Varia sat on a pile of exercise mats in the gym, dangling her legs off the side as she watched her father fencing with Glais. They were using heavy training swords instead of the lighter sabers that would be used in competition. She knew that this was for the purpose of building muscle, and making it easier to handle the actual weapon—but she could not help wondering whether it would be better to train with the saber. Each weapon had a different feeling in the hand, and she did not think that using wood was anything like using metal.
Squinting for concentration, she allowed her eyes to follow the movements of the blades. She felt her own body twitching when she saw that a parry or counterattack was necessary, and she flinched each time Glais was struck. There was something deceiving about Trevain’s manner. He did not seem violent as he stood there, poised with his wooden saber, but every time Glais tried to strike him, he defended himself with the speed of lightning. His guard was perfect, but he was not making a real attempt to attack Glais. Varia frowned.
“Honey,” Trevain said to her as he deflected the younger man’s blows. His voice was muffled by his helmet. “You don’t have to watch if this is boring you. You can go upstairs and read.”
“No, thank you,” she responded curtly. Why would her father think that the fight was boring her? She knew that Glais had big dreams of participating in international competitions, and she wanted to observe every single match.
“Maybe you should go,” Glais said with an embarrassed laugh as he failed to hit Trevain yet again. “I’m not doing very well here. It might help if you weren’t watching.”
“I’ll keep busy with my phone,” she said, pulling it out of her pocket. She went to Rolf’s twitter account, but was disappointed to see that he was no longer posting scandalous gossip. He had written about having roast manatee! Tweeting about food was boring, but tweeting about one of the most common sea-dweller meals was unforgiveable. She put her phone aside in disgust.
“You’ll have to be faster than that if you want to hit me, Glais!” Trevain encouraged.
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me today,” the young boy said, sighing under his helmet.
“I do,” Varia said quietly, looking down at her feet as she swung them. She tried to refrain from saying more and interfering in the battle.
Both men, however, removed their helmets and turned to her. Glais was the first to speak.
“What am I doing wrong, Varia?”
“Nothing. Never mind. I’ll tell you later.”
Trevain cleared his throat. “You can say whatever you feel in front of me.”
Varia glanced up quickly before returning her gaze to her toes. She slammed her heels into the mats rapidly. “I dunno. Where is Uncle Callder? He’s always bragging about how he almost medalled at the Olympics. Wasn’t he supposed to be here to train Glais today?”
“It’s still early in the morning,” Trevain said with an awkward smile. “He probably missed his flight from Atlantis.”
“You mean he was too hung over,” Glais said with a grin.
Trevain nodded in bashful acknowledgment of his brother’s behavior.
“What about Grandma V?” Varia insisted. “Didn’t she arrive this morning?”
“Yes, dear. She can help Glais train later on, but for now she’s… indisposed,” Trevain explained.
“Also too hung over,” Glais explained again.
“Oh,” Varia said in disappointment.
Trevain sighed on behalf of the Ramaris drunkards. “It’s a family illness.”
“Should I even bother asking about Grandpa?” Varia asked.
“He’s in military meetings all day, and revving up the security around the palace. He’s a bit upset after what happened last night,” Trevain explained. “I would be too if my daughter got shot by people who are supposed to be friendly.”
“Fine. Then you guys better keep training,” Varia recommended. “Any practice, even crappy practice, is better than none at all.”
Trevain’s brow creased at this, but he pulled his helmet back down over his face. Bending his knees he held his sword out at the ready position. “Attack me,” he commanded.
Glais nodded, lunging forward in compliance. This went on for several minutes, with Trevain easily batting away the boy’s sword. Varia began to glower at the clashing swords.
“Oh, for Sedna’s sake!” she muttered to herself.
Turning to her sharply, Glais threw his hands up in the air. “What? So do you think you can hit him?” he asked with frustration.
“Probably not,” she answered, swinging her feet at different rhythms. “Not if he doesn’t play fair.”
Trevain blinked. “I’m not playing fair? What do you mean, Varia?”
She shrugged noncommittally. “In a real battle, or even a real fencing match, your opponent is going to try to hit you too. When he strikes out, that’s when he leaves himself open and vulnerable to attack. If you don’t try to hit Glais, it’s just not fair. He doesn’t have any openings.”
“But that’s why it’s more challenging,” Trevain explained. “That’s why it’s good for training.”
“It isn’t any good for training!” Varia argued. “Because his opponent is going to be trying to hit him too, and if he focuses too much on attacking without defending himself, he won’t be able to do both at the same time!”
The men stared at her in surprise, as though processing this theory. Then they turned to stare at each other sheepishly.
