Amaya was fuming. Corvus had reported that Gren was seen going into a florist's shop, purchasing flowers, and happily smelling them as he walked out. Immediately, she knew they were for his girlfriend, who's name she hadn't found in the directory, meaning she must have been someone from the town. Either that or a servant in the kitchen. She racked her brain, thinking of all the eligible young women that were fighting for Gren's heart named Antionette. She knew none.
Katolis was a big kingdom, but Amaya knew Gren was mostly stationed inside the palace walls or on missions with her and her team, so he didn't have the ability to interact with the townspeople while on duty. Where then could he have met Antionette? What was wrong with her that he needed to hide her? She rolled her eyes. Gren was perfect, so naturally he'd have to have a perfect girlfriend as well. Nothing would be wrong with her. She'd be feminine, delicate, would laugh at his jokes and have perfectly clean nails. Her shoulders would be slender and smooth, her neck long and graceful. She wouldn't have a scar under her eye and wouldn't wear armor almost every hour of the day. She wouldn't have cropped hair or prominent muscles in her biceps, she'd be fragile and elegant with lean limbs and long, golden hair. She wouldn't be Amaya.
Before she could change her mind, Amaya stomped to her quarters to change into workout clothes. After the day's events of Corvus delivering his depressing news and Gren abandoning Amaya for his new girlfriend, she was ready to take out her anger on something.
Spar with me. Amaya stood outside Gren's room, signing to his head that was poked out of the door. She couldn't see inside of his room, but it smelled earthy, like he did. Maybe it was Antionette's perfume.
I'm a little busy right now?, he tried, shrugging his shoulders. Besides, you know I'm not much of a fighter. This was true, he preferred being on the sidelines instead of the front lines, but Amaya wanted to fight with him.
As your general, I order you to spar with me. Before waiting for an answer, she stormed off towards the courtyard, stretching her neck as she ploughed through the hallways of the barracks. She was already dressed for sparring, in her white tank top and black breeches, wrists and knuckles wrapped with tape, ready to punch.
The courtyard was empty when she arrived, as it should've been, and only a few moments later her best secret-keeping friend arrived. He was in a dark green t-shirt with bottoms that matched her own. He was working on wrapping his own knuckles and Amaya couldn't help but notice how effortlessly handsome he looked as his biceps flexed slightly as he prepared himself to fight her.
Is everything okay?, he asked, and he looked genuinely concerned for her mental state. She hated how much he cared about her when he had the fearlessness to hide his own girlfriend behind her back. All those years of training and growing together for nothing? Did their friendship mean nothing to him? Did all those stolen moments of foreign emotions and subtle flirting mean nothing to him?
Just come at me, she glared at him, and soon, fighting-Gren appeared with steeled eyes and a tensed body ready to direct and take blows.
Wordlessly, he approached, forearm shielding his face while the other hand curled into a fist. She blocked him, pushing his wrist down with her own forearm before swiveling behind him and going in for a roundhouse kick. He caught her ankle, twisting it in his hold and catching her off-guard all while having the audacity to smirk at her predicament. She sliced into the crook of his elbow with one hand as the other aimed for his gut. When she contacted his stomach, she almost stopped fighting him to simply blush when she felt how muscular it was. Amaya didn't have time to ponder his abdominal muscles as he released her foot in favor of aiming directly for her face. Lost in her thoughts, he made impact with her cheekbone and she grit her teeth.
By this point, a small crowd of off-duty soldiers had gathered to watch the scene. They were used to watching Amaya fight with the other troops, but today she seemed particularly mean with her movements. They knew she never went easy on her best friend, but something was off with the glare in her eyes and tightness of her fists. It also didn't go unnoticed that Gren was easily getting punches in when often he wasn't able to because of Amaya's outstanding defense.
Another punch was landed to her ribs, and she doubled over in pain before kicking behind his knees a moment later. He dropped to the stone of the courtyard. She was on top of him in a second, restricting his movement with her legs in an elaborate pin to the ground. He struggled for an instant, before raising his hands above his head. She thought he was going to tap out, but instead he signed, what's gotten into you? Are you okay? After catching her off guard, he reversed their positions.
Frustrated, Amaya signed as fast as she could so no one else would pick up on their conversation. Although nearly everyone in the royal forces had learned sign language, none could read as fast as Gren. You're keeping secrets from me! You and your secret girlfriend – his grip loosened and she took full advantage, not bothering to complete her sentence.
Gren stopped struggling completely. Girlfriend? He sounded panicked.
Amaya's eyes darted to the crowd gathered. How fast could she sign a name so only Gren would pick up on it? Antoinette, she hissed.
His face paled before he broke out into a wide grin. She could feel him laughing. Antoinette's just… he paused, a friend?
Him being skeptical didn't improve her opinion on his 'friend'. Her chokehold on him tightened and he squirmed, tapping out in record time. She was fooling with him now, catching her breath from their tussle but still managing to smile. So he was still hiding things. At least she burned a little energy while trying to wriggle some information out of him.
Since the show had finished, the observing troops returned to their posts, conversing with one another about what they had seen. The flashes of sign language they caught weren't enough to create a full comprehensive understanding of the context and situation, but they discussed it amongst themselves nonetheless.
Gren stood, brushing the dirt and dust off his tunic and pants that had gathered in their tussle. He rubbed his throat tenderly, and Amaya almost felt bad, but realized he had dealt with worse, so he was fine.
Thanks, she said, breathless but relieved. It had been nice to have a civil fight with her friend. Her handsome, dorky, secret-keeping friend. See you in the mess hall.
Later, instead of avoiding her for supper, Gren had actually managed to sit in his normal spot across from her, though arriving late. He beamed in his usual fashion, looking childish but endearing.
She was in trouble.
Amaya squinted at the strong hands that held his utensils. He shoved a hearty bite of baked potato past his lips. You have dirt under your nails. Normally he kept them pretty clean, and even after their tussle his hands weren't dirty.
Hurriedly, Gren dropped his utensils, a blob of corn splattering onto the bench. Oh do I? He laughed awkwardly, eyes darting left and right. I was, uh, sweeping.
Sweeping. She raised an eyebrow but continued to eat her own meal. His excuses were getting increasingly more lame as she tried to figure out his mystery. Must've been pretty intense.
You know how sweeping is. To avoid more conversation, he busied his hands with cutting the pork on his plate, not making eye contact.
She was getting bored of waiting for him to spill his secrets to her. He'd never made it this long when he had secrets in the past. Usually after a day he'd blab them out in a rush. Gren would tell her eventually.
A/N: I've never written fight scenes before geez that was rough
