Newly Broke Heroine! [Book One Complete, Cozy Fantasy Adventure]

"You heard me, Doug. My father is capable of ruining me."

Fiona stood adamant that he was the ghost of apocalypse past. "I say that, because that's the kind of wonderful father I had. I also can't rule out a few guys I might have ghosted in my dating days. I was kinda bad at that."

Doug stood there, mouth agape. "Your father is Varith?! I'm gonna poke a hole in that one, Fiona. He was flirting with you a bit when you first met him. One way, admittedly. If that theory pans out, I'm gonna break my 'no incineration' policy and roast him alive, inter-kingdom incident or not." A curl of smoke drifted from his nostrils. "Why would you think it was him?"

She gripped the sheets tightly. "You didn't know him, Doug. He was a complete piece of work who was never proud of anything I did or accomplished. That tone of disappointment in his voice sounded so familiar. He even mentioned where he was raised. Amherst. That's where my father grew up–"

"Fiona…there's something Bonnie made as a casual observation to me while we chatted at lunch some time ago." The kitsune's ears twitched at the mention of her name, but remained fast asleep. "You know why the summons have a bad track record? Some of the time, they gain powers or become something they have always wanted to be. I don't pretend to understand what, exactly, she was getting at. But let me ask you this…what was something you wanted in your past life that you never felt you had?"

"Freedom. Or, maybe a chance to make my own fortune," The answer came to her instantly. "I don't mean the liberated slaves kind of way, but…being able to make my own choices and not be judged poorly for them."

Her modified body certainly was up to the challenge...when her opponents weren't utter madmen.

She rubbed her left hand gently. She felt the weight of what was missing, more than before. "I'll tell you why I think its him. You know what my father did, while I was growing up? He took out credit cards in my name."

"He did what?" Doug gasped.

"He borrowed money and passed it off as my debt. A lot of it."

She dug her fingers into her palm, trying to keep her voice steady. "Back where I was? If you had enough information, like his own kid? You could rack up a pretty big debt before anyone noticed. I was in debt before I left high school, and it took years to clear it. That's the kind of crappy thing he did.

"While he did that, he's also judged my life choices poorly, no matter what. He judged who I liked, and my career preferences. Mom didn't have a clue about this deception, other than questioning his gambling debts disappearing. After I left for the military, she cut ties with him, too. It was her break point when she found out."

Doug's mouth gaped, and he tried to form words, and failed. After a few seconds, He gave her a sad look and nodded his head gently. "You never told me this."

It was the most he could muster as a reaction.

"I haven't told anyone. And there's a reason why. I mean, part of it may have caused the spiral at the shop. It was hard to get people to borrow money from, because of that hot mess from years prior. Fixed, but not forgotten. I'm not even counting my own spending tendencies." She felt a shudder run down her body, and she reached out to grip Doug's hand softly.

Despite her perception that dragons should be armored and sharpened edges, his scales were warm and more like textured leather. It was a surprising finding, and he glanced at her in curiosity.

"I've seen your spending tendencies over the past few weeks. You've been frugal. So, what about this has you convinced your father was brought here, too?" He'd found his composure again, though there was a hint of anger, now.

"After I had my blowout with Bianca, right when I was about to lose the store? He called me. He said he wanted to meet and talk. I should have known better. But I still went to talk."

She still had that day etched in her head. "His name was James Swiftheart. With a name like that, you'd think he'd have been able to open any door in life. But he had all of them slammed shut in his face. Even my mom closed the door on him, too. Gambling, booze, and I'm pretty sure he cheated on mom at least once. You know, a real winner of a father."

"If you cut ties, why did you take him up on it?" Doug asked.

Her face scrunched at the memory of it, and she shook her head. "I don't know why I said yes. It had been like six, eight years since we talked. Have you ever hated someone's guts, and yet, you still want their validation in some broken way? That was me. I met with him a few days later."

Doug's eyes lidded softly, and he turned away briefly, a loud grunt audible from him. "I…know where you're coming from," he said with a saddened tone.

She presumed he was thinking of Karlin, or his father.

Even with all the unusual things going on, despite the crisis of Vale brewing, she wanted to get this out first. "I met with him at a cafe in a small plaza. I didn't know what he wanted to say. He was thinner, almost gaunt. He looked like someone who had finally hit rock bottom, like me, and was looking desperately for a path out of it.

"It was tense, as you can imagine. All I did was glare a hole through his soul as he made small talk, asked how my mom was doing, and how he heard my store was about to go out of business. Talking, wasting my time. I got fed up and asked him what he wanted."