Varia pushed herself off her chair and reached forward to grab Glais’ sword. She shoved him aside and pointed the sword at her father. “Hit me, Dad.”
Trevain hesitated. “Varia, you’re not wearing any armor…”
“Whatever. Just try to hit me,” she said impatiently.
Carefully, Trevain did as she asked, holding back most of his strength. He was startled when Varia dove forward, sidestepping his attack to drive the point of her wooden sword into his chest. She stepped back immediately, preparing herself in a ready position again.
“Again,” she said, crouching low and preparing to advance or retreat as necessary.
Trevain rubbed the spot on his chest she had struck, surprised at the amount of force and speed she had shown. Holding back a little less, he tried two tentative, testing strikes before aiming a blow at her side. He was startled when Varia not only blocked his each move, but was able to land a strike to the side of his face, hitting him in the cheekbone. He could feel the strength of her blow, even through his helmet. Varia stood frozen in place, her body poised with the striking thrust, holding the “blade” of the wooden sword lingering at her father’s face.
“Where did you learn to fight like that, kid?” Trevain said, obviously impressed.
“My mom taught me,” Varia explained as she lowered the sword, “but not for competitions or for the Olympics. She taught me to survive.” Turning to Glais, she handed him the training weapon. “Fight for real. Fight like every time, it’s your last time. Don’t treat it like a game with toys. We’re not children anymore.”
He nodded as he reached out to take the sword from her outstretched fist, resting his fingers on the hilt beside hers for a moment. “I will, Princess Varia.”
“Think about what it means underneath the rules and regulations of the international governing body of the sport. Think about what this used to be. Fighting to live,” she reminded him. “Use your anger and mix it with your skill. It’s a cruel world, and you either kill or be killed.”
“Jesus. You’re a serious kid, Varia,” Trevain said, shaking his head in disbelief.
“I know,” she answered, turning to look at Trevain grimly. “Glais doesn’t have a dad. You have to teach him as well as you can, as if he was your own son. He’s not a little girl!” She moved to grab her phone from the pile of mats and began walking away from the men. “Stop taking it easy on him, Father.” When she exited the gym and turned into the hallway, she saw her mother strolling alongside a man who was clad in an argyle-patterned sweater vest. She could tell from only his clothing and his glasses that he was the psychiatrist she had been hearing so much about recently.
Aazuria smiled when she noticed Varia, and moved in her direction. “This is my daughter,” she told the man. “Varia, I’d like you to meet Dr. Dylan Rosenberg.”
“How do you do,” Varia said politely.
“A pleasure to finally meet you, Princess,” the man said, bowing forward from the hip while saluting across his chest. “I was just helping your mother to make sense of her nightmare. Would you like to join us for some conversation?” When the young girl seemed reluctant, the doctor pressed a little further. “Queen Aazuria tells me that you were born in Antarctica. I’d love to hear a little about your impressions of the place.”
Varia’s facial muscles relaxed as she quickly nodded. She could never pass up an opportunity to reminisce about the peaceful place she had once considered home. Besides, she was curious to see if the psychiatrist would find anything that was glaringly wrong with her.
“Mother Melusina, I have done all that you asked of me,” Elandria professed. “I have learned to shatter substances comprised of every element. I have suffered and meditated to sharpen my mind. I have been a faithful pupil, and all that I ask is that you allow me to see my family again.”
The blind psychic descended deep into thought for a minute. “Is that really what you want, child?”
“Yes,” Elandria said without hesitation. “Please. I will continue doing everything you ask—I will be a loyal servant of Sedna forevermore, but I can’t go on without seeing Aazuria. I deserve that much.”
“You deserve?” Mother Melusina signed. “Why do you deserve special consideration? Because you were the daughter of the old king? Because you were the temporary wife to the new king?”
“No,” Elandria said with a grimace, lowering her body in a respectful bow. “I don’t claim any rights or privileges due to my royal lineage. I only feel that I deserve basic human kindness because I have always shown compassion to everyone around me. I have never hurt anyone.”
Mother Melusina raised her eyebrows, which curved above her deep green blindfold. “Self-esteem. What a quaint little trait for you to suddenly have.”
“I have always had self-esteem,” Elandria corrected, feeling daggers of anger pierce behind her eyes, “but I have never been prideful or arrogant. I do not think you should mistake humility for ignorance.”
“But you are ignorant, Thunderbird. You say you deserve something for never having hurt anyone. How can you fail to understand that everything I have taught you is to be employed in hurting others? The goddess Sedna was a good and gentle woman until her father left her for dead, cutting off her fingers as they held his boat, and sinking her to the bottom of the icy ocean. Only after this merciless cruelty did Sedna become the woman we now worship. Only then did she find her backbone, and so must you!”
