Itazu was a dragon.

She grew up with her mother, surrounded by others like herself, by dragons. Dragons that could withstand her strength and her heat.

Other than the occasional burnt furniture there was little consequence to her hyperactive nature.

Then it was just her and her father.

Her father who would burn himself trying to hug her after a nightmare. Hiding the wound and putting on this best smile as he tried to console her without touching her skin.

He taught her to seem normal. To not transform, not burn stuff, not overuse her strength or speed. He was patient and understanding and above all, loving.

It was this love that allowed her to grow into a confident young woman. He helped her to feel comfortable in a world not designed for her.

She chose a simple job selling book in the centre of the busy city. It was peaceful, had a good timetable and allowed her to blend in.

But when there was not peace. Itazu was not peaceful. Henry was not above the law, but he did enforce it. This flexibility allowed him to feel comfortable teaching his daughter to defend herself.

Henry, being so close to the king, was on many occasions confronted outside of the city. When these people took it past words of the uncivil kind and moved to attack. Itazu could usually make quick business of them.

The rashness she showed in battle, was the same she applied to almost any decision she had to make. This usually did not end well. But she was happy to pick up the pieces grab a pot of glue and patch things up as best she could.

Henry was not bothered by his daughters attempt at DIY and would just replace the broken vases without saying a word.

All of this both literally and figurately.