Private Tales A Light in the Dark

[Lyssia D'avore]

"Well," the Lord said. He seemed a bit taken aback by the information that Elijah had given him. Obviously he had not known of that fact, and the reality of it was a bit too much for him to contemplate just yet.

A long moment went by where no one said anything. Roe couldn't think of anything to say after such a thing.

Lyssia looked between Roe and Elijah, and stood up quickly. She, at least, remembered the treatment at the hands of her enemies. Even recalling it brought a touch of the anger she had not felt then, when her feelings for Elijah were even murkier than they were now.

"It has been a long day," she said, straightening her skirts as she did so. She reached out to touch Elijah's arm, try to dispel some of that memory and recall him to the here and now. "I could use some more rest," she said.

 

[Elijah]

Elijah didn't look away until Roe did and even then his stare lingered a little longer as though challenging the Lord to take the bait. There was an anger inside the Captain that needed an outlet. More than anger, even. It was beyond any one emotion he could name and it needed an outlet. Roe seemed the perfect person to take said frustrations out. Unfortunately for him, the Lord agreed to Lyssia's reasoning and let them go. Eli felt Lyssia's fingers brush against his arm and finally he heaved himself out of the chair.

He allowed her to guide him from the room and walked in silence back down the corridors. As they got to the foot of the stairs however that would take them to their rooms Elijah stopped.

"I think... I need some air," his voice sounded like a broken rasp and there was an expression on his face that Lyssia had probably not seen before. "I... I'm sorry, My Lady, please excuse me," with a slight bow he turned on his heel and strode from the house.

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

She nearly flinched at the use of the title, the one she was no longer entitled to. She might have, if it were not for the odd tone in his voice, the half-strangled words of someone in the grip of a strong emotion. One she could not read but that tugged at the strings of her heart nonetheless.

She raised a hand as he walked away as if to stop him, opened her mouth to speak... and then let the hand drop, her mouth shut. She did not know what to do, if he needed his space or if he needed to be away from her or what it could be.

Instead, she went to the room that had been set aside for her, entering and then shutting the door and leaning her back against it. Light filtered through the window from outside. Even so, the space seemed dark and oppressive, the opulence shallow and empty. Like her thoughts, currently circling between Elijah and the situation at home. One the one hand was a desire to be with him, an urge to share more of herself with him than she had anyone else. The latter only brought about bleak thoughts about the impossibility of standing against the tide of change.

It was the former that held the reins right now. After dithering about for a few minutes, she finally steeled herself to go. She slipped out the room, closing the door behind her and went to find the Captain.

He might not want it, might not want her, but she could sooner turn away from him and ignore his obvious pain than she could cut her own arm off. Frighteningly enough, she wasn't sure there was much difference between the two, so close had she come to the soldier - closer than she ever would have allowed had she been anything other than an unwanted and unneeded loose end flipping about in the wind.

She could deal with those problems. But first, she needed to deal with Elijah, and right now she wanted to help. So she moved on silent feet, seeking.

 

[Elijah]

For any one who knew Elijah even an ounce, it would be no surprise as to where the Captain ended up when his emotions threatened to overwhelm him. As soon as he stepped within the stables the smell of horse sweat and hay began to soothe the fraying edges of his mind. Several horses poked their heads over their stalls but it was to the almost perfectly white mare at the end that he went without hesitation.

"I wish we were at home, I could do with a fly," the pegasus nuzzled her soft nose against his cheek and Elijah ran his hand up into her mane. He simply stood there, for how long he did not know, his forehead rested against hers. Breathing in her comforting smell and letting himself... feel. The Captain was a proud man but he knew when a release was needed, when to bottle it up anymore would be dangerous.

Elijah let his tears go as he undid the stable door and slid inside. He made no noise as they trailed down his cheeks and he picked up a brush. Then, as he always had, he brushed Gypsy as she stuck her head in a bucket of feed and let himself let go.

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

She slipped through the manor unseen.

It was a talent of hers, maybe some part of her fae ancestry, that allowed her to move swiftly and quietly and avoid detection. She did not need to deal with retainers of one Lord Roe at the moment, so she simply didn't. She knew where she was headed before she even could acknowledge it; Elijah and her had spent two years and more in one another's company. She couldn't pretend to understand him wholly - he was a man, after all, with odd ideas about things at times - but in so much as one person could know another, she felt that she knew him.

