CW: violence, mentions of blood
The sun was setting above the training arena as Flora and Krystal made their way to the large, snow-covered stands. The sounds of chatting, grunting, and swords clashing together could be heard beyond the large stone archway. Flora and Krystal stood at the entrance, Krystal asking Flora once again for her opinion.
"And you are sure that I look presentable?" Krystal asked as she turned around, holding out her arms so that Flora could see the entirety of her outfit. Krystal wore an amethyst-colored dress with long sleeves, a high-cut neckline, and silver trimming that complimented her lavender hair that fell on her back in a long braid.
"Your Highness, I would never allow you to look anything other than presentable." Flora gave the princess a smile, "Now, we should get in there before His Highness leaves for the day. I have it on good authority from Saladin that Prince Helia has a meeting in an hour's time with his father and then he will be at dinner promptly at 7:30."
Krystal nodded and inhaled, the cold air rushing through her nostrils. She took a step through the stone entryway, Flora right behind her.
"Wait," Krystal spun on her feet to face her handmaiden, her face marred with worry, "what if he becomes cross that I followed him here?"
"You are the princess and you may go wherever you please." Flora replied but saw that by the expression on Krystal's face that it was not enough assurance to placate the young princess, "And if His Highness becomes angered, you may tell him that it was my idea and I will deal with it."
Krystal's face softened a bit before she took another calming breath.
"Alright," Krystal turned back around to face the arena, a look of determination on her face, "let's do this."
Krystal walked into the arena, Flora behind her, the sounds of the clanging of swords and talking men became louder and more distinct. When they had arrived into the arena, Krystal turned back to look at Flora, the worry once again returning to her face, wondering what it is she should do. Flora glanced up at the large, stone benches of the arena and Krystal returned the gesture with a thankful nod.
Climbing up the large stone steps, Flora looked out into the crowd, her eyes jumping from person to person. Some were engaged in mock sword fighting, others stood off to the sidelines and chatted about who knows what. Flora continued to watch as the men displayed an amount of uninhibited brute strength and aggression that she had not ever seen before. Is this how Azrael demanded his men train? They looked as if they were in battle with one another. In Linphea, training was much more about improving skill through inward reflection and non-combative training. Hademort was known to have one of the most feared militaries in the world and now Flora could see why.
"Flora, come sit."
Flora blinked rapidly as she was brought out of her trance. She blushed and went to sit beside Krystal on a section of the stone bench that had been cleared of any snow.
"You're blushing, Flora," Krystal whispered a light tease, taking in Flora's reddened complexion. "The men are quite intriguing, aren't they?"
She hadn't even noticed the men themselves as she was too busy focusing on their fighting. Looking back down at the arena, she noticed how visibly strong they were. Their shirts were loose, adding more freedom for their movements but their pants were tight, showing off their thick and strong legs. They were covered in sweat despite the cold and their panting was enough to send anyone who held any attraction towards the male sex into a lust-filled frenzy.
But all Flora could think of how sad they all seemed to look. None of them smiling when they trained unless they had bested their opponent. They grunted and lunged as if poised to kill, but they were only training. The "losers" of the match throwing down their swords and stomping away as if they had just lost everything. It was just training.
"Yes, Your Highness." Flora breathlessly replied.
Krystal giggled, noticing Flora's distracted gaze out towards the arena.
"I don't see, Prince Helia," Krystal remarked as she turned away from Flora and began scanning the training arena for the dark hair prince in the sea of dark hair and pale skin. It was like finding a needle in a haystack. "But I do see Captain Duncan and I dare say that he cannot keep his eyes off of you, my dear, Flora."
Flora's eyes quickly found the captain and noticed that he was staring right up at her, his mouth in a smirk and his topaz eyes staring directly at her. She quickly averted her eyes and continued to look for the prince. But she could still feel the eyes of the captain on her and it was...unsettling.
She scanned the arena, hoping to find the prince and distract Krystal with Helia. Flora looked to the west and saw a group of men chatting near the equipment but there was no sign of the prince. Flora looked to the east and saw men training with their swords but no prince.
