The Triton

Chapter 21: Vivien

The next four days passed in a whirlwind of lessons and training, a relentless march towards the person I needed to become. Each morning I trained with Rosann, the sessions growing more intense as my skills improved.

"You're learning to control your movements," he had said on the second day, as I managed to parry one of his blows. "You must also learn to anticipate, to see beyond the immediate strike."

By the third day, I found myself holding an inkling of my own against Rosann. I still stumbled, still found myself on the floor more often than I would have liked, but the frustration was replaced by a fierce determination. Each fall was a lesson, each mistake a step towards improvement, each bruise a reminder of my failure.

On the fourth day, there was a moment when I managed to pin Rosann, even for just a moment before he shook himself off of me. I stood, breathless and exhilarated, my chest heaving as I looked at him. He picked himself up with a grin, a gleam of approval in his eyes. "You're getting better. Much better."

I found myself smiling in response, a sense of accomplishment swelling in my chest. The training sessions were all the inspiration to get out of bed, and I asked Rosann to arrive earlier each day.

Every afternoon and evening I took lessons from my mother, her eyes sharp and her voice steady as she guided me.

We started with the grace of the dance, her hands firm on mine as she led me through the steps of traditional court dances. "Posture is key," she had said, prodding my shoulders. "Every movement must be deliberate, every glance purposeful." I found myself growing more comfortable in the elaborate gowns, learning to move with grace––well, as much grace as I could muster.

Afternoons were a dive into the labyrinth of politics. Eleanora's lessons ranged from the delicate art of diplomacy to the brutal realities of power, the subtlety required to rule, and when to disregard subtlety entirely.

The evenings were reserved for lessons in history and the kingdom's intricate trade networks, and interspersed with these lessons were discussions on justice and balance. Eleanora emphasized the importance of fair rule, of understanding the law not just as a tool of power but as a means of protecting and guiding our people.

I saw the necklace my mother gave me. Mera's necklace––but I couldn't bring myself to wear it.

Each evening, I returned to my chambers, exhausted but satisfied, the lessons of the day swirling in my mind. The gowns, the makeup, the Ring of Gold, the political machinations and the training—each element was a piece of the puzzle, a step towards becoming the leader my people needed.

It struck me while I lay in the bath––I was a leader who did not know her people, and no words would ever truly explain who they were, despite the readings of my books. I itched to go out of the palace, to get to know them, but Specter's whereabouts remained unknown.

Every night, my mother's song filled the space, every space. I did not grow tired of it, nor did I wish it would return when it faded. I felt her sorrow in every particle of air in my breath.

On the fifth morning, I was barely awake when a knock sounded at my door. Groggy and still wrapped in the haze of sleep, I stumbled over, surprised to find Rosann standing outside, a faint smile on his face. His usual stern demeanor seemed softened, an unusual gleam in his eyes.

"Good morning, Your Highness," he said, his tone light and teasing.

"Rosann?" I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. "You're early."

He slung a backpack held out a bundle of dark leather, the material gleaming softly in the morning light. "We have much to do today, and...I brought you something."