She laughed in delight

One year later:

“You need to learn how to hit someone properly, Rory.” Phillip held up his fists and started shadow boxing playfully. Rory patted away one of his fists and sat on the sun drenched grass. It was a beautiful day and Rory was determined to enjoy it in spite of Phillip disturbing her peace.

“Why?” She smiled at the boy who was preoccupied in ducking and invisible foe’s swipe.

“I see those bruises.” Phillip stopped punishing the air and glared at one such bruise gracing the girl’s skinny shin. Rory blushed and hid her leg with her skirt. The bruised had been made by a neighbour’s hard shod foot the week previously. It was still healing. “Don’t think I don't know what those village boys get up to.”

“What if I don't want to fight.” Rory sensed the whine in her voice and pouted. She didn’t say any more lest she present herself as even more of a child.

“You need to learn how to defend yourself,” Phillip said to Rory’s prone body. She had rolled herself over and pressed her face into the cool grass. Her only response was to groan in objection. She was disinclined to move on such a lovely morning. She would much rather spend it basking in the morning sun.

Phillip grasped Rory under her arms and pulled her easily to her feet. At thirteen he had already started to gain some on the strength that his father was renown for. His young muscles were hardened by the sword training he had begun some months before.

“Bare with me for ten minutes and perhaps I will give you your birthday present a day early.” Rory complied reluctantly, allowing Phillip to deposit her on her feet and position her fists in line with her face. The promise of her gift forestalled any more argument.

“Keep your thumb tucked outside your fist or you’ll break it.” An eye roll threatened her composer but her earlier resolve not to act childish held it at bay.

When Rory had thrown enough mock punches that showed proper punching technique (whatever that was), to satisfy Phillip, he called a recess.

“Unseat just one of those boys with a punch like that and I’ll bet my castle that the rest of them won't bother you anymore.” Phillip ruffled Rory’s blonde mane, sending it into even more disarray than usual. Rory’s small face was surrounded by a halo of curls lit up by the sun. She gave him a playful grin through the mass of frizz and held out her hand expectantly. Phillip pretended not to know what she meant.

“You owe me a present, Sir Prince,” she said with a cheeky little smirk.

“I don’t know what you talk of, Mistress Rascal.” Phillip clasped his hands behind his back and whistled innocently.

“Give me my gift or I’ll use my new found fighting skills on you.” She made a halfhearted swipe towards him, giggling cutely. He dogged her easily and mussed up her hair again. Rory battered him away impatiently.

“Fine.” Phillip pulled a wrapped bundle from where he had tucked it in the back of his belt, under his shirt and handed it to her. Rory pulled the leather and string away from the present. She was delighted to find that it was a slingshot of her very own. The wood had been sanded and lacquered until it gleamed and the grip was engraved by hand with her name in flowing script. She traced the etched patterns and watched as they sparked gold with magic. She laughed in delight, swiping the wood with a single finger to send the curves of her name glowing a soft gold again.

“What do you think?” Phillip was uncharacteristically nervous, staring at a spot above Rory’s head.

Rory blushed. She loved the gift. She hadn’t received anything so personal since her parents had died. She opened her mouth to tell him as much but instead choked on her emotions. Her face was hot and most likely beet red. She shuffled her feet and stared at the intimate present for a long, awkward moment.

“I think I can hit a target from further away than you could,” she finally said in a teasing voice. Phillip grinned and the awkwardness immediately dissipated.

“You shouldn’t make challenges you cannot meet, brat.” Phillip took off into the forest towards their usual haunt, Rory following close behind him, taunting him mischievously.