Elora's throat felt parched, her vision swimming as a rush of adrenaline and fear spiked her system in response to the rapidly growing form of the warrior who approached her. The Princess' trembling intensified, her knees shaking and hands swift to follow suit. She fought to gain control, battling against the overwhelming human desire to run when faced with the certainty of pain. It was all in the mind, Elora knew, but knowing didn't make it any easier. Tess and Orin had spent years fighting against these base instincts, conquering and controlling the rampant emotion, turning it into strength. The Princess had yet to do so. She'd only been training for a handful of weeks, yet now she was expected to defeat a man who had been training in the art of combat since the moment he could grip a sword in hand.

How? How could she do this? How could she win when the odds were so heavily skewed in Roland's favour?

'Think of nothing but the sword.'

Tessa's words repeated themselves endlessly in Elora's head and the Princess clung to them tightly, muttering the mantra under her breath until they were engrained upon her very soul. It helped. Elora managed to bring her body under control. She pushed her will against the burgeoning ball of nerves that was growing within her chest, stifling their expansion before crushing them mercilessly. Her arms and legs stopped their shaking, her hands gripping the false Rionna with renewed vigour. All of this happened within the single second that followed Tessa's signal.

She had the tools to win this. Her Sister-Smith had made sure of it. It was up to her to show Tess that it wasn't a wasted effort.

The first step was the hardest to take, but take it the Princess did. Then she took another, then another. Before long Elora was sprinting at the man, raising her blade above her head and readying it with a desperate desire to win against all odds. Roland's approach was calm, steady and utterly uncompromising. It was plain to Elora that the warrior did not take her seriously, but if Niari was to be believed her brother wasn't the type to hold back when facing a weaker opponent.

'I can do this!' Elora cried the words out within the sanctity of her own mind, the words rolling around her soul and causing the golden liquid to ripple in response to her determination. 'I stood before Craven and didn't falter, I confronted my mother and did not bend. I won't allow myself to-'

Roland's sword hammered into the Princess' with such force that it sent her reeling. Shock was quick to follow, her thoughts stuttering as she was thrown backwards, feet sliding across the dirt before she lost her balance entirely. Elora hit the ground so hard that the air was knocked from her lungs, her mouth opening and closing as she gasped for air that would not come. She hadn't known what she expected to feel upon blocking Roland's initial attack, but not something like this. The man glared down at her, his sword held tightly in both hands. His lips were fixed in a disappointed frown, clearly unimpressed by the Princess' efforts. It made Elora duck her head as shame washed across her face, red blooming on her tan cheeks.

“Spirit damn it, Elora, move!”

Tessa's shout thundered across the small arena and Elora reacted, rolling to the side just in time to avoid feeling the harsh wood strike her skin. The earth where she'd just been exploded upwards, the strength behind his terrific attack causing it to churn. The Princess scrambled to her feet, heart pounding and breath coming fast as her lungs recovered from her initial fall. Roland was already on the approach, in range of Elora with only two great strides.

He renewed his assault, unleashing a barrage of blows that were meant to return the Princess to the earth and force her to yield. Elora stumbled as she clumsily dodged, deflecting what she could. Roland seemed relentless, clearly taking Tessa's demand to fight the Princess before meeting Orin as some kind of personal affront. Given the skill he was displaying, it was clear that he believed he was being tested in much the same way that Elora herself was. He gave her no quarter, no room to think. The attacks seemed endless.

Roland's sword slipped past her head, scraping against Elora's ear and causing stars to explode behind her eyes. She gasped from the pain, swinging her blade wildly to give herself some space. Just like that, Elora was flustered. She couldn't get her thoughts into line, couldn't concentrate. This was nothing like fighting Tess. This man was stronger and far less inclined to go easy on her given that they only met a few moments ago. The Princess retreated, crying out as she ducked beneath another of Roland's blows, his sword whistling ominously as it passed over her crown. She slipped to the side as the warrior attempted a thrust, throwing a weak retort back at him in retaliation. He slapped it aside angrily, like it was nothing but an insect, an annoyance. His answer was an overhead strike that the Princess had no choice but to block, the intense speed with which it was delivered offering her no other option.

It crashed into her guard, but this time she was more prepared, fixing herself in place and raising her weapon in a practiced motion. It wasn't enough. Roland drove right through Elora, the Princess helplessly pushed down to her knees with bone shaking intensity. Her own blade slammed against her shoulder, directed there by Roland's sword. Elora's meagre strength was not enough to stop the incredible might behind her opponent's attack.

He held her there, his grip upon the blade tightening as he pressed down with all he had. Elora cried out as the false Rionna betrayed her, digging into the rapidly forming bruise. The Princess strained, jaw clenched as she tried to pull herself from underneath the warrior, who seemed to block out the sun itself. In Roland's shade, Elora struggled, the dark enveloping her and holding her tightly.

Determination quickly turned to desperation. She began to waver, the blade shaking as her confidence did the same. That black pit in her stomach returned once more and threatening to swallow her whole. It had only taken a few short seconds for Roland to completely dismantle her defence.