“Being gentle does not mean that one does not have a backbone,” Elandria insisted.
“You have never had a backbone, little one,” the spiritual woman said mockingly. “I have known polyps and amoebae with stronger spines than that spindly, negligible thing running through your body.”
Elandria narrowed her eyes. “I do not see the reason to retaliate when someone verbally attacks me, as you have just done. I am not here for the sake of my vanity, or to defend my skeletal structure. I came to you so that you would pray to resurrect my sister. Now that she is alive, how can you forbid me from even seeing her? How can you deny me that?”
“Deny! Forbid! You should be grateful for my teachings, but instead you are thankless and wicked.” Mother Melusina moved forward, the fabric of her gown gyrating in the water around her. “We are your sisters now! I am your mother now! This is the holy sect of Sedna, and you need to be fully committed to Her will! How dare you insult me like this?”
“I do not mean any affront…”
“You! I had such high hopes for you. With a voice like yours, you could have been a true, pureblooded thunderbird, the likes of which the ocean has never seen in a thousand years. But you will never sing out in strength, for your soul is burdened with woe. You will never taste the valiant power of truth as your breath expels from your body, liberating us from the land. You cannot let go of your past life and move on to great heights. You are a failure.”
“That is fine,” Elandria responded slowly. “I never wanted to be great; that was never my desire or my destiny. I know that you have to be alone for many years and sacrifice everything you have known in order to achieve greatness. But even having done these things, I did not become great. I did not want it badly enough, and now I was forced to follow a path that was not correct for me. Being manipulated into your sisterhood, my heart could never truly forsake my family and give itself wholly to Sedna.”
“What are you saying?” Mother Melusina demanded, reaching out to grasp the back of Elandria’s neck, squeezing her spine between her fingers. “You are mine, and you shall not be disobedient.”
A tremor of fear filled the small woman as the pain shot through her head, and she briefly wondered if the priestess was going to kill her. Ignoring the pressure on her cervical vertebrae, she forced herself to respond calmly. “As my old friend Visola—whom I have not seen in over five years—would have said: I have been half-assing this.” Elandria inwardly acknowledged that Visola would have also said something a bit harsher, and it was on the tip of her tongue, but she restrained herself.
Mother Melusina seemed to understand her sentiment anyway. “Fine. I will give you what you seek, Daughter of Sedna. In order to get what you want, you must first determine whether you can handle getting what you want.”
The corners of Elandria’s eyes wrinkled in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I mean to say that you shall have your family returned to you. I will give you this and nothing more—you will soon learn to be careful what you wish for.”
Having been replaced by Visola in training Glais, Trevain left the poor boy to his fate and headed to the library. There, Dr. Rosenberg was directing a casual counseling session with Aazuria and Varia, focusing on the particulars of the young girl’s unusual upbringing. Leaning against the doorframe, he watched and listened to their conversation with keen interest.
“So, I’ve been reading your blog,” the doctor said, “and I was surprised by your username: MissAntarctica. Do you mean like in a beauty pageant?”
Varia laughed. “I don’t think there would be too much competition among girls born in Antarctica. There have only been a handful of people born there at research stations, maybe a dozen or so. Way more people have died there. But no, that’s my username because I actually do miss Antarctica.”
“What was your favorite part of growing up there?” the doctor asked. “As I understand, you were trapped in a submerged lake?”
“Yes. The lake was so beautiful,” Varia said nostalgically, “with the loveliest little creatures glowing in their shells. Even Mother didn’t know their names, so I made some up. We harvested them for food, and we fashioned jewelry and weapons out of their shells and bones. It was so much fun. I wished I could stay in the lake forever instead of the small cabin, but Mother said that breathing water consistently would slow my aging down too much. She wanted me to grow up faster.”
“Physically or mentally?” Dr. Rosenberg asked.
“Both,” Aazuria answered. “It was necessary.”
“Did you feel pressure to be an adult before you were ready, Princess Varia?” the doctor asked.
“No,” Varia answered. “I wanted to learn everything, and Mother told me all the stories she knew. There were new stories every day. I wanted to get physically larger as fast as possible, and have my body catch up with my mind—I wanted to be strong enough to go out and see the world!”
“What do you mean by strong enough?” the doctor asked.
Varia hesitated. “We nearly escaped once. But I had never seen the sunlight or felt the harsh cold air, and it was too much for me. I instantly got so sick and felt so weak and feverish, and Mother tried to carry me across hundreds of miles, but I was too heavy. I was five… the same age that Ivory and Ronan are right now,” she mused. “Those two would have been able to handle the trek, but I couldn’t, and it was my fault that we couldn’t escape.”
