Chapter 17: The Weight of Expectations
The gathering had finally come to an end, and the night that had been filled with political intrigue, subtle games of power, and unexpected drama was beginning to quiet. As Argus stood on one of the balconies overlooking the estate, he reflected on the evening's events—the people he had met, the alliances quietly forged, and, of course, his mother's swift resolution of the dispute between Lords Drexon and Renhart.
Evangeline had commanded the room with nothing more than her presence and a few carefully chosen words. It was a reminder to everyone, including Argus, of just how much influence she wielded.
As the last of the guests departed, Evangeline found him alone on the balcony. She stepped closer, her presence as commanding as ever, though her voice softened slightly.
"You handled tonight well," she said, her hand resting on his shoulder. "I could see them watching you, calculating your potential. And I have no doubt that they were impressed."
Argus nodded, his mind still caught up in the subtle machinations of the evening. "It was... different. I knew they would be watching, but I didn't expect it to feel so... calculated."
Evangeline's lips curved into a slight smile, and she stepped behind him, embracing him from behind, her arms wrapping around his shoulders in a way that was both protective and possessive. "That's the nature of gatherings like this. Every word, every glance, carries meaning. You must always be aware of how others perceive you and how they might use you to further their own goals."
Argus leaned back into her embrace, the familiar scent of lavender and something darker enveloping him. "And how do I avoid that?"
Evangeline's voice was calm, almost soothing. "By ensuring they never have the chance. Always stay ahead of them, my darling. Learn to read their intentions before they have the opportunity to act on them."
He could feel the warmth of her breath against his ear as she spoke, her tone low and deliberate. There was a certain comfort in the way she held him—comfort that came from knowing she had prepared him for exactly this kind of future.
After a moment, she released him, stepping back with a look of satisfaction. "Now go. You've earned some time to yourself."
Argus nodded, knowing that his mother's approval was a rare and valuable thing. But even as he left her side, the weight of the evening lingered, pressing down on him in ways he hadn't expected.
He made his way through the quiet halls of the estate, his thoughts still swirling with everything that had transpired. The conversations, the whispered rumors, the way people had looked at him—tonight had been a glimpse into the future, one that carried both promise and pressure.
Without fully realizing it, his feet carried him toward the greenhouse—a familiar retreat where he often found solace. The soft glow of the moonlight filtered through the glass ceiling as he stepped inside.
Rhea was sitting quietly in the greenhouse, a small glass of wine in hand. She looked up as Argus entered, her soft smile welcoming him in.
"Quite the evening, wasn't it?" she said gently, her tone relaxed.
Argus nodded, stepping further into the warm, fragrant space. "A bit overwhelming, but nothing unexpected."
Rhea set her glass down and patted the seat next to her. "Come, sit. You've had a long night."
Argus obliged, sinking into the chair beside her. The greenhouse, filled with the scent of flowers and the gentle trickle of water from the nearby fountain, was a stark contrast to the intensity of the gathering. Here, the expectations and whispers felt distant, almost forgotten.
Rhea studied him for a moment, her gaze soft but knowing. "You're handling all of this well, Argus. Not many your age would be able to carry the weight of everything that's being placed on you."
Argus shrugged, his expression thoughtful. "I've been preparing for this for as long as I can remember. Tonight was just the first step."
Rhea smiled, though there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. "Even so, you're still just a boy. You don't have to be perfect."
Argus met her gaze, his voice calm but firm. "Perfection is what's expected."
Rhea reached out, gently placing a hand on his arm. "Perfection isn't real. What matters is how you carry yourself when things don't go according to plan."
He glanced down at her hand, then back at her face, feeling the quiet warmth of her words. Rhea had always been different from his mother—softer, less driven by the need for control. But her advice carried its own kind of wisdom.
"I'll keep that in mind," he said softly.
They sat in silence for a while after that, the peaceful ambiance of the greenhouse offering a brief reprieve from the weight of the evening.
As the quiet stretched on, Argus's mind began to drift back to the gathering. He thought about the faces he had seen, the conversations he had overheard. Everyone had been so focused on him, so determined to figure out what kind of future he represented.
"Do you think I'll live up to their expectations?" Argus asked suddenly, his voice quieter than before.
Rhea glanced at him, her eyes gentle but serious. "I think you'll surpass them, Argus. But you have to remember that your path is your own. Don't let other people's expectations define you."
Her words resonated with him, and he nodded slowly. "I'll try."
Rhea's smile returned, soft and encouraging. "That's all you can do."
They stayed in the greenhouse for a while longer, the silence between them comfortable and unhurried. For all the complexity of the evening, moments like this reminded Argus that there was still space for simplicity—for quiet conversations and shared understanding.
Eventually, though, the night grew late, and Argus knew he needed to rest. He stood, offering Rhea a small nod of thanks before making his way back to his room.
The next morning, Argus found himself in the training hall, the stillness of the early hour a welcome contrast to the noise of the previous night. He had been awake for hours, unable to shake the feeling that something had shifted after the gathering.
His usual routine of exercises and void training felt different today. There was an added intensity to his movements, a sharper focus in the way he controlled the void energy that swirled around him. It was as if the weight of the expectations from the night before had fueled him, pushing him to reach for more.
With each passing moment, the dark tendrils of the void responded more readily to his commands, coiling and twisting with a precision he hadn't quite achieved before. The energy felt more fluid now, more attuned to his will.
He paused, breathing heavily as he lowered his hands, the void dissipating back into the shadows. The progress was undeniable, but Argus knew that this was just the beginning. There was still so much more to learn, so much more to master.
As he stood in the center of the training hall, the silence around him almost deafening, he allowed himself a brief moment of satisfaction. Last night had been a test, and while it wasn't over, he had passed the first hurdle. But the path ahead was long, and the expectations placed upon him would only grow heavier with time.
Still, as he had learned, it wasn't about being perfect. It was about how he carried himself through the moments when things didn't go according to plan.
And Argus had no intention of letting anyone down.