“With respect, Highness,” Roland's voice made Elora look up, jaw tightening as her eyes met his. “Perhaps you're not the warrior Tessaraina believes you to be. Yield.”

The pit grew deeper, mouth yawning wider, waiting to devour her.

“Don't you fucking dare, Elora!” Tess shouted at the Princess. The beleaguered Smith turned her head to stare at the mercenary, who was no longer facing the arena. No, Tessa's eyes were narrowed and fixed upon the entrance, hands clenched tightly by her sides. “You're better than this. Remember what you've learned.”

“I...” Elora struggled to speak before giving up on the attempt entirely. Her frustration rose even as she felt herself weaken. Tears began to form at the corners of her eyes. How could she allow herself to be beaten so easily? The confidence that she'd felt burgeon within her was nothing but embers, the light they emanated already fading.

“Don't speak!” Tessa shouted over her shoulder as she began to slowly trudge up the stairs. Niari and the D'viritazi sisters both watched the pair with pale faces and uncertain expressions. “Don't think. This isn't the Court of Venos. You're not allowed to lose so easily. Remember what I've taught you, remember what you've learned. Get up and fucking fight!”

The words had a profound effect. Elora's soul stirred, yet the light did not come. Instead the shadows darkened, holding the Flower of Venos in a warm embrace. The Princess felt something stir within her, a stubborn desire that she hadn't known was there.

'Be selfish.'

“Tessaraina, this is folly! The Princess is ill-prepared to meet a fighter of my calibre. This is not... this is not...” Roland's face quickly transformed. His mouth dropping, eyes widening as his indignant speech died upon his lips. He stared in dumbstruck disbelief as his hands began to tremble, as his sword was slowly pushed towards the sky.

Princess Elora glared at him sullenly, growling as she redoubled her efforts. Her eyes, golden and glowing with a will that resembled the one carried by her husband, gave her the means to ignore the pain of her body. Her soul beat in time with her heart and as every pulse rippled across her blood and bone, Elora felt her Strength rise. Her progress was slow, every inch gained requiring all of her effort, but she celebrated the small successes nonetheless. A great rage was building within her, one which was taunted by Roland's clear dismissal of her as a warrior, as a worthy opponent. Elora may not be Tess, she may not be Orin, but she would not be ignored or disregarded. She could stand beside him. She would stand beside him.

For the first time since she'd started to study the sword, the Princess finally began to believe that. She took a steady breath as she prepared herself for what was to come.

With a roar of effort, Elora slammed against the confining weapon of Roland with her shoulder. A blinding flash of pain was swift to make itself known, the tears in her eyes spilling free. The suddenness of Elora's impromptu escape attempt threw the large man off balance, his feet shifting in the sort earth and eyes widening ever further at the Princess' inexplicable burst of strength. His sword was lifted just enough for Elora to slip her prison, diving to the side, rolling and up on her feet in one smooth motion.

'Don't think.'

Roland cursed loudly, slashing at Elora's back as she retreated but hitting nothing but air. He pursued the Princess with a darkened expression, irritated that his quarry had fled. Elora set her feet and waited for him, securing her grip around the false Rionna and allowing her mind to focus on nothing but the foe set before her.

'Aim low, chop at his legs where he'll strain to defend.'

As soon as Roland was in reach he raised his sword above his head, preparing for another blistering strike that would no doubt put Elora right back into the position she'd just escaped from. She didn't hesitate, not this time.

The Princess charged forwards, keeping low as she shot past the man, making use of her smaller size and greater speed. Roland didn't have time to lower his blade before Elora slashed at him, dragging the wood across his left knee and making him cry out in pain. His leg did not buckle, but clearly the blow shook him. The Smith spun on her heel in an explosion of darkened earth. As soon as she passed her opponent, Elora swiped at his back with all her might.

Roland may not have been as fast as Tess or Orin, but he wasn't slow. He whirled around and blocked the strike with only one hand securing his blade. Clearly he'd expected to stop the attack cold, but that wasn't the case. Elora was strong for her size, something which Roland should have already known given that she'd managed to hold up his weight only seconds ago. His own blade was pushed back by Elora's, slapping against his chest and making him wince. It wasn't true pain, not really. All the Princess had managed to do so far was irritate him, but she aimed to change that.

Elora drew back her sword and struck again, this time making for Roland's head. The warrior was clearly more cautious now, for he wrapped both of his large hands around his weapon. He raised it in an attempt to ward her off, realising too late that it was a feint. The Princess changed the trajectory of her sword and hit his leg once more. This time it did buckle and Roland cried out as he fell to one knee, gasping in a mix of surprise and pain. Elora felt her soul sing as she raised her sword above her head. Even kneeling as he was, Roland was still as tall as the Princess. She needed to add more power, to end the fight in one glorious blow!

With a victorious roar Elora leapt into the air, bringing her blade down in the descent and sending it crashing into the temple of the warrior called Roland. Her weapon struck true and the man's head was knocked aside, the sword following through as Elora spun. The silence that arrived after her attack may as well have been the cheering of a crowd in Yelmora, her victory all but assured. She had done it! She'd shown what she could do! Everything had fallen into place, her body operating independently of her mind.