"There he is!" Krystal exclaimed, pointing to a small group of men near the center of the arena. If the prince had been a snake, he would have bit both of them.
Flora looked to the center of the arena and she looked onto the prince. He was standing at the edge of the small group of men practicing their hand-to-hand combat. Flora watched as Helia wrapped a long strip of fabric around his knuckles, down his hands, and to his wrists. His eyes were furrowed in concentration as he wrapped his hands, his brow covered in sweat despite the cold. Flora couldn't help it as her eyes traveled down his face to his pale chest, exposed underneath the loose and tan shirt that he had been wearing like the other men in the arena. There was nothing that set him apart from the other men. Was this by design?
A man next to Helia had tapped him on the shoulder, distracting him from his task, and gave a short bow before pointing up to the stands. Flora watched, unmoving as Helia's deep blue eyes met hers before they looked away and at Krystal. He grimaced before turning back to the man who got his attention and said something to him that must have not been great as the other man quietly walked away, the smile gone from his face. Helia looked up again and once again, blue met green as he stared up at Flora, his eyes cold.
"I think that the prince is mad at us." Krystal sighed as she looked over to Flora.
Flora's eyes were still connected to the prince's icy glare, like she was frozen in place. She was the first to look away, turning her attention to the princess on her left.
"No, Your Highness," Flora placed a hand on Krystal's knee, "I am afraid that he is just mad at me."
"Oh..." Krystal cast her eyes down to her feet.
"Don't fret, Your Highness," Flora gave Krystal a soft smile, "better me than you. His Highness and I are not to be married so I am glad to be the target for all of his anger. What else is a guardian good for?"
Krystal gave a small humph before turning back around and facing the prince, looking on as he continued to wrap her hands. She placed her elbow on her knee and her chin on her palm, bored by looking out at the training session. Flora looked at the young princess and let out a small giggle.
"Oh don't laugh, Flora." Krystal rolled her eyes, "Watching sweaty men fight, while exhilarating, is not the most entertaining pastime."
"I agree, Your Highness," Flora smiled as she turned her attention back to the arena of men, "but if His Highness won't come to you, you will come to him. Maybe he will see how bored you are and then will do something for your enjoyment."
Krystal scoffed and her mouth formed into a pout, "I doubt that will happen. He has been nothing but cold to me the entire time that I have been here."
"Give it time, princess. He will come around." Flora reassured as she looked at Helia, his hands now completely wrapped in strips of fabric and his gaze now on the man who was to be his opponent.
"Well, I don't have forever," Krystal whined, "we are to be wed in a year's time and I don't want a husband who hates me."
"Nobody could hate you, princess."
"I at least want a husband who does more than tolerates me. I want someone who loves me and...and...and..."
"I know, Your Highness. Please just give it time. It has only been a month. And you know that I will do everything in my power to make sure that you are as happy as can be. Not just because I am your guardian and handmaiden but because you are the one person I care about most in this world."
Krystal turned her attention away from the surly prince in the arena and to her friend, giving her a small smile as a silent thank you for her kind and heartfelt words.
But all warm and tender moments had to come to an end.
"Good afternoon, Your Highness."
Flora and Krystal's mouths both shut when they heard a deep and smooth voice speak from behind them. The voice was as icy as the air and sent a shiver down both of their spines. Krystal was the first to turn around, coming face to face with King Azrael.
"Good afternoon, Your Majesty," Krystal replied with a nervous smile.
King Azrael looked down at Krystal with a discerning gaze before his eyes momentarily shifted to Flora then back to Krystal.
"Come to see my men train?" King Azrael asked as cordially as he could.
"Yes, Your Majesty. Hademort is rumored to have one of the world's greatest militaries and-"
King Azrael cut off Krystal, his head snapping over to Flora.
"Have you seen Captain Duncan?" King Azrael motioned towards the young captain who had been engaged in a sword fight with another trainer, "He is the most skilled man in my guard. He fights like ten men in one."