It was why the raw emotion of before spurred her on now. She had no idea how she could help but, perhaps...

She slipped into the stable. At first, she was not sure if the Captain had come in here. The stable was utterly quiet, still. But then she caught sight of brown hair, caught the scent that was uniquely him, and stepped inside.

He was brushing out the mare - a thing he did to clear his mind, to sooth the weary soul within. She watched with wide eyes for a long minute, unsure of whether she should invade his personal space or not.

How often has he intruded when she actually needed it, even if she denied it right to his face? Many times. Why, then, was she so anxious? Because I've never actually offered him the same.

There was shame, then, deep and cutting. She had always relied on him - spoken or not - but had she ever actually offered the same?

Lyssia stepped into the stable. Equine ears flicked, and a head rose from her bucket to fix on her with a Look that might have been comical had the situation not been so delicate, even if it was only delicate in her head. Lyssia cleared her throat - wouldn't do if he thought she was sneaking - and opened her mouth.

And then closed it. She had no idea what to say. She could feel the distress of Eli from here. And yet, she hadn't the faintest how to sweep his trouble aside like he could so easily sweep hers away.

 

[Elijah]

Elijah looked up when Gypsy did - there was very little that could distract the pegasus from her oats. What he saw made him freeze instantly in what he was doing.

"Lyssia," her name sounded half like a whisper half like a strangled, horrified gasp. His hand shot up to scrub at the tears on his cheeks whilst humiliation rose in him like a tide. It was not that he minded crying in front of another - he'd cried in front of comrades, Samantha, and even the Dynast herself. But this was her. The worry that she might suddenly find him weak now threatened to push him over the edge he had been teetering on.

"Is... Is there something you needed?"

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

There was a moment where she found herself shocked and not a little afraid that somehow she had offended him or invaded him in a private moment. That she was not wanted here, that she was an intruder, an outsider. It was only a moment, before she realized it was none of those things, but something like shame in his voice, his actions.

The moment of wordlessness continued. This man, whom had seen her at the lowest it was even possible for a person to be - magical blade held against her own throat and moments from extinguishing her own life - appeared to be fearful in his own way of showing his own humanity.

She struggled with herself for a moment. How had she gone wrong in the dance they shared, twirling round one another with words and deeds and leaving unspoken her own feelings out of fear? Even now, she had to stop herself from turning and fleeing. Not from him, but from herself.

Soldier of the empire. Lady without a House, not title, no wealth. She could offer him nothing but herself - body, mind, and heart - and for a long time, she had thought...

...she had thought. With her head, and not with her heart.

She took a breath, stilled her thoughts. "You," she said in a breathless whisper. "Just...just you," she said again, as if he might not have heard her the first time. She looked down, afraid to see what might lurk in his eyes.

 

[Elijah]

Elijah stared at her blankly as he struggled to comprehend what that meant. Then his great brows drew down into a knotted frown.

"There's... something you want me to do?" Lyssia sometimes had a habit of not finishing her whole instruction. It was a common affliction amongst the upper crust of society who seemed to take for granted that those serving them all had the power to read minds. Of course, that was never the case, but long servitude usually meant it became easier to guess at a persons meaning. He had figured out some such tells from Lyssia but not all. Certainly not what 'just you' meant.

Gypsy seemed to roll her eyes.

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

I want you to hold me, she did not say. Even thinking such a thing in the privacy of her own head made her flush as crimson as a ripe strawberry. She wanted perhaps more than just that, but the way forward in matters such as this were narrow and paved with knives.

"I want the man, not the Captain," she said, still not looking up - still beet red, a faint tremor in her words. "I want you, not a servant. I am no Bursar, no noble. Not anymore. But even if I was..."

Her heart beat a furious staccato in her chest. Butterflies beat her stomach so intensely that she felt like throwing up. She had seen other come at Elijah like bulls in heat, and she could see the appeal even if she did not really know much beyond... Well.

But there was more to Elijah than good looks. She had danced round the question for months now, afraid to open herself fully. Because she might get hurt again, because he might not feel the same and she wasn't sure that rejection wouldn't just shatter her anew.

She swallowed hard, eyes still downcast. "I want the man who cared when no one else would."