Elora looked over to find Tess, a great and proud smile upon her lips as she beamed. Her expression quickly faltered, however, when she failed to clap eyes on her Sister-Smith. Tilia and Dawn were looking to the entrance. Elora could hear something, shouting perhaps or maybe-

Roland's sword swept upwards, catching her under the chin and causing a blinding flash of white to temporarily overtake her vision. The Princess felt blood well up along her jaw, a great heat emanating from the place the warrior had managed to strike. Elora stumbled backwards, her vision spinning and grip on her sword loosening. The world felt wrong. Up became down, left became right. It was all she could do just to remain on her feet as a pervasive fog invaded her mind. It only took a few seconds for Elora's thoughts to settle and when they did she cursed her own pride. If she'd only continued the assault she may very well have won the day, yet now she could only watch as Roland pushed himself to his feet. His eyes were absent annoyance and anger, replaced by a seriousness that made the Princess take an involuntary step back.

Of course it wouldn't be so easy to defeat a man who'd been training his entire life for battle.

The warrior glared at Elora intently, his jaw clenching over and over again as he touched a finger to his brow, pulling it away to find blood. Uncertainty gripped the Princess as a tension settled over them both, one which she had felt many times before when Bonded with Orin, but one which she had never been the focus of.

Roland took a deep breath and slid his feet into position, the tip of his sword pointing skyward. Elora found herself mirroring him, taking a stance of her own, her own blade aimed directly for the man's heart. She stilled a shiver before it could run the length of her weapon, hardening her golden eyes and lowering her brow. She waited for Roland to take the initiative once again. She'd made a mistake by looking for Tess after landing her devastating attack, but she wouldn't let it impede her will to win the bout. She just needed to wait for another opportunity to rise, for the warrior to lower his guard.

Tessa's lessons rattled around inside of Elora's head, all the pieces of the puzzle slipping into place as they formed a greater whole. Roland nodded at the Princess, the meaning behind the gesture more than clear. He offered respect with a simple inclination. It may have seemed a small thing to him and even to those watching, but to the Princess it was validation. Here was a fighter she did not know, one with which she'd never interacted before today. He acknowledged her skill, her ability as a warrior. She returned the nod grimly. No words were exchanged between the two, for none were needed.

Whatever happened next, this would be a battle of equals. In Roland's eyes, she was no longer just the Princess of a far off Kingdom, but a swordswoman. A small thrill ran up Elora's spine, a small smile forming on her lip as she settled her mind.

Quiet followed as the two eyed each other, as Elora continued to think on all she had learned, all that her Sister-Smith had taught her. On paper, Roland held all of the advantages in this fight. Elora may be a hair faster, but it wasn't enough to make any difference now that he was ready for it. The same could be said for her disproportionate strength. The way the man was cautiously sizing her up screamed to Elora that tricks wouldn't work this time. She needed to heed Tessa's words and pray to the Spirit that it would be enough.

The Princess felt warm blood spill from the small cut in her chin, staining her tunic as it slid down her neck. Oddly enough, it made her feel like a proper warrior. She'd never been injured before, not truly. It was almost like a badge of honour, the first true sign that she could handle the rigours of combat. It also wasn't lost on her that she had been the one to draw first blood, which was bizarre in ways she couldn't quite describe. She'd been training to fight knowing that one day she would have to do so for real, but that didn't make it any less surreal. Her battle with Roland may have been a practice bout, but it was the closest thing to real combat that Elora had ever personally taken part in. It almost felt like it was someone else standing where she stood, holding her sword.

Yet it was her. More than that, she wasn't floundering or failing as she so feared she would. That was a victory all its own.

The two moved as one, charging forward with silent agreement and meeting in the centre of the arena. Those watching, the sun overhead and the sounds that filled the air all fell away in that instant. Elora allowed her body to take control and gave over to her still developing instincts.

Roland's sword whipped towards her head and Elora ducked beneath, launching an attack at the warrior's ribs. The man brought his blade down and knocked her own away, retaliating with a spinning strike that would no doubt knock Elora unconscious if she allowed it to land. She threw herself backward, rolling across the ground with Roland in pursuit. She landed a superficial slash on his left leg as she rose to her feet, the attack doing little to impede the approach of the large swordsman. He hammered against Elora's guard with both hands, the Princess still retreating. Each collision of his sword against her own caused the wood to shake and tremble, so much so in fact that Elora half feared that the weapon would be knocked from her grip. She didn't allow it, tightening her hands and attacking where she could, though all missed their mark or was cast aside by the experienced fighter.

'Stay nimble, keep moving.'

Elora continually circled the man, stepping lightly and never allowing herself to become stationary. Roland continued to give chase, his sword sometimes missing by only inches, yet Elora didn't allow how close he came to striking her disturb her form. The problem with all that muscle that Roland was carrying was that he would tire easily, far quicker than Elora should she manage to avoid being hit.

That would be the case... if the Princess hadn't already been training for hours with her Sister-Smith.