Flora looked towards the young captain. His sweat fell down his face, his golden eyes fierce and fiery, a stark contrast to the cold features of all of the other men. He grunted as he swung at his opponent, his swings relentless and his movements deliberate. His jaw was clenched and Flora observed again that even though the men had just been training, Duncan looked as if he were out for blood.
"He is quite the swordsman, Your Majesty," Flora stated, her voice devoid of emotion, not wanting to give the king a reason to continue the conversation about the captain.
"Only thirty years of age and a captain. So young, yet so accomplished. Don't you agree, girl?"
"Yes, Your Majesty." Flora simply replied.
"He has one of the largest estates in Hademort, yet still spends his days and nights here at the palace. One might think that if he had someone to share his fortune with that he might be more...encouraged to spend his time at the estate that he worked so hard to earn."
Flora remained silent, not sure how to respond. What did the king mean when he rambled on? Flora could only assume but Flora knew that assuming was a dangerous game.
"Thirty years old and the captain still has no wife?" Krystal asked, Flora thankful for her princess's naivete.
The king ignored the young princess, his eyes still trained on the back of Flora's head.
Flora watched as Duncan took down his opponent with a strong slice across the arm, crimson blood running down and staining the opponent's shirt. Flora winced at the injury, hating the brutal "training" practices. Gold once again met green as Duncan's eyes connected with hers, smug and prideful. His chest rose and fell with every huff. He lifted his hand to wipe his forehead before pushing back his black hair from his face. The opponent was led from the sparring ground and taken to a bench where a man began to bandage his wound.
Duncan gave Flora a wink, causing her to quickly look away. He wiped the bloody sword on a large rag before shoving both to a boy, no older than ten years old. Flora frowned and her heart dropped to her stomach as she saw Duncan making his way towards the stone benches of the arena and up the steps to where she, the princess, and the king were seated.
Flora did her best to avoid eye contact as he approached.
"Your Majesty." Duncan bowed to the king before turning towards Krystal. He picked up her hand and gave the back a soft kiss as he bowed, "Your Highness."
It was as if Flora forgot how to breathe when Duncan turned towards her and gave her another smug smile but he did not greet her.
"Excellent show once again, Captain." Azrael boastfully clapped Duncan on his back, proud of the brute force that he had exhibited moments ago in the sparring ring.
"Ah, just warm up, Your Majesty. I'm eager to get back to the fields where I belong. Fighting for king and country."
"Very good, my boy."
Flora thought back to the prince and what Saladin had told her earlier that day. How could the king so easily praise Duncan when he treated his own son, the Crown Prince of Hademort, so poorly? Flora wanted to look back at the prince but doing so would be disrespectful to the king and she did not want to draw attention to the prince in fear that the king would have something degrading to say.
The two men continued to swap compliments, Flora and Krystal just looking on at the exchange, both too uncomfortable to say anything. What would they say? It wasn't until she felt an arm snake around her waist did Flora's consciousness return to the conversation.
His hold felt cold and she shivered under his touch, but not in a good way. Flora glanced down to see that Duncan had wrapped an arm around her midsection, pulling her closer to him. She looked up at his face, still trained onto the king's while in continued conversation. How could he hold her so casually? Why was he holding her? Why did she want to be anywhere but there?
Flora looked to Krystal, but her gaze was on the men in front of her, one of them being a man who had wrapped his arm around Flora. Once again, she wanted the fur cloak around her shoulders to swallow her whole. Out of the captain's embrace and out of Hademort. But that would never happen.
"Your Highness," Flora called out, interrupting the conversation between the two men. She stepped out of Duncan's hold to move closer to the young and oblivious princess, "it is time to get you ready for supper."
"Very well, Flora." Krystal looked at the king and Duncan with a smile, "Will you two be joining us?"
The king looked at Krystal and then to Flora, "No, the captain and I will be dining alone tonight to talk strategy and about the future."
"You will be sorely missed, Your Majesty." Krystal gave him a polite smile to a polite response. However, both Flora and Krystal were glad that neither the king nor the captain would be in attendance. Krystal, because that meant she might be able to dine alone with Helia. Flora, because it meant that she would not be subject to the embarrassment that she endured on their first night in Hademort.