“No, darling,” Aazuria said, reaching out to grasp her hand. “You were amazing—you did your best. You were so strong.”
“So the pressures of that journey were entirely physical, Princess Varia? When you think back, you only remember your body aching?” the doctor asked.
Chewing on her lip, Varia turned in her chair to look over her shoulder at Trevain. “Actually, the most important part of that trip for me, was the day I learned my father’s name. I was so cold and tired that I couldn’t move or speak, and Mother thought I was dead. She was crying, and I was so frozen and sleepy that I couldn’t even manage to tell her I was alive. Can you imagine being so cold? I’ll never forget that. And Mom kept saying this word, over and over. I had no idea what it meant; I had never heard her say this word before. Trevain, Trevain, Trevain, she kept saying. I honestly think it was curiosity that kept me alive, because I really wanted to know what it meant. And then she told me that it was my real father’s name, and that she would tell me everything that she had kept hidden before. I had been waiting forever to know, and suddenly the world opened up for me.”
Varia glanced from Trevain to the doctor. “That was the day I grew up.”
Aazuria had pressed a hand to her forehead in distress at the memory. “Did I make a bad decision, doctor? Should I not have told her?”
“No, Queen Aazuria. You did the right thing. It seems like Varia valued the information.”
“I did,” Varia said, nodding. “I didn’t know who I was before that day. I didn’t know where I came from, or where I would ever end up going. It was easier to be strong after that.”
“Not many people have such a keen memory of events that happened when they were five years old,” the doctor commented. “You have a very sharp mind, Varia.”
“How can you forget the first time you’ve seen the sun after five years of darkness?” Varia smiled. “It was so bright it was painful. But even if I had died, it would have been worth dying for.”
Trevain moved across the room to sit beside his daughter. He reached out and took her hand, and looked down at the slender digits thoughtfully before lifting his chin to meet her eyes. “I didn’t know all this, kid.”
Varia nodded, turning away from him slightly.
“Why didn’t you know?” Dr. Rosenberg asked. “It seems like these are the most important formative events of your daughter’s life. Why shouldn’t you know what she’s been through?”
Surprised by this question, Trevain frowned. “I guess I was worried that it would bother her if I asked about it more. I felt like it was too painful a memory to casually bring up, because thinking or talking about it would be similar to going through it all over again.”
“Is it too painful for you to talk about, Varia?” the doctor asked. “Or you, Queen Aazuria?”
The young girl shook her head, and her mother did the same.
“It seems like your wife and daughter are comfortable with accepting the details of what happened to them,” Dr. Rosenberg observed, “which leads me to believe that it’s too painful for you to think about, King Trevain.”
Drawing a deep breath, Trevain looked at the doctor. “You’re right. I still feel enraged about it every day. Do you understand how powerless I was, and how much I hated myself? This man stole my wife and daughter from me. I thought they were dead. So I fantasized about killing him every night for ten years. I would lie awake and pray for the opportunity to reconcile my rage.” Trevain found that he was suddenly having difficulty breathing. “And after I learned that he was dead, the fantasies intensified. I wanted to kill him even more.”
The doctor nodded in acknowledgment. “So you admit that you have never ‘reconciled your rage.’ Do you think that’s healthy?”
“Maybe not, but how could I get over something like that? How can I get back what that man took from me? How can I ever get revenge on him?”
“Trevain,” the doctor said with a smile, “from what I understand, you shot his father in the head.”
“I did that to protect Aazuria,” he said stubbornly. “Not that it worked.”
“From what I hear, after discovering that Aazuria was dead, you went on a rampage and killed every member of the Zalcan family,” the doctor said.
“The emperor killed my wife,” Trevain said through gritted teeth. “So I killed his. Along with all of his children. And his nieces and nephews, and cousins.”
The doctor smiled. “You devastated that family. You crushed and conquered their empire. Why isn’t that enough reconciliation? Why can’t you just accept and appreciate that your wife and daughter have returned to your life, and focus on the future instead of being angry about the past?”
“Because I’m jealous,” Trevain admitted. He was quiet for a moment, allowing this confession to hover in the air. “I’m jealous that an important part of Aazuria and Varia’s life was taken from me like that. I was excluded from their world, and I can never share that with them.”
“Aha!” the doctor said, snapping his fingers. He began to scribble in his notebook so viciously that it was a wonder smoke did not rise from the burning pages. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Excluded from their world… can never share part of their lives… this is important!”
Trevain nodded, looking at his daughter sadly. “I’ll always be the outsider in this family.”
