The Crowned Captive

Rowan had been warming up for around 10 minutes when he saw Cordan lead Morana to the edge of the training ring, a wide grin on his face. Rowan had already lost his tunic, the supple leather trapping too much sweat against his body. Even on the chilly autumn afternoon, moisture beaded over his body as he whirled and whacked at the training dummy in front of him. On the wind, he thought he could smell arousal in Morana, and grinned. He nearly wished he had invited her specifically to show off his prowess.

Cordan jogged onto the training field then, similarly shedding his training leathers. The scent on the wind grew stronger, and he frowned. He would never fight his best friend over a woman, but the thought she could prefer Cordan over him did not sit well. If it came to fruition, he could lose everything he hoped to achieve with her and have to watch heartbreak for his friend.

“You have a full guard posted around her?” Rowan asked under his breath once Cordan was in earshot. His friend nodded, and Rowan relaxed slightly. He stalked over to grab the weapons from the rack as Cordan started his warm-up technique.

They would use live steel today, he had decided. It had been too long since he had gone all out against someone with a sword, and he did not wish to get sloppy. They would heal themselves after. Plus, the thought of Morana’s wide eyes as she realised they could very well kill each other was a sight he would love to see in reality.

He chucked the sword to Cordan as his friend finally rose from his stretches, watching him smile as he weighed the sword in his grip. He had no doubt Cordan was eager for an excuse to finally even the tally between them; their wins against each other were 467: 494 in Rowan’s favour and swordplay was something Cordan excelled in.

“Are you ready, brother? Done playing make-believe with your wooden puppet?” Cordan called out, dropping into a ready stance, a shield in his off-hand already.

“I was waiting for you to finally arrive. I presumed you had chickened out,” Rowan replied, grinning. It was all part of their game, trying to psych each other out and make an opening to give them the upper hand. Rowan usually won this first part.

“Oh, I was just receiving the well-wishes of our little prisoner. She gave me her favour for our match, and I just couldn’t ignore such a wondrous gift that you missed out on,” Cordan prodded.

Rowan frowned then, playing to have been offended as his eyes flicked, barely for a millisecond, to Morana. He grinned then, seeing Cordan leap for him out of the corner of his eye. Without hesitation, he brought his sword up to meet the flying leap and ripped his dagger from its sheath with his off-hand. Blood sprayed as the dagger bit deep into Cordan’s chest, but the elf only danced back, his skin already knitting together. He heard Morana gasp and grinned. She would realise his full abilities yet.

“A lucky shot,” Cordan gritted out, looking for an opening once more.

“A sloppy attack. I am surprised you couldn’t see right through the fein.”

Rowan jumped forward then, a flurry of steel as he moved to hack at Cordan’s head, then whirled to slice at his back. Cordan was slower than him but still managed to block the blows. Rowan sprang away then, unscathed and grinning at his opponent.

“You are too slow, Cordan. Poor Morana is going to have to hold her favoured warrior whilst I piece him back together at this rate.”

“You talk too big before you have won, Rowan. The battle could be in anyone’s favour,” Cordan replied, swinging for Rowan once more. Rowan stepped out of the way this time, grinning as Cordan spun mid-manoeuvre. His sword grated against Rowan’s dagger, hitting the hilt and jolting his arm. Rowan made to cut open Cordan’s exposed side, only to meet the bite of wood as his shield came down atop his sword. Momentarily pinned, Rowan kicked out then twirled, sending Cordan off balance as he came in for a stabbing blow to the leg. His sword was knocked away once more and Cordan brought his around in an arc for his head. Rowan ducked, narrowly avoiding the blade. His dagger came up then, once again slicing into his foe’s flesh.

They danced for what felt like hours more, their limbs becoming heavy and slowing before Rowan finally saw an opening worth taking. With Cordan’s sword locked against his dagger, Rowan forced his entire might into a blow against the shield. The shield indeed cracked, and Cordan swore as his arm jolted under the impact. Rowan gave him no time to recover as he brought his foot out, tipping Cordan off balance. His friend hit the dirt then and Rowan made to stab him, eyes narrowing as his sword only embedded in the dirt. Cordan’s leg took out his own then, and the ground rose too fast. He scrambled, dropping his sword and grabbing his opponent’s leg as he tried to rise, bringing him back down.