Elora's hair whipped about her head, having been set free at some point earlier in their match. It fell into her eyes often, disrupting her line of sight. It would be a detriment should the fight become prolonged, she knew, but the Princess didn't have a way to avoid it and that wasn't the only problem she faced. Sweat cascaded from her forehead, stinging her eyes as she blinked it away. Maintaining a line of sight on Roland was difficult but she just about managed it. After a few moments of moving tactically, of leading her opponent around the arena by the nose, Elora thought she spotted a gap in his defences. His sword dipped a little too low after he missed yet another attack, his ability to ward her off diminished for a fraction of a second. Elora didn't hesitate, didn't think. She burst forward.

It was a trick. Roland recovered instantly, a victorious smile gracing his lips even as Elora's own fell open. He swept her legs out from under her with one swipe with his swor. The Princess gasped as she was made horizontal. She hit the ground hard, crying out in pain as she landed on her severely bruised shoulder. She heard Tessa's voice scream in her mind and reacted, rolling away from Roland as she had done before. Unfortunately, this time she wasn't fast enough to avoid his follow-up. His weapon collided with her damaged shoulder, Elora whimpering as a sharp agony cut through her very soul. She jumped to her feet and, without quite knowing where Roland was, lunged forward with sword raised. Anger and discomfort drove her to retaliate. Elora struck a mighty blow with her sword, roaring in exertion and defiance. The strength she placed behind the attack was great

She struck true! Roland stepped into the blow, clearly expecting Elora to retreat as she had done before. The Princess snapped him across the face with her heavy weapon, causing him to let loose a suffering snarl as he shook his head. She'd left an angry welt upon his cheek and she cheered within herself as she charged, not willing to let another opportunity to press her advantage pass her by. Roland blurred and swung his sword. Elora's raised her own to block.

Her body betrayed her.

She gasped as her arm trembled. Her shoulder, having been the subject of much torment, failed her. This was no doubt aided by the exhaustion she felt from having fought so intensely for so long. Roland's sword smashed into the side of her head. The world went black for an instant, Elora's consciousness fleeing. She came back to herself as she hit the ground, panting and absent her sword, but still having the presence of mind to know she was in danger. Elora scrambled, grabbing at the earth around her as she crawled away, her sword gone and nowhere in her line of sight. She thought for a moment that she might succeed in escaping her foe, but the large boot that came down an inch from her nose spoke otherwise. Her path blocked, Elora's hands closed into fists, her teeth clenching so tightly that they threatened to turn to dust.

No! She refused to lose like this!

Elora felt the tip of Roland's weapon settle against her cheek. The Princess automatically wrapped a hand around the splintered wood, the fragments digging into the skin of her palm. She felt it become slick with blood but she ignored the pain, holding on for all she was worth. Elora glared up at the large warrior towering over her. He returned her look with an impassive stare.

“It is over, Princess. You fought well, far better than I expected in truth, but the match is mine. Yield.”

“No! I will not!” Elora replied stubbornly, surprising herself with the strength of her words. The Princess then began to push herself upright, but Roland quickly put an end to that, pulling his sword free of Elora's grasp and pressing his sword into her back, sending her to the ground once more.

“You are beaten, your Highness! I must insist you yield. Taking this battle any further would be pointless. You can barely stand!”

“But stand I will!” Elora threw herself out of range of her foe's blade, ignoring the multitude of bruises on her body that roared out in protest. Once free of Roland's sword the Princess rose up once more, her legs near giving in her exhausted state.

Elora could scarcely remember a time when she'd felt so tired. Her body shook and trembled, already giving up any hope of continuing the fight, but she remained standing in bitter defiance. Orin wouldn't give up that easily, and neither would Tessa. She just needed to hold on, to focus on winning. She could wear Roland down and still achieve victory. She just needed to find her sword...

… which was being held by Roland. The tall warrior gripped the false Rionna tightly by the blade, even as his own was aimed towards her heaving chest.

“Your Highness... please. If you do not concede, then your defeat can only be assured when you are unable to continue. I will need to knock you unconscious. This is only a practice match, things need not go so far.” The man seemed rather desperate to avoid that outcome, but the look of grim resolve in his eye let Elora know that he would do it regardless. Even if that was the case, Elora could not back down, not after she'd come so far. In answer to Roland's question, she simply raised her hands and adopted a bare-handed fighting stance, one which she'd seen Orin use in the past. The Princess knew very little about fighting without weapons, but that wouldn't stop her from trying.

“Then you leave me no choice.” Roland stated with a frustrated sigh. For the first time, Elora noticed how unaffected by the fight the man had been. His brow was absent sweat, his breathing even and unhurried. The only sign that he'd been in a fight at all was the cut on his brow and the mark upon his cheek. “I will try to make this quick, your Highness.”

Roland shot forwards, dropping Elora's sword as he did so. The Princess knew that she didn't stand a chance of putting up any sort of defence, her knees shaking as she prepared to receive the blow that would no doubt end in her loss. But she'd fought to the end. If nothing else, she could say that she didn't give up. She overcame her fears.