The yawning sense of the abyss, of tossing her heart into the darkness and hoping someone would be there to catch it before it broke.

 

[Elijah]

The look of confusion only seemed to grow. But he was a Captain. It was a title he was proud of and had earnt with sweat and blood. He wasn't even sure what the man was without the phrase. He was even less sure of what need she might have of just a man rather than a Captain when she was attempting to stop a dark revolution that threatened to destroy their very way of life.

Maybe she doesn't mean in relation to work, whispered that little voice he had been attempting to ignore. It was the voice that sparked those pangs of jealous and bursts of irrational anger. The voice that he hadn't heard since Samantha had died. The voice he had thought had died with her. Suddenly the stables were too hot and he found himself wiping his palms on his trousers in an effort to remove his nerves.

"I... I'm still not sure what you need me to do, Lyssia."

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

The silence after the question stretched to the point of pain, her lips parted, her mind wildly trying to come up with an answer that her heart was wildly screaming her to speak. Fear paralyzed her - the same cowardice that condemned her time and time again in the past.

Only, this time she would not run away. She could follow the road that Elijah had shown her before, the one where anything was possible if she would simply try. It didn't exactly square with the focus of her fear this time, but what did that matter?

"I don't need you to..," she began, then stopped and swallowed rather hard. She took a half step forward, butterflies beating her belly so furiously she thought she might throw up. "What I want is more than I can ask. But what I want is your touch, your regard. Friendship? More?" She took another step forward, face aflame at the forwardness.

"What I need is whatever it is you need. You don't have to..," she trailed off into silence.

 

[Elijah]

The instinctive flight or fight response that overcame any animal when confronted with something terrifying began to take over Elijah's body. If it had been an enemy coming towards him sword swinging he would not have hesitated to step forward and meet them steel to steel, but Lyssia came at him with words and not only words but words of... affection. It had been the last thing he had expected. It had been but a week ago when he had ended up on the sharp side of her tongue for doing something wrong in her eyes. She had reprimanded him like a commander because he had...

... No. No, he had assumed that had been the reason for her wrath but what else had he said that day that might injure the heart not their plans?

And then there had been that time in the village before they had left...

Small moments that he had never connected before in his mind suddenly stretched out before him like glaringly obvious breadcrumbs. Looks, brief touches, lingering looks. How had he been so foolish?

He gaped at her like a fish floundering on the bank.

"I..." Autonomy over his body returned in small incriments and with a jerky movement he looked at the brush in his hand. "Do... you want to... join me?" He held it out towards her.

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

A moment stretched out, one in which she wasn't entirely sure she would not feint from relief or melt into a puddle on the floor. She had been terrified of outright rejection, of putting her heart and soul forward and out into the world only to have it bruised and battered, trampled and discarded without a care.

She still felt like a much younger version of herself, blindly careening down a path she had never travelled before and had never considered either. She looked up and into his eyes, those glorious blue orbs with the chips of ice glittering in them. She could see the fear there that had mirrored her own moments before, but now something new was swimming in them. A different light had crept into her own, too: hope. The fear was still there - the fear of the unknown, that is, for she had absolutely nothing to fear from Elijah except that he might turn away from her and leave her alone in the world again.

A tentative, hopeful smile crept across her red-stained face. "I... I would love that," she said earnestly. She stepped forward, the swish of her skirts the only sound in the stable (aside from her thundering heart!) and came up alongside him, taking the offered brush. For a moment she held it, arm still raised, brush still exactly where she had accepted it. For a moment, simply being near was enough. "Gypsy won't mind?" She asked, a touch nervously and awkwardly. "I don't know if she likes me near as much as she does you," she added.

A pause, as she let the brush drop. "Not that I can blame her," she managed to stammer out. Something of the wonder and the awe that they were even having this conversation slipped through, and she turned away quickly. She was acting like a fool, but she could not help it. She had been avoiding confronting these feelings for so long, but the time for running was over.

 

[Elijah]

"No, she won't mind," Gypsy gave a snort but put her nose back into her feed bucket, the excitement over. Elijah picked up a curry comb and moved to begin detangling her mane instead, leaving the flank for Lyssia. His head had been spinning before but now he thought it might just fall off entirely. He may have missed the more subtle signs before of her feelings towards him but her declaration was akin to being knocked over the head with it. It left no room for interpretation.