"Yes," Azrael's dark eyes met Flora's, "we will all have to dine together sometime."
Another chill ran up Flora's spine, once again, not from the cold. She followed behind Krystal out of the arena where an eruption of cheers could be heard as they passed through the stone archway.
Helia stood near the center of the arena, wrapping strips of cloth around his hands as he waited for his next opponent to be ready and for the sparring floor to be cleared of the duo practicing their hand-to-hand combat. Helia regarded himself as an exceptional swordsman but he had been told by trainers that he had needed more practice in hand-to-hand combat. That he was too restrained and needed to "let go", whatever that meant. In the meantime, he would practice his skills and whatever needed letting go would be released when the time came.
His eyes followed the strips of white cloth as he wound it around his pale hand. He became lost in the hypnotic motion, not paying attention to the sights and sounds around him. At his age, the sounds of chatter, grunting, and the loud curses of men as they were injured became mindless background noise. All he could focus on was the tape. Being better. Being the best.
A tap on his shoulder distracted him from his task. Was his opponent ready? When he turned to look at who tapped him, the man next to him pointed up to the stands.
"It looks like the princess came for a show, Your Highness." the man snickered, "You best not disappoint her."
Helia followed the angle of the man's outstretched arm and hand, following the line made by his index finger to the two women sitting on the large stone spectator benches of the training arena. Helia's eyes first met green eyes surrounded by tan skin, her soft gaze widening, knowing that their eyes had met.
What was she doing here? Why did she bring the princess? Or had the princess dragged her along? Either way, she should have learned to heed the command that he had given her on the first night in the kitchen. He would call on the princess when needed and appropriate. Training did not require the princess's attention or presence.
Helia broke eye contact with the young handmaiden and quickly shifted his eyes to the princess who looked at him with hope. Hoping that he would what? Wave to her? Run up to her and abandon his training? Not likely.
He looked back to the man who had pointed out the two women, "If you don't leave my side in the next ten seconds, I will have you gutted like a squealing hog."
The man quickly bowed and scurried off to where he came, leaving Helia to return to his task in peace. However, he couldn't help but steal one last glance at the tan woman dressed in a gown the color of the sky sitting high on a stone bench.
Looking back down at his hands, he resumed the wrapping of his hands, trying as hard as he could not to pay attention to the women on the benches. He flexed his hands under the wrappings, loosening the cloth so that it was snug yet comfortable as he formed a fist. Helia looked to the sparring area to find that it had been cleared. Taking a deep breath, he made his way to the center where his opponent was waiting for him.
His opponent bowed to Helia and Helia gave him a respectful bow in return. Helia looked at his opponent, taking in the features of the man in front of him. He looked to be the same build, slightly younger than Helia from the look on his face. He didn't look scared but he didn't look confident either. Had the man not seen Helia as a threat? Helia's gaze changed from one of indifference to a glare, feeling the disrespect of the man who had dared not see him as a threat. He would show him.
Helia walked to the western side of the large sparring circle, the other man heading towards the east. Helia could feel the heat of the setting sun on his back as he rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck from side to side. His eyes still fixed on his opponent, remembering his father's words of not breaking eye contact, to not appear weak. He could not show the other men in the arena that he was weak. How were they supposed to respect him as a prince, as the next great commander of all the armed forces of Hademort when he became king if they all saw him as weak?
The hand-to-hand combat trainer came to the middle of the arena but Helia stared down his opponent. The trainer looked to both the opponent and Helia, giving the prince a deep bow.
"Five minutes. The match is over when the time is up or when there is a knockout. You both know where the medic is-" the trainer was interrupted by a loud yell of pain from the sword training arena. Helia looked over to see that Duncan had wounded his opponent and now wore a smug smile. Duncan looked up to the stone benches and Helia followed the captain's eyes, his gaze now landing on the woman in blue. Helia clenched his jaw as he realized that Duncan was smiling at Flora; he wanted to punch the grin off of the captain's face. He glanced up further to see his father, talking to the two women in the stands. What the Hell was he doing?