Elora closed her eyes, body tensing and hands dropping as Roland's blade descended upon her head. She waited to feel the crack against her skull, waited for the world to turn black once more and for the last time... yet nothing arrived. A few, short seconds passed, more than enough time for Roland to end it, yet the Princess felt nothing. For a moment she wondered if the strike was so devastating that she didn't even feel its coming, but she didn't believe that to be true. She could feel the heat of Ragora, could feel the dirt beneath her boots.

“The fight is over, Princess.”

Elora opened her eyes and look into those of the man she loved.

Orin stood between her and Roland, a warm smile on his face that made her soul sing. He faced her, one hand firmly holding the wooden sword that had been aiming for her head. Roland was staring at the back of Orin, shock and bafflement plain to see. Elora watched as the warrior tried to move the sword, tried to pull it free of her husband's hold, yet it remained exactly where it was. Her Knight was stronger. He was always stronger.

Elora cried then, for seeing him was enough to break down what was left of her courage and determination. She looked to the ground at her feet as she wept, the tears darkening the already black earth of Dealanaich further still. She felt a hand on her cheek and instinct made her cup it with one of her own.

“I lost,” Elora breathed the words, accepting what they meant.

“I know,” Orin replied softly, leaning forward and pressing his forehead against hers. The heat of his skin against her own was comforting and consoling, his presence banishing her fear and pain. “But you fought like a champion, Princess. I'm so proud of you.”

Elora laughed through her tears, beaming at her husband and seeing the truth of what he said within his eyes, one a glowing emerald and the other made of constantly swirling clouds. As always, the Princess found herself drawn into the Storm, the hypnotic patterns oddly soothing after what she'd just experienced.

“Lord Orin,” Roland spoke up. Elora could hear the strain in his voice. He was still trying to pull on the sword but to no avail. His feet were digging into the soil as he tried his utmost to free his weapon. “I'm afraid I must insist you stand aside. The bout between the Princess and I isn't-”

The sword exploded into fragments, Orin breaking the blade almost effortlessly. Roland Kiden, now absent resistance and with mouth agasp, fell backwards and hit the ground.. He stared dumbly at the wooden hilt in his hand, at the splintered mess that was once his practice sword, before returning his gaze to Orin.

Elora was taken aback by the strangeness of the interaction, a complete contradiction of what she'd just went through. A moment ago, Roland had seemed unstoppable, a juggernaut of immense skill. Yet now he lay before her Orin, helpless and without a weapon.

“The fight is over, Lord Kiden.” Orin spoke easily and without any hostility in his voice, but Elora could feel the turmoil within his soul. She knew him better than anyone and now, with all distraction of the fight removed, she looked within to the golden thread that Bound them together. The Princess followed it to its terminus, to the black flames of her Knight's soul.

They screamed and roared as they so often had in the past, a perfect mirror of the fury that permeated Orin's body. Yet now they felt different, contained by invisible chains that they strained to escape. Elora returned to the physical world, taking in her husband's clenched jaw, the hint of anger buried within the green and black of his mismatched eyes, and felt her own pride grow to fierce heights. He was controlling them, holding back the influence of the Bond more profoundly that he ever had before. She took his hand in hers, helping him settle his emotions in her own way. As soon as her fingers linked with his, the obsidian fire began to settle, sensing her presence. Tongues of flame licked the Bond affectionately.

“I yield, Lord Kiden,” Elora said softly. It hurt to say it, but the Princess knew that if she pressed to continue the fight as she did before, Orin's control of the Bond may very well slip. As much as Roland wished to battle against her husband, she doubted every much that he had any idea what it would be like to face Orin when he was filled with wrath and fuelled by the merciless rage of his soul. “Thank you. I believe I learned a lot during this encounter, though my shoulder doesn't thank me for it. I apologise for being so stubborn when my loss was assured.”

Elora's attempt at levity raised the pall dropped by Orin destroying Roland's blade. The large man, still on his back, took a moment to gather his thoughts before he smiled shakily at Princess Elora, though his eyes didn't leave her Knight for a second. “T-think nothing of it, your Highness. Refusing to yield in the face of defeat is a valuable skill for any warrior to possess, and I've found that only the most brave have the ability to do so. In truth, it is I who must apologise.”

“Really?” Elora blinked, confused as she watched Roland climb warily to his feet, “Whatever for?”

“I disregarded you at the beginning of our match.” Roland said, his face flushing in embarrassment. “I thought you just another young woman who'd taken some small interest in the sword, one which Lady Tessaraina wished to disabuse you of by matching you against me.”

That hurt to hear, but Elora could understand it nonetheless, “I don't blame you for that, Lord Kiden. If I had been in your place I'm sure I would have thought the same.”

“But that is not how I feel now,” Roland stated as he stood to his full height, bowing deeply, “It was an honour to cross blades with you, Princess Elora. You are a trick opponent to be sure, fast and fairly unpredictable. When you struck my eye, I knew I would have to give you the measure of my skill to ensure victory. It was a good fight.”

