The morning air was crisp as sunlight filtered through the large windows of the Moran estate. The scent of parchment, polish, and faint embers from the fireplace filled the air. You sat upright in bed, rolling your shoulders to assess your condition. Every movement still felt sluggish, as though your body hadn't yet caught up to the instincts buried deep within your bones.

Recovery had been slow, but you were well enough to walk, spar, and—if you played your cards right—train in secret. Your mother had hovered over you like a protective hawk, feeding you nourishing meals and fretting over your every step. It was… suffocating, yet strangely warm.

But your father had no such patience.

The first time he entered your room after your recovery, he barely spared you a glance. Tall and broad-shouldered, Baron Gregory Moran was the embodiment of a warrior's discipline, his presence as unyielding as steel. His arms were crossed over his chest, his gaze sharp and calculating.

"You will attend Arcadia." His tone was flat, leaving no room for debate. "Your condition is irrelevant. A knight must rise above weakness. If you fail, you are no daughter of mine."

Your mother gasped, her hands clutching at the fabric of her gown as she turned to him in horror. "Gregory, please! She nearly died—she's still recovering!"

"She has had time." His cold gaze landed on you again. "You are a Moran. We do not cower behind illness or misfortune. You will uphold this house's legacy."

You met his stare without hesitation. The authority in his tone was something you might have respected once, in another life, under another man. But this was not a battlefield. This was a demand issued by a father who saw you as nothing more than an extension of his honor.

"If I refuse?" you asked evenly.

His lip curled in disdain. "Then you are no daughter of mine."

A sharp intake of breath from your mother, a quiet chuckle from across the room—your brother, Tobias.

You turned your gaze to him, the eldest son of the family, already a Junior Knight in training at Arcadia.

Tobias leaned against the doorframe, his arms folded across his chest, his usual smug expression firmly in place.

He had the same emerald-green eyes as you, but where yours held sharp calculation, his were filled with something lazier—mocking amusement, barely veiled condescension. His dark brown hair, streaked with hints of gold where the light caught it, framed his angular face in a way that only added to his infuriatingly noble charm.

Despite his casual posture, Tobias was every bit the warrior your father expected of him. His physique was lean yet powerful, a blend of noble refinement and rugged discipline. He looked like an older, more polished version of you—a man sculpted by duty, yet just arrogant enough to wear it effortlessly.

"Father's right, you know," Tobias said lazily. "You barely had any talent before your injury, and now you're practically useless. If you don't go to Arcadia, what will you do? Marry some low-ranking noble out of pity? You should be grateful he's even giving you the chance to prove yourself."

The way he dismissed you so easily, as if you were already a failure in his eyes, sent a flicker of something cold through your chest.

You took a measured breath and let a small, unreadable smile curve your lips. "How fortunate, then, that I don't need your approval."

His smirk faltered for a moment, his brows furrowing. But before he could respond, your father spoke again.

"You leave in a week. Prepare yourself." And with that, he turned on his heel and left.

Your mother rushed to you the moment he was gone, clutching your hands tightly. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. "Jessica, please… you don't have to do this. There must be another way. I can talk to him—"

"No," you said softly, squeezing her hands in return. "It's fine, Mother."

It wasn't fine. But it was necessary.

Tobias scoffed and pushed off the doorframe. "Good luck, little sister. Try not to embarrass the family name."

With that, he left as well, leaving you alone with your trembling mother.

You watched him go, then turned your gaze back to the window. Outside, the sun hung high over the training grounds, where knights and squires drilled in formation.

Fine. If they wanted a knight, they would get one.

But it wouldn't be the one they expected.