The question now was, did he feel the same?

He barely knew more about himself than his own name. Torture, fleeing to another continent and into enemy territory, it had all taken its toll on him and made him question what exactly he stood for. What he was. It wasn't Captain that was for sure. The loss had stung him more than he had been able to make sense of the last few days. What was he without that title? Everything he had worked for?

What worth was he to her beyond a disgraced soldier?

Quietly he brushed through the knots and let silence reign for a good quarter of an hour. When at last he spoke, he took his time making sure he phrased it right.

"How... long have you had these feelings?"

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

Companionable silence was welcome, if unnerving after many minutes had passed. It gave her an opportunity to wrestle through the myriad, often contradictory feelings that raged just below the surface. It also left her questioning whether or not she had said too much. If she had revealed too much of her feelings too quickly. Perhaps more unsettling, she was unsure if he even had any feelings at all for her.

Of course he does. She had felt the barely restrained protectiveness, the unspoken words in his eyes. But... but that could simply have been him playing the part of the Captain, of a man following duty. After all, what did she bring to the table? A noble stripped of title, without a coin to her name? No title, no land, no holdings, and grim prospects for a future very much in question.

The question rolled over her, and she said nothing for a minute or two longer. She had to collect her thoughts, recenter herself. And when she had, she found that she had no real answer. "I don't know," she said, not looking up. "I could say the first time you intervened in my own self-destruction. But..."

She shrugged uncomfortably. "Slowly. Over months, and with no one thing to point a finger to." She kept brushing, not looking up and looking far beyond the pegasus in front of her. "Won't deny that what others have seen, I have seen too," she said, thinking of the smuggler in the village the other side of the strait. Leering, regarding Elijah as a piece of meat worth fighting over. She flushed faintly but forged on. "That really isn't it, though. You could have just... just done your duty, years ago, and then let me slip into the shadows, become another forgotten face in the grimy crowd. But you didn't."

She shifted uncomfortably, cut her eyes sideways a moment and then looked away. "Maybe... maybe you were just doing your duty as a soldier and nothing more. Service to the Dynast and those chosen leaders of hers and all." She shook her head. "Maybe that is all there has ever been, and I am a fool chasing after will-o-the-wisps in a bog. Even if it is true..," she trailed off.

"Even so, I don't care. You cared enough to save me from myself more than once. Even if it meant nothing to you, it meant everything to me. Duty or not, I owe my life to you." Even if she snapped his head off from time to time and argued with him at others, wallowed in her own self-pity to the point that he had to treat her like the child she had been acting. Somewhere along the way respect had turned to affection, and the feeling terrified her. She had cared for others before, and all of them were gone. Perhaps it would be for the best if he laughed at her, and crushed her hopes now instead of later.

 

[Elijah]

Elijah looked far calmer than he felt. He nodded along politely to everything that Lyssia as he brushed Gypsy's mane, whilst on the inside her words filled a lake inside his chest. He could feel it swelling with emotions he had been ignoring for weeks - months even - and now he found himself forced to look at it. To acknowledge that whilst her words brought fear, it was fear born from a concern all of this was some cruel joke. For if she was telling the truth then those emotions he'd refused to hear were... returned.

And what did that mean? Where did that leave them?

"I'm..." he cleared his throat when his words came out ragged. "I'm not good at... these sorts of things. Emotions," he winced as he heard the stupidity in his own words. "I listened to you out of duty, I followed you to begin with because I believed in saving the Dynast. But I stayed... I stayed because of you, Lyssia."

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

Icy fear swirled within, mixing and competing with a burst of affection. She felt her eyes burn at the admission - the one she hoped for, the one she feared she would never get. "Because you are a man," she chided gently, deflecting. "I'll forgive you this time," she added, scrubbing at the tears and trying desperately to hide them. He might not be good at emotions, but neither was she. There were scars there that were too easily laid bare, and he shared those same scars.

Different reason, same result.

"I believe in our mission, but I believe in you more, Elijah," she said slowly and carefully, a flood of emotion riding alongside his name. Edging out onto the ice of revelation, hoping that she did not go so far as to shatter this fragile new thing between them. "I thought I was dead inside, but in you I found something worthwhile. I...I don't understand it, but..." She looked up, briefly, and looked away. Gleaming trails streaked her visible cheek. She found it hard to breath. "I found the strength to keep going because of you," she said.