It was Elora's turn to flush, her smile growing all the wider as she looked to her husband. Orin grinned along with her, nodding at his wife encouragingly. “Thank you, Lord Kiden. Yes, it was a good fight.”

Roland looked to Orin then, something unknowable passing between the two men before a slightly bitter smile formed on the young Lord's lips, realisation lighting up his eyes as he glanced at the broken and useless hilt in his hand. “I had hoped that I might be able to defeat you, Lord Orin, but I see now that was folly. I don't stand a chance, do I?”

“No,” Orin shook his head lightly, though his voice was kind, “I'm afraid you don't.”

Roland chuckled as he shook his head, “I suspected as much when I couldn't shift my sword. I made a deal with Lady Tessaraina, my Lord. It was to battle you should I manage to beat her Highness.”

“Aye,” Orin frowned, his eyes flickering over to the pews. Elora followed his gaze to see Tessa standing next to her sisters and Niari, grinning madly as she gave the Princess a small wave. Elora returned the gesture, but couldn't understand why her Sister-Smith seemed so pleased. She lost, and did so decisively. “Tess told me about that.”

“If it please you, I would like to postpone for a few months. I am hard-headed, and I have been known to rush into things at times, but something tells me that I may only get one chance to defeat you. I would like to be prepared for when that moment arrives.”

Orin grumbled approvingly, nodding once at the warrior, who did so in return. “As you say, Lord Kiden. I'll be waiting when that time comes.”

“Please, call me Roland,” The warrior smiled as he bowed once to Elora and then to Orin, “And don't be strangers. Niari and I have few friends of our own age in the Nest as it is. It would be an honour to one day address you as such.”

Roland looked to Tess then, his brow furrowing as he shifted his eyes between her and Orin. “Besides, I believe I've answered the question I came here seeking an answer for.”

With that the man turned on his heel and made his way over to his sister. Niari immediately rushed forward, helping her brother along as she did so. Elora noticed that the damage she'd done to his leg seemed to have been a touch more severe than she realised, with the warrior heavily favouring the one she hadn't managed to strike.

“Well fought, Princess!” Niari called out with a smile as Roland wrapped an arm around her shoulders, “You were amazing!”

Elora waved at the duo as they said their goodbyes to the D'viritazi sisters before making their way up the stairs. The Princess made a promise to herself to seek the siblings out in future, as Roland had asked. Who knows? Maybe Orin would finally make a new friend.

“I thought you might kill him when you arrived,” Elora only half-joked, leaning into Orin as he checked her for injury, wincing slightly as he came across her damaged shoulder. She watched him take note of it before moving onwards. “I'm glad you didn't.”

“I nearly did,” Orin whispered. Elora didn't react to that beyond kissing his cheek gently. “Tess stopped me. I only caught the end of your fight, but... you were ferocious, Princess.”

Elora ducked her head into his chest, grinning like a fool. Orin had acknowledged her skill before, but hearing it now felt different, more affirming. “Thank you, love.”

Orin pressed his lips against her forehead before taking her by the hand, obviously intent on leading her back to Tess and the others. Elora took a single step, a wave of fatigue hitting her. She would have taken another dive onto the ground had it not been for Orin's steady hands.

“Elora?” Concern was apparent on the face of her Knight, warming her heart as worry stirred within the Storm.

“I-I'm fine, just a little tired,” Elora chuckled through her grimace. “I'm beginning to feel my bruises, I think.”

Orin needed no other explanation before he lifted Elora into his arms, holding her tightly as he began the short journey to her Sister-Smith. The Princess noted the pained expression on her husband's face and gave him a worried look of her own. He smiled at her, not slowing down for a moment. “Boldrin, Vera and Mastan spent the last few hours kicking the shit out of me. Then I ran all the way here from the training grounds. I'm a little tired myself.”

“Spirit, Orin! Why are you lifting me, put me down!” She couldn't imagine the discomfort he was in. She was exhausted after fighting only one opponent, and Roland was hardly the masters of combat that Boldrin, Vera and Mastan were. She strained against her bonds, trying to break free but finding it all for naught. Orin didn't let up for even a moment.

“Too late, Princess. I'm your husband, I can carry you when you're hurt. You're all mine now.”

“I'm always yours, idiot.” Elora murmured, more than a little annoyed at his stubbornness. “Being a romantic fool still leaves you a fool.”

“Ah, but a fool you love.”

Elora sighed, unable to argue with him and so decided to melt into his arms, allowing her body to rest as she closed her eyes for the briefest of moments. When she opened them again she found herself before Dawn and Tilia, both of whom beamed at the Princess with such affection and pride that it took her aback, shrinking further into Orin's arms.

“You were incredible, Elora!” Tilia crowed as she grabbed one of the Princess' hands, jumping up and down with glee. “The way you flowed from one movement to the next, it was almost like you were dancing! I wish Cassie and Lilian were here to see it.”

“Well done, your Highness,” Dawn stepped up next, patting Elora's arms gently. “It seems I was wrong to try and talk you out of it. It was simply stunning to see you in action.”

