|Sven Bjornden Ellestad | Prince of Norway | 28| Trainer | Enhanced Vision|
Next in line to the Norwegian throne--the Viking prince. Thrives on alcohol, cigarettes, books, and solitude. Pleased to meet you.
She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. Meditation was stupid. She’d never had to meditate before. Rosalie was strong. She was. She didn’t need oceans or deep breathing because she was in control. She could make people believe anything she wanted. She could make them want to bark like dogs or she could make them believe they actually were animals. She was powerful.
She was lying to herself.
She knew that she was slipping. Her grasp on her power wasn’t as all-encompassing as it had been five months ago. She was losing the little things: the ability to subtly influence someone’s decisions instead of outright controlling them. Maybe because Rosalie wasn’t subtle herself. She was passionate and outspoken. If she had a problem with someone, she sure as hell let them know. And that translated to her power.
When are you going to give up? You need his help.
“Oh, right,” she snapped. “You don’t need training because your power is perfect, right?” She didn’t think he’d told her what he could do, but she didn’t doubt it was something weak. Something inferior to give him such a superiority complex. She sneered. “I don’t torture people. I tell stupid people what to do to make the world a little bit easier.” And she believed that. Truly, if Rosalie could just influence everyone around her, bend the world to exactly the way she wanted it, she would be so much happier. Mother: stop hitting me. Stop hurting me, stop using me. Tristan: start loving me.
She scowled. Didn’t he realize she could kill him with a thought? Never even touch him. Just plant the seeds of an idea in his head. Or better yet, make him kill someone else. Ruin his life. Slowly, slowly influence his mind. Slowly drive him insane, warp his mind with twisted images. Make him believe anything she wanted, just because she could. And she would do it, as well, with barely a second’s thought. Except he seemed to know. Back in the gardens, she’d been ready to use her power and he’d flicked her straight in the face. Maybe that was his power. She wondered exactly what kind of power that was.
“I was not self-schooled,” she bit out, clenching her fists. She wanted to hurt him, but there was that ingrained need to please her mother, to do everything she wanted. That scared little girl she’d once been, desperate for any scrap of affection she could claw from the woman who was supposed to love her. “I had a trainer back in America. She was good, actually. She helped.” She didn’t have me sat around doing hippie shit.
It was getting incredibly difficult at this point, but Sven managed not to roll his eyes at Rosalie. Not that he was annoyed, but simply because he was incredibly tired.I wish she would just keep her mouth shut.He thought to himself. It was ridiculous to think she would ever realize it, Rosalie being the selfish and outspoken girl that she was, but it was as tiring and bothering for Sven just as it was for her. Sven wished she would just stop complaining, stop asking questions, stop making it such a personal vendetta between him and her—juststopso that they could both get this over with and get on with their lives. He knew there was something,something deep, dark and tortured lying beneath all those shades and layers of hate and venom that Rosalie wore over herself, he had genuinely wanted to help her, but it was impossible to ask of him not to at least feel a little apprehensive. He knew Rosalie realized why she needed his help, but she still couldn’t accept it and it was becoming a nuisance. So he kept at the pace, hoping she would burn out soon.
“Yes, my power is perfect, thank you.” he said, ending with a high note and bowing his head in a polite and sarcastic gesture of thanks. She had no idea what he could do—and it was best if they kept it that way. He needed that advantage. If Sven let his guard down for just a second he would be completely hopeless against Rosalie. He needed to keep his eyes out on her all the time.
“Well, I won’t say anything about your previous training or your previous trainer, but obviously it was insufficient—so let’s just say you’re moving on to the next level.” Sven had completely used up the cigarette, and he was trying hard not to push it by taking out another one completely. It was going to be a long, long day. He needed to harden the premise.
“Anyway, Rosalie—here’s the thing, and this is what we need to establish for as long as yourmotherrequires me to look over your training, which is a fact neither you nor I can change—” he paused, reading the contents of the Vanderbilt woman’s letter again in his head.
“Basically,I do not careat all what you think about training, what you think about me. You can go to whatever friends you have to complain about that, I don’t mind. Just that you take that garbage out elsewhere—this is only business, remember that, nothing personal and since I’m the only adult between the two of us, I’m the only one who’s kept it in mind so far. So I’m reminding you. So, keep your mouth shut because everything that comes out of it is useless and irrelevant. Sit back down and do as I say.”
It had sounded more threatening and Sven felt he might have lost his cool a little bit, but it had the effect he wanted. The last time he had been like this was either with his brother or his sister, but this wasn’t nearly as bad as the fits he had with his siblings—not even close, and for that he was thankful. He meditated on his own for a few seconds, clearing his mind and controlling his breathing.
It was too early to be doing this, and Sven wanted nothing more than to go back to his book.