"Your Highness!" someone from the sidelines exclaimed, drawing Helia's attention back to the training. The trainer in the middle was gone and his opponent was now heading towards Helia.
Helia blinked and shook his head, his mind fully returning to the spar. He only needed five minutes. Five minutes and he would be done. Five minutes and he could go back inside and leave the princess, his father, the captain, and the handmaiden.
The opponent was the first to swing and Helia quickly dodged the punch. Helia never was the first to swing, his father hated that about him but there was something about throwing the first punch that did not sit well with Helia. His father and his trainer kept reminding him that it was a show of weakness, allowing the opponent the chance of the first blow. Allowing his opponent, the enemy, the first chance to get the upper hand. However, if there was one thing that stuck with Helia it was that even if he were not the first person to throw a punch, he better be the last one.
Helia cocked his arm back and landed a punch right in his opponent's shoulder, doing his best to avoid the face. Helia didn't want the match to end in a knockout, one less soldier who was out for recovery was one less soldier who was training. The military of Hademort was only as strong as its weakest link. Helia would not be the cause of that weak link.
His opponent staggered back but quickly regained his balance. Helia glanced up to the benches as if a force pulled his eyes up there. He grimaced when he saw Duncan standing next to his father, the two men laughing and Krystal smiling before them. Helia was used to his father only smiling when Duncan was around. Calling him "my boy" and constantly reminding Helia how much of a disappointment he was in comparison to the young captain.
Helia turned back to his opponent and charged forward, using the anger for his father and landing a punch to his opponent's stomach. The man hunched over, his arm over his abdomen as he took in the blow. His breathing was shallow as he did his best to regain a normal breathing pattern. Helia did not wait before landing another punch on the man's chest, knocking him back up to an upright position.
Blue eyes once again looked up to the benches and all he saw was red.
Duncan's pale arm wrapped around her slender waist. His hand on her hip, pulling her closer to him. That stupid fucking smile on his face as he held the princess's handmaiden in his arms.
Helia turned back to his opponent. Red marring his vision and anger pounding in his head. What the Hell was wrong with him? This handmaiden, this woman, this nobody causing him so much anger, an anger that he had never felt before.
Pale fist met a pale face when Helia landed an angry punch on his opponent's face. Blood spattered from the man's lip and onto Helia's hand and the cold ground under their feet. Helia landed another punch, and another, and another. It was like he had gone mad, blinded by rage. All he could see was Duncan's arm around Flora's waist, holding her close. It had made him even angrier that he cared about the action of the cocky captain at all.
The opponent fell to the ground, his face bloodied and his eyes glazed over. Helia crouched down and grabbed his opponent by the collar of his shirt and continued to deliver blow after blow. A small crowd had gathered around the sparring pair but Helia did not notice. It did not register to Helia that his opponent had stopped responding, his eyes shut and his breaths shallow as Helia kept punching with full force. It was like Helia's fist had a mind of its own. It was like Helia was a man possessed by anger. Red, the smell of blood, and the sound of his own labored breathing were the only things that Helia could sense as his body kept moving.
Cheers began to erupt in the arena as more men gathered around the fight and took in Helia's assault on the man. Helia wanted to stop, needed to stop, but he couldn't. He couldn't stop.
"Your Highness!" Helia heard the trainer call out to him. Helia's fist in the air but was caught by the trainer, pulling Helia off of his bloodied opponent.
Helia looked down at the unconscious opponent. God, he hoped that the man was just unconscious. Helia's eyes never left the man as a group of medical staff came onto the sparring ground and assessed the man. His stomach twisted and turned as he looked at the man, hoping that he would be fine. That he wasn't...
"Your hand, Your Highness." a medic came over to Helia and made a motion to grab his hand. The sound of cheers and the sight of his bloody and bruised opponent, knowing that Helia had been the cause had become overwhelming. He had to get out, his hand be damned. Helia turned on his heels and rushed out of the arena and back into the castle, unaware of the black eyes staring down at the prince.
"Well well well," Azrael smirked as he glanced over to Duncan, "it looks like the dog can bite after all."