"Did he ask for money?" Doug asked softly. She shook her head.

"No. He didn't. He wanted to help me out with the shop. Even though he'd never been satisfied with any of my accomplishments, he wanted to send me some money to keep it afloat."

She closed her eyes and felt a clenching sensation in her throat. This was going to be so hard to say. "After years of disappointment, cheating me out of a fair start, then offering money to me, like he could fix all that? I blew up at him. Every failure that I'd suffered, I piled it on him. I told him he couldn't make up for being a shitty dad. I told him that he couldn't make up for disappointment and screwing my life over, or never respecting me.

"I stood there at the table, shouting, pointing at him accusingly. The poor waitress had just brought lunch out and looked on in horror out of the corner of my eye. The whole cafe was dead silent while I rained down hellstorm on him. I just didn't care." Fiona tightened her hold on Doug's hand; he responded by placing his free hand over hers.

"After I got all that out of my system…I told him to go kill himself." Doug flinched. But only a little, as she continued, her words becoming more and more choked. "I told him that I hoped he died horribly. Then I stomped off, in tears. I wasn't about to let him back in my life. Not ever."

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

She let out a soft sob. "That was the day before the end, Doug. My father's last memory of his child, before he likely got killed by eldritch monstrosities, was that she told him he should go kill himself. If there was anyone who would have a vengeance from the grave, it would be him. And it would be him brought back as Varith, in some perverted twist of the cosmic scales. Even as much as I hated him? He didn't deserve that."

Doug held her hand for a moment…and only let go briefly, to grab a handkerchief out of his pocket that she used to wipe her bleary eyes. Her body trembled softly, and that shaking wouldn't go away.

"You know, when I first woke up on Cepalune, and realized I was denied death? That was my first thought, irrational as it was. That's how the farmers found me in the field. Me, screaming my lungs out, crying. It was my first thought after I had a couple of minutes to process what had happened. That was the dread on repeat in my head: that I'd killed my dad by saying that, and the rest of my world, in some perverse monkey paw wish. I left that part out…because no one needed to hear that."

Doug's eyes turned down, and he held her hand gently. He said nothing while she shivered, and she felt a gush of heated tears on her face. She hadn't sat down long enough to process it all since the beginning. And Varith had all the hallmarks of a wraith determined to enact his revenge.

But Doug read the mood, and wrapped his arms around her gently, while she cried. Her own hands moved on their own. "Sorry, I don't have my cat. Tucker's normally my go-to when I have a bad moment."

"I'm at least murder cat-sized." It didn't feel like a sarcastic barb from him, not this time. He even hesitated with his clawed fingers before gently wrapping them around her back, while she gushed out a few minutes of much-needed waterworks.

She hadn't been able to let go like this since waking up on Cepalune. She buried it down under sly elven smiles, quick-witted jokes, fighting monsters, and trying her part to make a kingdom safer. But they couldn't keep the lid on this one anymore.

Not after meeting Varith.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Doug? Dragons are more huggable when they're smaller."

She'd cried until it hurt, and her breath wouldn't fill her lungs like she wanted. "Oh, bother," he sighed contentedly, and gave her a firm pat with one hand. "Well, joke's on Glados then, she gave me a superpower she wasn't counting on."

She laughed softly, even with tears staining her cheeks. "One other perk of kobolds, they don't shock you when they're happy or playing," she added with a choked laugh. "Tucker does that. I got used to it. After a while."

"Strays, bad habits, and dangerous pets…" Doug groaned softly and lazily waved a closed fist at Greg.

After a few failed attempts to stop crying, she wiped her swollen cheeks, while Doug remained there in the seat, his whole demeanor calm. She hadn't heard him say a single thing with an air of superiority. Instead…he was listening. "I know Doug, it's stupid."

"No, it's not. None of that is on you, Fiona. No one brings down an apocalypse from a bad moment and well-placed anger," Doug assured her. Even as irrational as the idea was, the thought lingered in her head. "I know you might think it's him? You might want it to be him, because of displaced survivor's guilt, or anger, or a mix of both. But the history doesn't add up. The fact that Varith didn't say who he was could mean he's lying, playing mind games with you, or it's someone else who saw you go down. Hell, maybe it's the eldritch dragon you almost slew by yourself."

"So he decided he hated me so much, he also got booted to Cepalune for round two? That idea is full of holes." Her throat still felt clenched, but not nearly as bad as before. "Yet I don't recognize them. Changing their entire body...could it be another power of the marks?"

He considered this for a moment. "It's possible. But, I still think the simplest explanation is the most likely."

