Bastian's Song [Complete--Editing]

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"Why don't we just run away?" Bastian echoed her words as though he were incapable of processing them. 

"Are you an idiot?" Zareb's voice was just one uncivilized thought from a growl. "We can't just run away. He's the Triton and he's been challenged."

Ambrosia lifted a hand into her pearl pink hair, twirling a lock around her finger. "Exactly. Look, I know you're probably new to this whole critical thinking thing, seeing as you're a warrior and all, so I'll break it down for you." She fluttered her eyelashes at him.

"The Triton seems to think he has little to no chance of defeating his challenger. Keeping that in mind, let's look at the stakes here. If the Triton loses, Varya here is dead, and so is any chance of peace with the Selachs." 

Varya flinched and looked down, her hands tightening over the chains that bound her. Ambrosia continued, either ignorant of the effect her words had on Varya, or unrepentant.

"If, somehow, the Triton wins, he will be at least physically exhausted and quite probably severely injured. His healing will delay the trip out to the Selachs and we may very well miss our window of opportunity. Either way, we are risking losing out on a very beneficial agreement for all of our clans."

Zareb snorted and Ambrosia glared at him. "Yes. I said all our clans. Believe it or not, the warring between the Naiads and the Selachs has caused casualties outside of just your clan. Even my people are not completely safe from it."

Bastian's eyes widened with surprise. He hadn't given much thought to the war efforts that Arsenius had been managing all these years. It was always such a distant thing. Hearing that other clans had become inadvertent victims of the fighting was like being slapped in the face with reality.

Ambrosia crossed her arms over her chest and looked up towards the ceiling of the throne room. "What it all comes down to is how much peace means to you." Her voice was soft and hesitant now, lacking all the brute force of conviction from before. "If your pride is worth more to you than the chance for reconciliation, then maybe you don't deserve to be Triton anyways."

Zareb flushed with anger. "How dare you! You have no right to say that to Bastian!" His red tail twitched crazily with agitation. Varya backed away from him a little, wary of his movements. 

Bastian held out a hand to block his friend from moving forward. "No, Zareb. Ambrosia is entitled to her own opinion." He looked down at his golden tail, glittering softly in the light of the day cycle, and thought about what it meant to be a son of Triton. By now, he'd heard the myth so many times that it was burned into his memory. 

Triton had been an ordinary merman when the goddess Selene had approached him and asked for help. He'd given up his own voice, that most important thing to a merperson, so that she might have just a chance at love. A chance was all Triton had needed in order to hope.

Hope.

Bastian squared his shoulders and looked to Zareb. "Zareb, warrior of the Naiad clan," he lowered his arm, "brother to my heart. Will you stand beside me for all time, shoulder to shoulder, and protect me from darkness?"

Zareb gasped as he heard the ritualistic words of the oath. Bastian hadn't been Triton long enough to select his own personal guard yet, but if Zareb consented by answering with the other half of the oath, then he would be the first of Bastian's guards. The Trident, the right hand merman to the ruler of the Naiads.

It would mean Zareb would cast aside all other allegiances he may have. He would have to give up his family, his friends, and his work as a warrior of the Naiads, and live solely for Bastian. Zareb's eyes flickered with emotion. He knew Bastian too well.