In that statement were so many things; working through the staggering loss of her entire world, through the danger of their present circumstance, and through her own shortcomings.

 

[Elijah]

There were no words he could say that felt strong enough to return the sentiment she conveyed in her confession. Everything that sprung to mind seemed weak and pathetic in comparison. So he brushed the mane and let a silence fall as he thought it through: her feelings, their trials, and their path ahead. It seemed foolish to be speaking of love when they might both die in the name of this cause, or suffer worse fates. Samantha would have chided him for such thoughts but he had suffered heartbreak once. He was not sure if he could suffer it again if he took that final step with Lyssia.

Done with brushing, Elijah began to plait the pegasus' mane to keep it tidy whilst she was stabled.

"This is... a lot to process. With everything else too," he took a deep breath. "You need me to lead your armies, but if I am distracted with this, with you..." he finished off a plait and started on the next. "I am not saying no, Lyssia. Goddess knows I don't want to say no but... I.. I need time to think."

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

"Take all the time you need. All the time in the world," she said. He was not the only one that had suffered heartache, even if their tales were different. He had loved and lost; she had never felt this way about another. And yet... her family was gone, leaving her alone in the world.

Mostly alone. Elijah had stepped in and plugged the hole in her heart her family had left behind. Even if he never returned the feeling in the same way, she could live with it. Probably. She could live with the ache for his touch and his regard. Already had been for months if it came to it, even if she did not necessarily understand anything about this little ball of emotion twisted in her heart and her head.

"Just don't... don't push me away. No matter what your answer." Her heart lurched at the thought of such rejection, and the very real possibility that he would choose his duty to the Dynast over her. Such a confliction of emotions there; the desire for him to sweep her off her feet fighting with her own duty to end the corruption cutting through the heart of Erdeniin.

She teetered on saying more, doing more....but in the end, decided that it would make her no better than the matriarch on the other side of the strait. Instead, she disengaged and stepped back. The want in her was so strong that it took an effort of will to pull herself away. "I'll just... I'll just go somewhere else for a bit," she said. She wasn't sure where she would go, wasn't sure that she was any less fragile now than when she had come in here. She had confessed to something that she herself found frightening - actually opening her heart to another. She had not done so, had not really believed herself capable of it.

And still did not know if she was simply setting herself up for more pain, later. A war to fight, and so many ways everything could go wrong.

She turned to leave Elijah to his thoughts.

 

[Elijah]

Perhaps if he were any decent sort of man he would have called when she turned to leave.

Elijah watched her leave and only let out the breath he was holding when he heard the door to the stables close once more. The worries and nightmares that had driven him to seek out his horse seemed trivial now, a far away thought. All that consumed his mind now was the thought of Lyssia and what she had confessed. He ran a hand through his hair and then leant his face into Gypsy's sweet smelling mane. The mare gave a throaty whinny he had come to learn over the years was her way of comforting him when he was tense.

"What do I do?" he murmured to his faithful mount and gave another sigh. The horse continued to munch her oats as Elijah drew back and returned to the only thing he really knew how to do; grooming.

"I suppose the question is... how do I feel?" He gave another sigh. He'd never been good at figuring that out.

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

She couldn't deny crushing disappointment when he said nothing as she left. At least, she couldn't deny it to herself and do it with a straight face. That said, she wasn't going to wear her heart on her sleeve in public, and even though it felt like something inside had crumpled she kept her face a frozen mask.

She had bared as much of her soul as she could to Elijah, but the decision was ultimately his to make. She had imagined some joyful and exuberant confession in her head. Reality had a way of never being what you expected it to be. The last years had proven that quite explicitly, time and again.

Maybe he was right. Maybe now was not the time to listen to her fragile heart. Maybe it was time to change her focus. So far, she had been focusing on... on what, exactly? Directionless meandering, going from one place to another expecting some easy solution to the problem in front of both them and the Dynasty to simply fall out of the sky? She might be fifty years old, but she still thought like the child her parents would still treat her as. If they were still alive.

It had been a long time since she had thought of them, and the moment of teetering on the edge of tears reminded her why she shied away from the memories.

