my kingdom come

Mother's anger diminishes in the presence of Nymeria, face falling slack after her surprise subsides into subtle anger— I know well that I am going to be punished for doing this, for requesting such a thing. It will be a huge feat for Mother to agree to these terms, knowing full well that she could easily deny me such priceless liberties and drag me into the forest (where who knows what will happen). I worry my lip (a habit now, from both nervousness and enticing thoughts) as I hear the false motherly tones fall from Mother's lips— she said she was worried about me. I want to look at her and laugh unsteadily, to tell her how wrong that is, how sick it makes me to hear her say such grossly untrue things. But my lips remain shut and my expression remains neutral (seems to run in the family), eyes flickering unsteadily to Nymeria to answer the fleeting question that lingers between us (always). In rare occurrences Mother may show kindness and gratitude towards my success (only when I please her with repeating what she's taught me, or when I showed her the magic I inherited)— it brings conflicting feelings to the table, where I both fear and appreciate her, hate and love her, I'm torn.

By refusing to slide beside my own dam I enrage her, brows twitching in irritation (she's mad, she hates this)— the satisfaction of knowing she cannot do anything to me (not yet) makes me feel powerful, like I am above her and she will struggle until Nymeria has gone, when my invulnerability escapes my grasp and I turn once again to the hard hitting hooves of my mother. I best cherish it while I can. We stand together against the most prominent force of evil (currently, there are more to come so stay tuned!), a clash of child (and aunt) vs Mother

Mother raises a brindled brow at Nymeria's request, my eyes glittering with a hopefulness I've never before experienced. With each passing second my childish eagerness gets in the way of my focus, every possible body part twitching with the possibilities to come (will she agree?). Finally the wait is over, Mother's lips moving soundlessly for a second before producing sound— the words are callous and unpleasant, as if she's agreeing against her will, like she's stabbing herself in the foot or some weird and obscure shit like that. "Fine—" There's a pause, her tongue carrying the last syllable for one second too long as she goes on, "you'll need to prove to me that you're worthy." The stunned silence (from me) carries over for several seconds as I turn to Nymeria, everything but the blood rushing through my ears and pulsating heart quiet.

It's not that I think Nymeria isn't capable, I just fear that she and Mother will go at one another's throats— that this fight will be less of a fight to determine worthiness and more of a personal conflict to see who was best. Mother would not give up, and this I am sure of— I know she will push and push even if her ass is handed to her, and the dread of seeing Nymeria get hurt by the perpetually shorter mare frightens me, but also of Nymeria hurting Mother severely (as wonderful as it is that I'm being fought over, these aren't exactly the contenders I was thinking of).

"Talk."