They scrambled in the dirt, each wrestling for the upper hand until Rowan’s hand came across cold metal. He picked it up, driving the blunt end of whatever he grabbed against Cordan’s skull. Surprise flashed across his friend’s face then, and Rowan saw he had grabbed the sword by the blade, but unconsciousness quickly took his friend. He threw the sword then, instead taking his dagger and pressing it against Cordan’s neck. When his friend awoke in the next few moments, it was with a grin on his face.

“Concede defeat?” Rowan asked, his heart dancing in his chest.

“For now,” Cordan replied. Rowan grinned and sheathed the dagger, standing and giving his friend a hand up. He clapped him over the shoulder, ignoring the blood. It had been a good fight indeed.

It took him a few moments to finally remember that it had all been to show Morana how competent he was. He looked over to the Fae woman then, his grin widening. She stood wide-eyed, her hand over her mouth in shock. It was indeed awe on her face as she looked between them, now dirtied and bloodied but otherwise none the worse for wear.

“Are you happy with the show, Morana?” Rowan called and chuckled as her mouth snapped shut. No answer came from her as she continued to stare. “If you aren’t awed by our performance, you could at least answer questions from our lessons. Whom is the God who would have watched our fight?”

The awe faded from Morana’s face, and she looked at him with irritation once more.

“Kavi, The Huntress and The Warrior,” she replied quickly. Good, she had listened then.

“If he gets to test you, then I do too,” Cordan called as he walked over, having retrieved his sword. “How many rounds of your exercises have you done today?”

Morana frowned then, and Rowan laughed as she got the first taste of what kind of teacher Cordan was. She was in for a rude awakening if she hadn’t performed to standards.

“None. I had not had time yet,” she replied somewhat indignantly. Rowan could not help but laugh as his eyes widened and he turned away. That was certainly under standards, even for a pretty princess.

“Four sets right now then. I will supervise,” Cordan replied, crossing his arms and waiting.

“Four?! We did one set this morning and I ached, and I am far from in proper attire,” she replied incredulously.

“If you wish, you can take the time to get changed, but that will increase it to six.”

"Six sets? Do you wish me to die of exhaustion?”

“I told you to practice every chance you got, and you didn’t practice once. You reap the consequences now. You will not die. And do not even think of complaining tomorrow. Do better and it wouldn’t be an issue.”

Morana stared at Cordan like a gasping fish, mouth opening and closing as she tried to find some excuse, but no sound came out. Rowan looked away as she turned to him for help, far from willing to jump in to save her. He may have walloped Cordan in the field, but if he pissed him off he would more than happily trap him in a dark hallway and make his opinion known.

“You have 10 seconds before I start adding more rounds on,” Cordan prodded as Morana stared at him. Both males grinned as she yelled with frustration and walked into the training field to begin the exercises, blouse, slippers and all.

“You are asking for her to turn on you the second she has the skills,” Rowan said to his brother, who merely looked proud.

“If she can pose me any threat, then I have done my job well,” Cordan replied, watching Morana closely. Rowan merely shook his head, waving to Cordan as he walked back towards the guardhouse, eager to wash the sweat from his skin.

When Rowan returned to escort the princess back, her blouse clung to her like a second skin from the sweat that now coated her body. She was flushed, and altogether furious, but did nothing as Rowan smirked down at her.

“See you in the morning, Morana,” Cordan said as Rowan arrived. Morana merely growled at him with a seething rage most would balk from.

“Tough session?” Rowan asked as she stood up, wobbling slightly on her legs.

“He said I could stop after two and a half sets from pity. I finished the third, but I am still so weak,” she spat as they walked through the training yards.

“You have starved most of your life and you have never trained a day in your life. You are not weak. Cordan gave you that number to push you to do better tomorrow.”

Morana seemed to contemplate the words for a long second before nodding. Then, a second later, a grin spread over her face.

“What?” Rowan asked, feeling he would not like the answer.

“Seeing Cordan is apparently so incapable, I am going to train to be able to wallop you.”

Rowan laughed, most of the guards now streaming in for their afternoon training looking at him and his disgruntled prisoner.