“Thank you both,” Elora replied shakily. “But I believe luck played no small part.”

“It wasn't luck, it was skill.” Tessa stated bluntly, her arms folded and eyes on nothing but Orin, as his were on her. The two warriors were glaring at each other. “Anything to say, my Knight?”

“A few things, I reckon,” Orin snapped, his anger clear to all present, “But I think it would be better to keep those to myself until I've had the chance to calm down.”

“Don't hold back on my account,” Tess wasn't backing down for an instant, fixing Orin with her stormy stare. “I was right to do what I did.”

“You put Elora in an arena with a man three times her size.”

“I did, and I'd do it again. She was ready for this and I think her performance proved that. Are you saying she wasn't?”

Orin grit his teeth harshly, his stare filling with fire. “That isn't what I meant and you know it. You could've warned me what was going to happen.”

“So you could do what exactly?” Tessa asked sternly, “Agonise over whether or not putting Elora in any degree of danger is a good thing before ultimately deciding not to go through with it. You'll always take the path that puts her in the least amount of peril, Orin. You know you will.”

“Tess-”

“You coddle her and she doesn't need that. What the Princess needs is training, and that means fighting people who aren't me. You need to learn to deal with it.”

“That isn't-”

“It's the truth, Orin. She's your First Throne. One day-”

“I can speak for myself, Tessa,” Elora cut through her Sister-Smith before she could finish, giving both Tess and Orin a stare to quell their arguing. “I don't need anyone to speak for me. Orin, put me down.”

“Elora-”

“Please, love, put me down.”

Orin hesitated for all of a second, but the seriousness of his wife's words could not be denied. He begrudgingly lowered her gently onto her feet even as he muttered, “One day I'm gonna get a full sentence out without either of you interrupting me.”

“It's good to dream.” Elora grinned, taking advantage of his lowered head and gifting him a quick kiss before retreating. As always, he smiled foolishly, his face flushing at just that small gesture. She so loved that she had that effect on him. That thought provided a brief repast, but couldn't stave off the gravity of their coming conversation forever. She raised a hand and touched it against Orin's scar, the one which ran through the Eye of the Storm. “Tessa is right, Orin. I need to push myself, to fight new people that aren't Tess... or you. I didn't understand that, but now I do. You know as well as I that if we fought you wouldn't battle me as you would anyone else. It was silly of me to even ask it of you. It's the only way I'll grow, the only way I'll learn.

“I'm not saying you shouldn't, love,” Orin whispered in turn. “I just... I don't want you to feel...”

“I know, my love.” Elora responded, understanding what her husband was trying to say. “I know you want to keep me safe, but that works both ways. I can't protect you. I know I can't, not by myself, not as I am. It kills me that you and Tess have to fight but I have to stay behind. I want to fight beside you, not cower at your back.”

Elora pulled Orin's face close, pressing her forehead against his as he had done to her. She smiled at her Knight, noting the slight imperfections that made him who he was and made her love him all the more. “I know you can't stand the idea of me fighting. I know it hurts you to think about me ever being in a situation to use what I'm learning, but that will happen. We are hunted and chased by those who mean us harm. One day, Orin, you'll not be able to reach me in time. When that happens, I want to be ready. Who knows? Maybe one day I'll be able to save you.”

Her Knight sighed, looking at Elora intently and no doubt checking her resolve. The Princess' golden glare was unfaltering, as was the will to do what she intended. Orin nodded and squeezed her hand once before pulling away, looking to Tess briefly. “Alright, Princess. If that's what you want, then I'll try to be... less protective. Just let me know when you're going to be fighting someone else so I don't sprint two miles and nearly throw myself off a fucking mountain trying to reach you. I get the point you were trying to make, Tess, but don't do that again.”

Tess nodded gravely as Elora did the same, “We won't, love. Next time we'll let you know before hand.”

With that said and her Knight's feelings settled, Elora turned to her martial teacher. She met Tessa's eyes as best she could, but the resolve she'd carried at the beginning of her match with Roland had slowly withered upon her defeat. The Princess instead aimed her stare at Tessa's feet. “I lost.”

“Aye, you did,” Tessa said scathingly, with narrowed eyes. “But you can feel sorry for yourself about it later. What did you do wrong?”

Elora glanced up at the mercenary with a frown, “What?”

“This is still a lesson, Elora. Tilia, Dawn and Orin being here is irrelevant. Your defeat is irrelevant. What did you do wrong?”

“A hundred things,” Elora replied, looking back on the duel with Roland. “I should have attacked when I defended, should have moved when I stayed still. I was off balance for nearly the entire match, got struck on the head for not taking my wounds into account-”

“Wrong!” Tessa shouted, making Elora jump and giving Orin cause to laugh .

“I'm sorry?”

“You're forgiven, but you don't need to apologise,” Tessa grinned. “You didn't do anything wrong, Elora.”

The Princess blinked, her brain refusing to understand what had just come out of Tessa's mouth. She always did something wrong. That was a universal truth of their sessions together, always ending with a very frank and honest discussion of Elora's many, many failings as a warrior. “I... I don't understand.”

