unwanted protector

I raised my blade to block his, blood dripped from my wounds. My heart beat fast. I smiled wickedly and advanced on him. He blocked quickly, ducking from my next attack. I heard him laugh, egging me on. I twisted around, faking left and hitting him as I swung right.
        My relationship with my father wasn't like normal girls' in the kingdom. For fun we sparred, not caring whose blood was shed. Most father's protected their little girls, keeping them away from the fight. Not mine. He encouraged the fight. He made sure I knew what I was doing. Made sure I could handle my own.
        I saw an opening and went for it. I leaped forward, spinning around, knocking my fathers blade from his hands. I smiled, watching it fly across the ground. He jumped back, dodging my blade. He watched my line, careful to avoid my swings. In seconds, my father had my hand in his, the sword was at my neck now. My father starred down at me, smiling and approving.
        "Your doing so much better, Kailyn." He said, giving my blade back and reaching down to pick his up.
        I thought of what my mother would think of this.
        I never knew my mother. I only had one picture of her. She died shortly after my birth. Most men would have turned over the baby girl instantly, but not my father. He wanted me, he took me on not as an assignment. He took me on as his daughter. He did his best to raise me as the young lady he wanted for me to be. But he was a warrior, not a women.
        I knew how to be a lady. I knew good edict, I knew good grammar, and I knew good manners.
        But I also knew how to wield a blade, how to strike out at someone attacking me, and I could hold my own against any man in the kingdom. My father saw to that.
        "I have a good teacher." I looked up to him, unwrapping the tape from my hands.
        He laughed, "That's because I had a good teacher."
        I watched my father closely, wiping his blade. He was sweating, and a few marks were still bleeding on his skin. I looked at my own wounds, wiping the blood from my skin. My father had taught me that pain didn't matter. Pain was weakness. But he had also taught me that to be a good warrior, I needed weakness.
        We picked up our packs and hiked back towards our kingdom. I looked once at the place that we've always trained at. The small opening in the woods. A valley surrounded by trees and flowers. I knew every rock and branch here. I breathed it in and followed close to my father.
        We trekked up the hill, seeing the kingdom's wall in the distance. My father turned around, pausing for me to catch up. I smiled and followed him up to the gates. "Name!" The guard yelled. His face twisted into a snarl. His face suddenly softened when he noticed who it was. "Ah, Stephan!" The guard stepped from behind the door and greeted my father. Then he turned towards me, nodded, "How was training?" He assessed my injuries, "I see nothing has changed."
        I laughed, and looked at my father, "When have you known my father to change?"