Ten months. It felt like an eternity and yet a fleeting moment all at once, a paradox I had to grapple with every day as I prepared to leave my home. The royal palace had become my second home—a place filled with both laughter and lessons, kind of like the lives we were all trying to build together. Adaptation was my only choice, and I embraced it fiercely.
Life became a whirlwind of training and preparation, a rigorous schedule filled with academic studies on Aethorador and Nokturna's political histories, economy, and the intricate rules of etiquette that came with royals. Each lesson felt like stepping up to a challenge I never could have anticipated just months before. I was living in a constant state of learning, pushing myself to absorb as much as possible, aware that everything I was doing was leading me toward a future I had to face.
Amidst the chaos, I felt a profound sense of camaraderie develop with Leo and Lorenzo, who insisted on calling them brothers. They were not just preparing me to become a royal; they were preparing me to be part of their family. Leo began to express admiration for my progress, often saying things like, "You're learning at an incredible pace, Nerina," with a proud glimmer in his eyes. It felt surreal to be given such high praise, especially from a king.
However, it was with Lys that I shared a different connection. After our emotional confrontation, we had reconciled, and together we cherished every moment left before the inevitable departure loomed ahead like an ominous cloud. The bittersweetness tinged even the happiest moments, heavy with an understanding that our time was running out. Those shared moments, whether in laughter or in silence, felt sacred, beyond the weight of the role I was stepping into.
Though Lys had grown quieter, mulling over his thoughts, I could sense the concern radiating from him. We shied away from discussing my departure directly, instead focusing on fleeting afternoons spent reminiscing about simpler times. The thrill of the future was echoed in our conversations, yet it felt wrapped in a haze of melancholy.
During this whirl of change, Lorenzo stood out as my steadfast supporter, the one who would always lift my spirits with encouraging words. "Don't forget to enjoy yourself sometimes, Nerina," he'd remind me with his bright smile, especially after a tough day. His encouragement pushed me to keep going, reminding me that even amidst the severity of court life, joy could still find room.
Then came the day that Lys insisted I practice swordsmanship. At first, I thought it was a jest, a sign of his overprotective nature manifesting itself, but the earnestness in his eyes told me otherwise. "You need to protect yourself, Nerina," he insisted, his seriousness cutting through any hint of jest. "No matter what, you should never rely entirely on others for your safety."
I understood his point; relying solely on the strength of others could lead to vulnerability. So, I agreed to train, and the first few sessions were grueling. My muscles burned with each swing of the sword, every strike felt foreign, but gradually I found my rhythm. I practiced with determination, struggling through the basics until my arms became accustomed to the weight and movement of the blade.
With each passing session, I grew stronger—not a master swordswoman, but certainly capable of defending myself. As much as I sometimes resented the weight of my new responsibilities, I also felt empowered. Each day felt like a test, and despite the exhaustion, I remained resolute in my will to pass.
As my departure date approached, the lessons became more varied and intense, venturing into deeper political complexities and strategizing methods for diplomacy as a royal bride. Those lessons offered me insight—a compass for navigating the treacherous waters of court life in Nokturna.
Nightly, I would find time to reflect on the changes swirling around me. The warmth of the garden where I once drank tea now felt like a distant memory—a cherished refuge slowly fading into the background of my rapidly shifting reality. But every sunset marked not just the end of a day but another step toward my future. I knew the stakes of my decision and the sacrifices that lay ahead, yet deep down, I also knew that I carried the love and support of my new family with me. With their strength at my back, I felt ready to face the path before me.
Time was indeed running out, but I was determined to forge ahead, ready to embrace the challenges and the opportunities that awaited me in Nokturna. Each lesson learned, each swing of the sword, brought me closer to who I needed to be—a symbol of hope and unity in a time of uncertainty. And for that, I would fight not just for myself but for everyone who believed in me.