“Sure, you fucked up a few attacks and your defence is still a heaping pile of shit, but that's besides the point. You took the tools I gave you and went to work. This is battle. Nothing goes perfectly and something always goes wrong. You fought to the best of your ability and did better than I expected, all things considered. You were selfish. You stopped thinking about everyone else and focused only on the sword in your hand and the one in his. You were a fucking terror out there, Elora.”

“B-but I lost!”

“Of course you lost!” Tessa cried out, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “You were fighting a grown man whose been training for years. You hadn't held a sword until only a few weeks ago. Winning wasn't important, that wasn't the lesson here. The Elora who left Myrin wouldn't have been able to do what you just did. You let go of all but the fight and overcame your fear of pain. I wanted you to see how far you've come.”

“I did,” Elora smiled as she looked at the bloody palm of her sword hand, clenching it tightly. “But I also saw how far I have to go.”

“And that was the other lesson,” Tess explained as she walked up to her Sister-Smith, hands on her hips. “At some point or another, a warrior always comes up against someone they just can't beat, no matter how much they want it. It's the price of carrying a weapon with the intention of using it. You've lost against me, sure, but you never went into any of our practice bouts with the intention of winning. You did against Roland. There's only one cure for being beaten.”

“Let me guess... more training?” Elora asked as she wiggled her eyebrows at the mercenary. Tess chortled in response.

“Aye, more training. Then more, again and again until you're broken and bloodied. By the end of it, you're either going to be better or you won't. Either way, you can't stop trying.”

Elora nodded intently, hanging off of Tessa's every word. Her Sister-Smith often disparaged herself for being a poor teacher, but the Princess couldn't disagree with that assessment more, especially now. The lessons she'd learned while fighting Roland had been hard won, but necessary nonetheless. Elora definitely wouldn't be forgetting them anytime soon.

“I like seeing this side of your teaching method,” Orin said slyly, a smirk on his lips. “It's very kind, very nurturing.”

“Elora actually learns from listening, unlike you.” Tessa replied. Elora was pleased that the air of hostility between Tess and Orin had seemed to dissipate, not that she had been concerned for it lasting. “And fuck off.”

“Perhaps a break from training is in order,” Dawn said, interrupting the Knight and his Smiths. “Tilia doesn't just have wine in that basket. We should go to Freida's dining room and have a meal, Gods know that you deserve it, Princess.”

“That sounds absolutely divine, Lady Dawn,” Elora replied with a smile. “I could certainly use a few moments of rest, and I know Tess and Orin could as well.”

“Shit,” Orin winced as he looked into the entrance to the arena. “I left Vera, Boldrin and Mastan pretty quickly when I took off. I didn't tell them anything”

“I'm sure they'll be fine, love,” Elora said. “You've been training nearly non-stop for two weeks. Come on, lets share a meal. You can afford to take one afternoon off. Tess?”

“Sure, I could eat.” Tessa shrugged before glancing at Orin's chest, the corners of her lips pulling downward before she finally met his eyes accusingly. “You're hurt.”

It wasn't a question, but a statement of fact. Before their Knight could reply, Tess walked forward and grabbed his hand, Etherin wrapping her body in light as she sank into Orin's chest. Immediately he let out a gasp of relief, a euphoric look on his face as he glanced at his wife with a relaxed smile, closing his eye and banishing the Storm. “Now that's more like it. How's your shoulder?”

The Princess gently pressed her fingers against the severe bruise, finding that it was no longer as grave as it once was. She could raise her arm over her head with ease now, the pain already fading away. “Much better. Isn't that something!? We really do heal quite quickly, don't we?”

Orin wrapped an arm around Elora with a nod, “I keep forgetting that you haven't really had the chance to test how fast you heal from injuries.”

“I'm sure I'll have many opportunities in the future to do exactly that,” Elora stated with a firm nod.

Orin's face became troubled but the Princess was quick to put it to rest with a kiss. “Don't worry, my love. I don't plan on seeking out trouble anytime soon. I'm not you, after all.”

The love of her life laughed explosively at that. Together they followed after Tilia and Dawn, the Princess nestled safety under the arm of her Knight. A moment later, Orin's eyes became clouded, as they often did when speaking with those in his inner soul. “You don't have to apologise, Tess. I know.”

Choosing not to pry, the Princess simply enjoyed the company of her husband as they passed into the shade of the Nest, taking in a deep sigh of relief as the heat of the sun was banished from sight. They walked the halls until they arrived at the residential quarters of the D'viritazi Clan, a small journey from Lilian's arena. As they passed underneath the mural of the First Knight on the way to Freida's rooms, Orin came to a stop and looked up at the image of the warrior with a difficult expression on his face.

“Orin? Are you alright?”

“Just a feeling,” Orin mumbled as he pulled Elora closer still.

The Princess stared intently at her Knight, urging him on silently as she squeezed the hand that rested upon her now quickly healing shoulder. Orin looked to Elora, his smile strained.

“You said that you wouldn't go looking for trouble, but I think trouble might be closer than we realise.”