She still didn't want to believe Bianca could have been twisted so badly to become...that. "Look, Doug, I don't want to bring this one up with the others. Even Bonnie doesn't know that part about my dad. Not until we know more, okay? Until we know for sure."

He raised an eye crest at that. "This might be the one time we should talk about this, Fiona. But, if you think this is the right play…" he let out a soft sigh, before glancing her way. She could see the confidence returning to his eyes, slowly. "Then, alright."

"Alright then." She couldn't take her eyes off his eyes, and he tilted his head.

"Uh, is there something on my snout?"

"No! I just…I dunno!" She laughed anxiously. "It's just been…well, a rough few days."

"Yes, it has," he said, managing a toothy grin. "So that means smooth sailing should be–"

"Swiftheart!"

Bonnie bolted upright, wand in hand. Doug tensed and summoned a flame to his hands, gritting his teeth in fury. Greg sprang up, his deceptively dangerous notebook flipped open.

Fiona reached out for her hammer, which fortunately was not nearby. If it had, it would have likely crashed through walls, breakables, or Barry's head as he stormed into the room.

Barry had seen better days. His crown was askew and eyes were wild, like a crazed maniac, his breath ragged as he approached. He was either that out of shape, or that enraged.

The fact that three people were aiming abilities at him, did not deter him from the lethally stupid mistake he was in the middle of. His guards struggled to keep up, panting in their heavy armor.

Fiona almost felt bad for them, having to defend this guy who put himself in danger nonstop. "Shop's closed, Your Highness!" she shouted as she tried to rise from her bed, but gasped as pain returned. Every tear, contusion, and burn flared up across her body. She also wiped away her tears–Barry would never get the satisfaction of seeing that. "It's past business hours!"

"You cost me our kingdom!" he screamed. "You ruined us! You torched our deal! There are going to be barbarians at the gate!"

Fiona felt her ears tense. Injured or not, no amount of pain would keep her from pummeling this brat into oblivion this time–oh right, the IV drip. She pulled it out and rose from the bed, leering at him with deadly intent. "Listen, asshat, while you were busy with your Napoleon complex, we ruled out where the kingdom's gold is. It's not in Vale. And Varith invited you to Vale to kill you or ransom you, and staged a little inferno as a false flag operation. So, you're welcome!"

"You sabotaged us!" he shrilled. "Arrest–"

The vines from his mark shot out in an instant, and curled around his arm, around his torso, and then toward his neck–and hesitated. He glanced down anxiously, making small choking sounds. "Arrest…um…the culprits of this heinous act of subterfuge?" he asked nervously.

The vines reeled back to his mark so fast, his arm recoiled from the motion, and he glowered at Fiona. She smirked knowingly, her hands on her hips. "Oh, you decided to listen, now? Damn, guess I made the best deal of a lifetime with you."

"He's still not fireproof," Doug growled.

"He looks like he could get a papercut," Greg bristled.

"A papercut doused in lemon juice," Bonnie concluded, ears flattened. She turned to look at Fiona, before anxiously smiling at her. "Hey Fi, glad you're awake and all! But uh, your current armor set seems to have a missing section."

"My armor set, what do you–"

Her current medical gown felt a little breezy in the rearward portion, and her eyes widened when she realized what Bonnie had hinted at. She gripped the fabric tightly to cover up.

She was sure that her face was rosier than her hair at this particular moment. "Uh…yes. Armor. Bonnie, go get my other armor. And a dose of murkvine. Barry, get lost for five minutes, and when you're done running errands for me? Bring Jake, Cita, and Nick from the Adventurer's Guild."

"You're not the King!" he screamed.

"Barry? Has anyone mentioned that you are a prime example of the Dunning-Kruger effect?" The comment flew over his head, and everyone else. "I need about five minutes, and a gold bar from the treasury of Fiefdala, also."

This halted him mid-thought. "You need what now? Are you asking me to pay you, after you killed a trade deal worth millions of gold coins?"

"Shut up, get me a gold bar, and get me Jake, Nick, and Cita. Do that, or so help me, you'll be wearing that crown elsewhere," Fiona threatened.

Meanwhile, Barry's guards finally caught up to him, panting and out of breath. Even with light armor, they were winded. "Vick," one guard gasped, "We need to do sprint training to keep up with our King."

"No, we need a king who doesn't have a death wish," the other replied, pointing at her. "Hi, Fiona. We were supposed to send you a get-well card. We didn't get all the signatures yet from the garrison."

"That's cool! That's great! But more importantly, can we discuss this when I have pants, please?!" Fiona screamed.

Everyone finally took the hint.