It did remind her of another thing, though. Some things were worth fighting for. She had unquestionably been a liability to Elijah through the years, but it was time that she actually grew up and took responsibility. Made actions instead of reacting to things. Learned how to stand on her own instead of leaning on Elijah for everything.

Making it to the room that had provided her gave her some privacy, but she could not let a tear fall. Whether he meant it or not, Elijah had all but refused her. She could not help but believe it some flaw in herself. As she changed from her public clothes to her private, scrubbing her teeth before climbing into bed, she found herself struggling to push the serious, always-business-first face from her mind's eye.

There was a lot to do, and she had been avoiding it for too long. The morning would spell an end to delays.

 

[Elijah]

According to the whispering maids the next morning, the Captain did not return to the manor until late and had looked quite dishevelled with straw in his hair. As maids were wont to do they gossiped about which lady might have convinced him to take a tumble in the hay. How disappointed they would be to learn he had merely fallen asleep against his horses flank after hours of deliberation and headache. Of course, Elijah's actions the next morning did nothing to stop the talk. Gone was the hooded eyed Captain, skulking in the shadows and glaring at their Lord. For the first time since his arrival Eli did not attend Lyssia first thing in the morning. Instead, he went outside.

It was easy enough to find the other guardsmen and their training. The clack clack of wooden staffs echoed over the estate. A few gave him a sidelong look as he set his sword to the side and picked up a staff of his own but they made space for him. After a brief warm up it wasn't long before he was proving exactly why he had made it all the way to Captain despite being a man in the Dynasty.

A small group had formed to watch as Elijah and the Guards Captain squared off against one another.

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

Sleep proved to be elusive, if not outright impossible. Lyssia lay in her bed staring at the ceiling as the light filtering through the window faded from twilight to moon-soaked darkness. She could not keep her thoughts from circling round Elijah. Well, not simply the Captain; she had difficulty keeping him from her thoughts most days regardless. It was the way she had, the baring of her soul.

Eventually, she rolled out of bed. She wasn't going to get any sleep tonight anyway, so she might as well do something productive with that time. She donned a simple dress and slipped into the halls of the silent manor.

"You need me to lead your armies, but if I am distracted with this, with you..." Whether he had meant them to or not, his words had cut cleanly through her own inadequacies and had delivered their wound. The truth was that Elijah did not need her in the slightest, that she was more a hindrance than a benefit and that had always been the case. The potential end of his career was at her feet, and to what end, exactly?

"Because I want what I had taken from me back," she whispered to herself. The house remained silent in answer. "My family, my life... all of it." And so she had sought through illicit channels. And then the Captain had entered her life.

But what had she actually done? And what did she want now?

The library was dark. Lyssia slipped in on a whisper of fabric, pausing a moment to breath in the scent of paper and ink, leather and binding glue. It carried memories of Mother's study. golden light dancing through windows as the moonlight did now. The memory brought with it a surprising twist of sorrow. It was not often that she allowed something like that to enter her thoughts. Grief was a liability, one she had mostly not allowed herself. Maybe, one day, when all of this was over.

She paused, concentrating, and candles flickered to life. She stood a moment longer, relishing the feel and taste of magic before regretfully letting it subside and then she glided to a bookshelf stacked with tomes. She scanned through the book titles, seeking particular titles from memory. From a youth that her parents would still say she was in. Selecting tomes and sliding them free, she carried a stack back to the table against the back wall, lofting a candelabra along behind her to give her light to read by.

It was not long before she had The Art of War, one favored by her brother, spread open on a page; another title that she had not seen before (clearly a Dalriadan text) spoke of the lineage and a myriad of other information on the Bursars of Erdeniin, lie next to it. There were others, things she had been taught in passing with little expectation that she would require the information. Her brother, obviously, would be there to help her when the day came - if ever it did - that they had to take up arms.

A twisting knife in the heart. Even then, she had to rely on others to fight her battles for her. Even then, she had been a liability, a distraction. Anger and pain twined round one another as she read, covering topics that she had not touched in a decade or more.

She would not lead armies today, or perhaps ever. Neither would she be ignorant of all of it. Somewhere buried in all the words, she thought she found the answer she had been seeking for the last year, even if she did not know what the question had been all that time.

***

She woke with a start to the crack of... something, outside.