Varia shook her head violently. “Is that how you feel? It’s not true. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”
“You don’t even like me, Varia.”
“I—I do. I do love you, Father. I’ve just been upset,” Varia said softly. “I know it’s wrong, but I blamed you for everything. You couldn’t protect my mom from being abducted. You couldn’t save her from being killed by Emperor Zalcan. I know you worked really hard to try to bring her back to life, but I still blamed you. I thought, what’s the point of having a wonderful, nice father if he’s useless? He’ll never be able to protect me or anyone I love. I have to focus on making myself strong so I can protect myself.”
Trevain gulped and began speaking. “I’m so sorry, Varia—”
“No,” Aazuria interjected. “It was not his fault. He always tried his best.”
“I know!” Varia said angrily. “I just couldn’t help feeling that way. I’ve been so angry since you died, Mother. I’ve had difficulty caring about anything that happens anymore. Everyone else went on living just fine. And when you woke up, everyone else was so happy, as though you weren’t even gone for a day. But you were gone for so many days; I counted them. And each day changed me into a slightly more bitter and hateful person. That’s who I am now, and I can’t do anything about it. I’m sorry.”
“Why do you think you’re bitter and hateful, Varia?” the doctor asked.
Varia thought about it for a moment, looking around the room in confusion. “I had to force myself to accept that she was gone. That she was never coming back. That was the hardest thing I ever had to face. And then I was wrong. You would think that would give me hope, and make me believe in miracles, but it only makes me afraid. How can I force myself to accept that she’s here and that everything’s okay? Once I accept it, I will be wrong again. It will change again. So I float somewhere in the middle of every scenario. I try to be prepared for the possibility of anything; the possibility that I could lose both of my parents, and that I would have to be responsible for Adlivun. I keep the likelihood of that happening always in the back of my mind.”
“I see,” said Dr. Rosenberg, nodding in fascination. “Well, Varia—we will have to work on that. All those reservations and qualms, using your head to restrain your heart from being happy—you’re a lot like your mother.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Varia said graciously. “My mother is the best person I know, and I want to be more like her.”
“I’ve made so many mistakes, dearest,” Aazuria said softly. “You will be far better than me.”
“Well!” The doctor rubbed his hands together. “I think you’ll all be interested to know that I have made a breakthrough. I have a genius idea that will help you all to move forward and let the past rest behind you. Trevain has inspired me with his words.”
“What did I say?” Trevain asked curiously.
“It’s quite simple,” the doctor said cheerfully, the excitement radiating from his face in a visible glow. He held up a finger as if calling attention to the idea that was floating in the air around them like a tangible substance. “You want to share the part of your wife and daughter’s lives that was taken from you. You are jealous of being excluded, and so we must include you. We must show you what you missed, and you must feel what they felt. We must go there.”
Varia sat up in her chair very suddenly, leaning forward in wonder. “Do you mean to say—”
“Yes,” said the doctor triumphantly. “So that Queen Aazuria and Princess Varia can revisit this place and time in their history—so they can collect the part of themselves that they left in that tiny cabin at the bottom of the world—and so that they can finally close the door and move forward into the brave new world that awaits them, we must return to Antarctica. And I promise, Trevain, that when we leave, you will feel a bit more included in their lives.”
Aazuria’s usually calm face displayed how stricken she was at this concept. “You want us to go back…” As she repeated it out loud, trying to process the proposition, she knew at once that it was necessary. Just from the blazing, screaming alarms of terror that began sounding in her chest, she knew that she needed to face it one final time in order to conquer her dread. Turning to look at Trevain, she saw that his expression resembled the way she felt. She nodded. “Yes. I’ll go.”
“Excellent!” said the doctor gladly. “This will be superb. Difficult, but rewarding.”
Varia was sitting on the edge of her chair, gripping the cushions tightly with her fingers. “Can Glais come along?” she asked in a whisper. “Please.”
The doctor hesitated. “I’m not sure we should share this experience with too many people. I feel that your home in Antarctica was sacred for you Varia, and we should keep it special in allowing only your father to see it. It will be like letting him into a private room partitioned off in a corner of your mind. It should be a family affair.”
Trevain saw how his daughter’s face fell in disappointment, and he reached out to pat her knee reassuringly. “Hey, kiddo. Don’t worry; of course Glais can join us! He is family.”
Aazuria looked at Trevain thankfully. It was moments like these that she remembered how much she used to feel toward this man. He had never been stingy with his love, always eager to open his heart and home to a stranger. She had once been one of those strangers. If it were not for his devoted pressure, and his willingness to overcome all obstacles to be with her, they never would have become family. Despite all that had happened, she had never once regretted her decision to love him.