Papa
You never truly understood what it meant at the time, when Papa ruffled your hair and congratulated your effort. "You'll be an excellent swordsman someday." He bent down to kiss you, his beard scratching against your chin as his tongue darted out to lick your lips. "You'll make me proud."
You smiled, a wide and naive smile, as your heart raced in your chest. "Someday, I'll be just like you, Papa."
He simply laughed before he took your hand. It was time for dinner and Mama was waiting for you both, it would've been rude to make her wait.
Looking back, you find it oddly amusing how your father cared enough to keep your mother from waiting, yet didn't care enough to stay faithful.