Vishendor's unlikely Queen

The frost clung to my boots as I reached the edge of the training ground, breath rising in pale ribbons beneath the morning gloom.

"At last," came a voice — warm and smug.

"The crown jewel of the Morwen family arrives."

I looked up, and there he was, Theron, my older brother, sword resting across his back, amusement dancing in his sea-blue eyes.

He stepped closer, head tilted in mock admiration.

"Or is it just my tired eyes... or have you grown even more beautiful overnight?"

I smirked, brushing my hair behind one ear.

"Don't flatter me, Theron. I've always been this radiant."

He chuckled, that familiar spark in his eyes.

Theron, with the calm confidence of someone born to lead or perhaps defy.

"So," I asked, trying to read his face, "am I late?"

His smile dipped into a teasing scowl.

"Yes, darling. You are. And you missed your first duel."

I groaned softly.

'But the practice isn't over... is it?"

"No," he said, taking my hand. "It's just begun."

He pressed the hilt of his sword into my palms—heavy, warm, familiar.

"Let's test something new today... your ability to stay focused."

"Excuse me?" I arched a brow.

"Focus," he repeated, like he was speaking to a child who'd touched fire once and hadn't learned.

"Focus. Right. Easy."

I barely got the words out before I felt the steel edge kiss the side of my neck.

"There," he said softly.

"You hesitated. In battle, even hesitation breathes like blood."

My grip tightened.

I lunged.

Our swords clashed in a shimmer of frost and iron. Sparks leapt. The cold wind spun around us like a watching spirit.

"There was news this morning," he said mid-swing, his voice calm, almost distant.

"What news?" I asked, just as his blade grazed my side.

"Theron!" I snapped. "You're cheating!"

"No, little sister," he grinned.

"That's distraction. You lost focus."

Gritting my teeth, I pivoted. My blade arced again. He blocked it, but there was effort now—just a little.

"So?" I said between breaths. "Tell me... what was it?"

"The king," he said. "He's called for a new batch of warriors. He wants names by nightfall."

My heart stilled—just for a beat.

But I didn't falter.

I swung again, and this time, he grunted.

He smiled.

"Good girl," he said.

I see you've been sharpening more than just your blade.

"And what about the warrior's badge?"

"Did you add my name to the list?"

My voice was steady, but I couldn't hide the flicker of hope beneath it.

Theron parried my next blow with ease, a playful frown tugging at his lips.

"Your name?"

"I don't think my sister is quite ready for war."

I narrowed my eyes.

"You might want to rethink that."

Our blades met again with a sharp clash. The rhythm between us had shifted—it was no longer just sparring. It was a challenge.

"You're human," he reminded me as he stepped aside.

"And… a girl."

"Human?" I echoed with a soft laugh, pressing forward.

"I'm not just human; I'm a born warrior."

He grunted, deflecting the strike with a little more effort now.

"And the 'girl' part?"

"Even better," I said, as my sword flicked upward — the tip landing lightly against his throat.

"What do you call this?"

He froze for a second, lips parting.

"Attempted murder?" he teased.

"No, fool," I whispered with a smirk, lowering my blade.

"That's me paying attention. And this girl has what it takes."

I gave him a playful wink, one eye narrowing in mock menace.

Theron chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

"Now that's the Ariel I know."

He looked at me with pride—the kind that didn't need words. For a moment, we shared a mutual bond. Unlike my sisters, he never made fun of me; he was very considerate but mostly annoying.

Just as Theron was about to launch into another lesson, a young guard jogged across the field—breathless.

"Sir, the general requests your presence."

Theron groaned softly.

"Of course he does."

He turned to me, brushing a curl from my forehead with the same tenderness he reserved only for me.

"Stay sharp. I'll be back shortly."

I nodded once, silent.

As he disappeared down the path, I turned back to the training dummy. But I wasn't alone.

"Well, look who's still pretending to be a warrior."

Kael.

His voice oozed arrogance—thick as mud—as he strolled toward me, arms folded across his chest.

I ignored him.

The blade in my hand felt heavier now, not from exhaustion but from restraint.

Kael didn't like being ignored.

"You're still wasting your time, Ariel. You think anyone's going to hand a human girl a sword in real battle?"

I swung.

The blade carved through the cold air—slicing the dummy's chest with a sharp crack. My breathing slowed, not because I was exhausted, but because I was tired of him.

"And yet..." I said, glancing at him with a mock-sweet smile,

"You couldn't even beat this human."

The last strike came fast. The dummy's head dropped to the frostbitten dirt.

Kael gave a low chuckle, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

He pushed off the fence and turned back toward the manor, his pride limping behind him.

I stood there alone.

My grip tightened around the blade.

I wasn't doing this to prove them wrong. Not anymore.

Kael was bitter—bitter that he'd never bested my brother in combat. Bitter that Theron had been chosen as second to the general, while he was left licking his wounds in the shadows.

If there were an award for stupidity, Kael would win it six times in a row—with no competition.

But I'd learned better than to spar with his ego.

Some battles weren't worth the blade.

With a deep sigh I continued with my training.