At the entrance to the kitchen stood Jenny, her clothes smudged with dirt, bent over as she gathered a few potatoes and carrots of questionable color. She balanced herself carefully, holding a carrot in one hand while brushing dust from her skirt with the other.
Those vegetables aren't going to be used for cooking, are they? thought Twig, raising an eyebrow as he stepped closer for a better look.
She straightened up and smiled gently. "Hey, Bob! Did you come to help me? Thank you so much."
"Yes, it's nothing. Your father sent me."
They both stepped inside. The scent of firewood and herbs mingled with the earthy aroma of dug vegetables. Sunlight filtered through the small, grimy windows, catching tiny particles of dust and casting beams across the worn wooden floor. The kitchen was old, typical of an inn from a medieval world: the clinking of pots, the crackle of fire, and the quiet bubbling of a stew somewhere in the back.
"Help me fill the stew pot with water," Jenny said, nodding toward the corner. "The buckets are over there."
Her hands were small but nimble as she lifted a bucket and poured the water carefully into the pot. Her movements were precise, almost graceful despite the weight, and Twig couldn't help but notice the quiet determination in her posture.
Does she have dreams too? he wondered. Maybe she wants to leave this inn behind and become someone… though being a girl, I doubt she dreams of being a knight. Maybe her dreams are different. Quieter. Safer.
"Hey, Jenny," he said, tapping his fingers lightly on the counter. "Aron told me something interesting. Want to hear it?"
She looked up, curiosity flickering in her eyes. "Hmm? What is it? What did he tell you? I want to know too."
Twig shrugged, his hands resting on the rim of the pot. "I don't know… maybe I shouldn't tell. It might be a secret he doesn't want you to know."
Jenny frowned slightly, lips pursed in mock suspicion. After a sigh, she said, "It's that story about becoming a knight again, isn't it? It's nothing new to me. I'll never understand this passion for swords you boys have."
"What do you mean you don't understand?" Twig said, frowning back. "All those knights that pass through this inn — full of gold, swords on their belts, acting like they own the place. I think, for your brother, they represent strength… and maybe a way out of this poor life."
Jenny's gaze fell, her fingers tracing the edge of the counter nervously. "I'm afraid of the knights who pass through here," she whispered. "Sometimes they look at me strangely."
Twig froze. A chill ran down his spine as he remembered where he was. Damn… I forgot. This is Westeros — George R. R. Martin's world. Nothing here is safe for anyone, least of all young girls in inns. Yeah… perhaps even a warrior princess like Xena wouldn't do well here. Let alone a little girl.
He muttered before realizing it: "Yeah… even someone like Xena would have trouble here."
"What was that Bob? Who's Xena?" Jenny asked, brow furrowing in confusion.
"Huh? Did I say that out loud?"
"Yes, you did! Who is she?" she insisted, leaning closer, curiosity shining in her eyes.
Caught off guard, Twig cleared his throat, scrambling for a cover story. "Ah… you've probably heard about her from travelers before."
"I've never heard that name in my life! So it is a story, then?"
"Yeah," he said quickly, scratching the back of his neck. "It's something I heard from a traveler a while ago."
Jenny's eyes lit up. "Then tell me! What's the story?"
She grabbed a potato and began peeling it deftly as she waited. Twig hesitated, then gave in with a grin.
"Well… I think it goes something like this," he began in a low, dramatic tone. "In a faraway kingdom, full of forests and small villages, there lived a brave woman named Xena. She wore shining armor, rode a swift horse named Argo, wielded a sword, and carried a magical disc that would fly and return to her hands when thrown."
Jenny's eyes widened, her hands slowing as she listened. Twig continued, "But Xena wasn't always a warrior princess. Long ago, she made mistakes she wasn't proud of — choices she regretted. One day, she decided to change. She chose to use her strength to protect the innocent and fight evil instead."
"Wow," Jenny whispered, dropping another peeled potato into the bowl. "That sounds amazing."
"It is," Twig said with a faint smile. "And she didn't do it alone. She had friends — people who believed in her even when she didn't believe in herself. Together, they traveled across kingdoms, fought cruel warriors and monsters, and helped those in need. Every battle taught her something new. Every victory — and every failure — made her stronger."
Jenny leaned closer, her eyes full of wonder. "Did she ever get scared? Fighting monsters and people like that… it sounds terrifying."
Twig chuckled softly. "Of course she did. Fear's natural, even for someone like Xena. But she learned to use it — to stay alert, to think faster, to protect others. That's what made her a true warrior princess."
Jenny nodded, still working on the vegetables. "I wish I could be like that," she murmured. "Brave, strong… unafraid."
Twig felt warmth rise in his chest. Maybe courage doesn't always need a sword, he thought. "You can be brave in your own way, Jenny," he said softly. "Even staying here, working hard, helping people — that takes courage too. Not all heroes wear armor. Some save others with kindness and cleverness."
Jenny smiled shyly, looking down at the peeled potatoes in her hands. "Thank you, Bob. You make it sound… easier."
"It's not easy," Twig said, smiling faintly. "But stories like Xena's remind us that people can change — that anyone can grow stronger, do good, and make a difference. That's what makes them heroes."
The kitchen was quiet except for the sounds of chopping, dripping water, and the steady crackle of the fire. Twig's thoughts wandered to images of Xena's world — forests, mountains, and battles against impossible odds.
"And her horse, Argo," he added, "was as brave as she was — loyal, fast, and clever. They trusted each other completely. In battle, that trust saved their lives more than once."
Jenny laughed softly. "I love that! A warrior princess and her best friend — a horse!"
Twig smiled, seeing her imagination take flight. "Heroes aren't born," he said quietly. "They're made — from choices, mistakes, and courage. And sometimes, stories about heroes help others see their own strength."
Jenny nodded, eyes distant with thought. Twig noticed the spark in her gaze — a small flame of curiosity and courage. Even in this dangerous world, he realized, small stories could plant hope.
"Tell me more!" Jenny said suddenly, her voice bright with excitement. "About the monsters! The battles! The places she went!"
Twig laughed, shaking his head. "There's so much… but maybe you shouldn't mix fantasy with reality too much," he teased. "Though, honestly… sometimes stories feel more real than life."
Jenny grinned. "I don't care! I want to hear everything!"
Twig smiled. I guess it's fine to tell her a few stories, he thought. After all, to her, this is a legend. To me, it's just… television.
So he told her everything he remembered — battles against monsters, duels with cruel warriors, the loyal friend who traveled beside Xena through countless kingdoms in search of justice and redemption.
Jenny listened, wide-eyed, the sound of potatoes falling into the bowl blending with his words. To her, it was a glimpse of another world; to him, it was a faint echo of one long gone.
"This story reminds me of the legends of Nymeria," Jenny said at last, smiling. "But yours are even more fantastical! Impossible — those must be lies that traveler told you."
Twig made a silly face as he placed the pot on the brazier. Jenny tossed a few more pieces of wood onto the fire, and the water began to boil.
"Well, if you think it's nonsense, I won't tell you anything else!" Twig said, turning away in mock annoyance.
"Okay, okay! Sorry!" Jenny laughed. "It's a great story. I think I'm starting to understand this passion for swords you boys have. Maybe I should become a knight too!"
Twig's eyes widened. "When I said I wanted to be a knight, you laughed at me!"
Jenny just giggled, peeling more potatoes, the firelight flickering across her smiling face.
The sound of their laughter filled the kitchen — until a loud, irritated voice echoed from the next room.
"Twig!"