Routine was important to a child's development, Felecia Wentworth believed. Especially to a little girl that would someday rule an entire race. Therefore, Aideen Wentworth lived and breathed by the pace of the clocks all around the house and the one on her wrist.

It started at six in the morning, when her alarm clock went off. She sprang out of bed like a tightly-wound coil, eager to turn off the alarm. Then it was time to throw open the door to her wardrobe and pull out an outfit that had been prepared on Sunday, after doing the laundry. 

She took a shower, making sure to wash out her long blonde hair that curled at the ends, and styled it in a way that left the locks flowing but did not allow loose strands to drift into her face. It was important that she look good. A leader needed to command charisma from the way she looked and bore herself in public.

Aideen then stood in front of a full-length mirror, adjusting the predetermined outfit till every inch of fabric was in the most flattering location. Then she checked the watch on her wrist. She had plenty of time for hobbies now.

First, she went to the bathroom and filled up her small watering can with what she needed for the plants, and approached her windowsill.

"Hello, Frances," she said, addressing the first, most leafy of the plant. "Oh, Barry, don't try to escape your pot like that. Phyllis, I don't think you need quite so much water, and neither do you, Ronald."

Addressing each plant one-by-one as she went through the motions of caring for them, she felt a little more relaxed. For some reason, she felt more tense, the morning after her birthday.

Aideen wasn't one for introspection, so she had no idea as to what exactly these feelings were supposed to be, or why they existed at all. But she knew that something was not right, that something had disrupted her perfectly-planned out life.

She checked her watch again. Twenty minutes until she was expected at the breakfast nook.

She set down the water can and care supplies, taking a moment to make sure that corner was picturesque, before sitting down at her desk and retrieving the stationary and pen she used for this purpose. The words flowed from her mind straight to the paper effortlessly, her handwriting neat, with a few calligraphic techniques added in as her own personal flourish.

Besides, the recipients would never read them. 

Dear Mom and Dad,

My seventeenth birthday was yesterday. I transformed at seven-thirty in the morning. Grandmother was a little upset, as it did interrupt our routine, but I know she just wants to make sure I grow up with the proper boundaries and be the perfect girl. I just wish I could be perfect enough for her, and for our people. I need to be able to lead them. 

I know you were close, Dad. I wish I could live up to your shadow, that I could do as well as you did. Everyone said you two would have made great Pendragons. Just the accident happened, and suddenly our people were left without hope again.

There are two more girls, if I fail. Their names are Kira and Elodie. I've only just met them, but they go to my school and seem nice. They had no idea, though, about any of this. I wonder why their families didn't tell them.

At least the Council of Crowns has options, now. They can have a real Trial by Fire for me, and I assure you, I will do my best to serve my people. If they are the best, then I will stand aside for them. But I believe I still am. I have trained my entire life for this. I cannot disappoint. I know our ways and how to rule.

How can anyone compete with that?

I don't mean to be arrogant, but I know the truth when I'm looking it in the face. I just wish you could see it. There isn't a day I don't miss you or Mom, even if I never really knew you. I know we would have been a happy, loving family. I hate that it was taken from us. 

I'll write again tomorrow, as I have every day since I was twelve. Thank you for listening to me, even if these are letters you'll never read. It makes me feel closer to you— both of you. Whatever comes after this life, I hope these letters make you smile.

Love,

Aideen

Aideen blew on the paper to dry the ink, and then folded it, adding it to the basket of letters underneath her desk. She would have to archive them on her bookshelf later that weekend. But for now, she needed to get downstairs, where her grandmother would be waiting with breakfast and a warm plate. 

Right as Aideen sat down in the breakfast nook, Felecia arrived, carrying a platter of the breakfast dishes and tea, with a stack on envelopes at the corner.

"What are those for?" Aideen asked as she stood to help her grandmother arrange everything.

"I want you to give those to Elodie and Kira," Felecia said. "They're invitations to come here for their training."

"Training?" Aideen set down the tea and began pouring, as she knew what Felecia preferred.

"Be careful dear," Felecia said, noticing how close Aideen came to a spill. "Yes, the Council of Crowns asked me to train your friends in the same arts I will now train you in."

"They're not my friends." Even Aideen was surprised by how sullen her voice was. "Do they have to come here?"

Felecia glared at her reproachfully. "I don't believe I like that tone, young lady. What's gotten into you?"

"I don't know." Aideen shrugged.

"Don't do that, it's very pedestrian," Felecia said, snatching the teapot away from Aideen. "They're going to be trained and that is final. I will do my duty to our people, and part of your duty is conceding defeat if there is a girl that proves herself more worthy than you. They must have a fighting chance, Aideen, for they have not the privileges you've had."

"You're right." Aideen didn't know why she found the words so hard to say. "I'm sorry, Grandmother, I don't know what got into me."

"Eat your breakfast." Felecia's voice was more gentle, amused by her granddaughter. "We all have our rough mornings don't we? Unfortunately, yesterday changes everything. I know you don't care for change, but we must all go through it."

Aideen wanted to protest that routine was all Felecia's idea, that she didn't want such a rigid life— but there was no use arguing with her. Her grandmother's mind was made up, and Aideen was to respect authority, as someday she would be the authority. 

They ate their breakfast in silence, as Aideen wondered why she was suddenly so unhappy.