It was still quite early in the morning. The candles had burned down to stubs since whenever it was she had slipped off to sleep. She lifted her head, groaning at the crick in the back from having slumped over a table designed for someone taller than she was. She blinked, looking at the notes she had made sometime in the night, and then cracked a yawn and stood.

The echo of the clacking was muffled in the hallway. Staff moved through the house about their early morning routine, casting sidelong looks at the rather worse-for-wear look of their guest. None of them commented on it, which was just as well. Even so, she felt judged by these people whom she did not even know, and so she quietly slipped out of the manor and on to its grounds. It was only natural to follow the sound of ...fighting? ... to the source. Curiosity drove her, though she would much rather have climbed into bed and slept the day away.

She was glad she hadn't. She might look a mess, but while going through his paces the Captain was certainly not. Even if her emotions regarding the man were a wild swirl of everything - anger, sorrow, fear, and determination - he was still a delight to look at. Especially when he was establishing dominance among the rank and file of Roe's armsmen.

She watched for a time, utterly enraptured by the smooth movements and the ease with which he did things she couldn't even mimic in slow motion. She might have been oggling him, truth to tell, though if anyone looked her way she was quick to feign indifference.

Didn't move regardless, just watching the play of training.

 

[Elijah]

The two Captain's circled one another like hungry wolves.

Elijah made his move first, striking forward after a feint to the left. The Guards Captain didn't fall for the old trick and shifted to parry the blow before it could connect with his right hip. Eli bounced back and they circled again, assessing. The second time it was the Guard Captain who made the first move. He darted forward, wooden blade slashing up then cutting back down in quick, snake like movements. Elijah had to admit the other man was good as he was forced to block and concede ground. When the Guardsman couldn't find a weak spot in Pegasus rider's defence, he dropped back and they returned to their careful circling.

The match went on that way for a while; each Captain attempted to goad the other into revealing their weaknesses. Elijah discovered the Guards Captain had a weak right knee, but hadn't been able to mask the way an old wound made him favour his left side.

With a feel for one another the fight truly began to start. There were no more pauses to study the enemy, no more quick parry's and quicker retreats. The men fell against one another as though they were true enemies. Hack, slash, block. Thrust, cut, stab. From the crowd their match drew sharp intakes of breath and murmurs of appreciation for a well executed strike or lucky parry. Some of the other guards and even a few servants were discretely passing coins back and forth.

It was Elijah in the end who brought the match to the end. He'd lost considerable ground in the face of a series off quick, precise attacks, but he'd felt each one growing softer as his opponent tired. He over played his own exhaustion, allowing a few of the Guards strikes to get past his defences to goad him on. When the Captain thought he had Elijah pinned though, the Captain of the Pegasi struck like a viper. Putting all his force behind the swing, Eli cracked his wooden blade across the man's weak right knee sending him sprawling to the ground.

The blow surprised the Guards Captain and several of his men in the audience. Eli's opponents sword flew across the sparring ring nearly taking out one unfortunate guard who ducked and swore. Elijah barely seemed to notice, he pointed his own wooden blade down the Guardsman. For a moment the two men glared at each other, then they both began to smile. Eli flipped the blade upwards and offered his unarmed hand out towards his worthy foe.

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

She had watched before, followed the deadly dance of combat. There was beauty in this that was completely separate from the Captain. Of course, his presence merely added to the effect and she kept herself from openly staring. Barely, but successfully all the same.

She turned to leave before he noticed her there, and paused midway. Brushing up on things that had been neglected for years was but one aspect of the fresh resolve. There was another, harder thing that she had decided she would finally do. Elijah had put his neck on the line for her - him, and dozens of others. Because she was utterly helpless outside of the magic at her fingertips.

She flushed a bit at that. What good was magic when she couldn't use it under duress?

Reluctantly, she turned back. With a deep breath, she continued into the ring as the onlookers went back to their own practice, the swish of skirts out of place among leathers and steel. No few of the house soldiers cast sidelong looks at her.

"No escape today," she said as she closed the distance, eyes fixed on Elijah with a determination that might move mountains. If she looked a little pale, a little frazzled round the edges? So be it. "I meant to ask yesterday..," she said. Stopped speaking, and stopped walking a dozen paces away. For a moment doubt flickered across her face.

Resolve again. "Teach me." She blinked, looked to the man on the ground, and back. "Please?"