Private Tales Different Kinds of Strength

[Lyssia D'avore]

It had been months since the last spot of trouble.

The overcast sky only offered just enough light to see by. It was difficult to tell when dawn would finally roll around, not when the autumnal clouds rolled in out of the north on a blustery wind that made her want to wear extra layers. She felt out of place wearing the sensible pants and shirt, if not like an outright fraud. She was no warrior and would never be. She felt that Elijah offered her the training more because she would not stop the pressure to learn how to fight for herself than for any desire on his part.

She wished for her dress. It would have been a foolish thing to wear though. It restricted movement too much even if it was warmer.

Elijah insisted on training early and late, which had also taken some adjustment. She did not like waking early to begin with. Elijah also insisted on training far, far more than she had ever considered a soldier might train. She couldn't understand how they had time to do anything else if this was what they did on the daily. Or the energy to do anything else.

Perhaps her life had been too sheltered before it fell apart.

She might have balked at it more (aside from the fact that she was the one insisting on the training) if not for the infuriating man himself. It quickly became apparent how he had climbed the ranks in a woman's world. The brutal efficiency expected of a Dynast soldier came as second nature. It was no wonder he was built like an ancient, nameless God. Sometimes it could be quite distracting, especially when he made adjustments to her posture or the way she held a weapon or... or a great many things.

Her cheeks heated thinking about the casual touch, the closeness. All of her heated, eyes growing distant and glassy as she imagined them...

She shook her head. Elijah had not admitted any feeling for her. She sometimes wondered if the sudden end of his wife would leave him emotionally closed and unwilling to entertain another entering his life. Especially some girl who was about as far away from the soldier he had loved before. And one that had brought more trouble than she was probably worth in the bargain.

Love. Was it that, or was it something less? Baser? She did not really know. She had no experience with such things. Even so, she wondered at times if this ... ease in his presence was something more than just two disparate souls thrown together in a whirlpool of chaos.

She huffed a bitter laugh to herself as she crunched across the enclosed yard provided by the local Lord for their use. Here she was, thinking about such silliness when either of them might be dead a year from now. Erdeniin sat on the edge of a civil war that she wanted desperately to stop. Erdeniin sat in thrall to some unknown faction that sought to kill the Dynast herself. If she was even still alive, for the highest in the land had not been seen in months.

She had managed to rally allies back home. She had even managed to rally allies here, in Oban, as detestable as that was. The time to do something was approaching; before long it would be time to pull the Captain aside and speak of the coming plans. What good gathering resources if she sat paralyzed by indecision, or by believing herself never ready?

Never ready, like she felt right now as she stepped into the private place where the two of them did their morning exercise and training. "To get the blood flowing," she muttered to herself ironically as she opened and shut to the coral that had been repurposed as a training ring. Gypsy stood not far off, watching her with typical equine innocence. Likely looking forward to the usual drubbing Lyssia would experience this morning.

 

[Elijah]

Elijah was not usually late to training; he had a habit of arriving before Lyssia in order to run through his own training before seeing to her own. Despite her frustrations she was progressing well considering she had not touched a weapon until recently. Every day he could see how she didn't let the sword point tip down, or how her feet fell more naturally into the right position. Soldiers were not made in a day no matter what the masses thought; Lyssia was just learning that the hard way.

He had intended to be there early again that morn and had even gone for an early morning ride with Gypsy in preparation. On his return back he had happened upon the Lords own Captain of the Guard. Their relationship had been rocky to start; it was always hard to be around those of a similar rank and know how to act. But over the past few weeks they had formed an odd sort of friendship. Often, Andre would join him in the ring on those early morning sessions. That morning however, he hadn't offered himself but rather a student of his own.

The lad trailed behind Elijah now as they trudged to the training ring where Lyssia waited.

"We have a guest joining us today. Lukas here will be your first sparring partner."

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

Her face went stony as Elijah arrived. When she noted Lord Roe's own guard captain in tow, her eyes narrowed and her features somehow became even harder. It was always this way, now; whatever her personal thoughts and desires and wants might be, they had been expressed to Elijah months before. He had not offered anything else except commentary on the direness of their situation.

Part of the reason why she trained. Ostensibly it was so that she could stand on her own two feet and not require his protection. Part of it was also to earn the regard that she wanted, the regard that she had such a hard time putting into words.

She eyed Lukas coldly, eyebrow raised. "Why now? Think you've been too hard on me?" she asked sweetly, just a hint of frost riming the words. She planted her fists on her hips and stared the guard Captain down. Well. Stared at him, anyway.

At both of them.

 

[Elijah]

Lukas cringed and Elijah couldn't blame the lad. Lyssia's stares had made grown men several seasons into their beards make excused to be elsewhere. He tried to hide it from his Commander and Elijah by straightening his spine and returning Lyssia's hard glare.

"I've been too easy on you," the Captain said bluntly and crossed his arms across his chest as though it might protect him a little from the frost in her words. "Soldier's don't usually train one to one with their Captain, they learn with another soldier and teach each other as they improve. Obviously we have not had that due to our circumstances but Captain Andre and myself have been speaking and have found a soldier from his ranks at a similar point in his learning to you. From now on you will train together. Some of your lessons will happen with me, some with the Captain. One to ones will continue when needed."

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

If her face had been stone before, if it had been cold... well, that was just sandstone and a blustery wind. Her face was granite, now. Her eyes were like polished chips of ice, like winter itself. There might have been an edge of hurt somewhere underneath all of that, too. That wounded pride had not healed in the last several months, and likely would not.

She did not bother to correct him, either. She was not a soldier. She would never stand in a formation, nor would she fight in one. She was more a liability in that situation, anyway.

You could teach someone to fight, but you could not train your way out of physical limitations.

"As you say," she said, eyes boring into the Pegasi Captain. Hard, but brittle. Anyway, now wasn't the time to dig at that sore.

She shifted her remarkable purple eyes to Lukas. The lad was just that - a lad, her junior by many, many years. And also two heads taller than she was with a reach to match and the strength of his kind to back it. Her eyes shifted back to Elijah. "We will speak of this later," she said and then walked stiff-backed to where the training weapons were kept.

 

[Elijah]

Now it was Elijah's turn to try not to flinch.

Luka glumly followed with the hunched shoulders of a youth doing something he knew he wasn't going to enjoy and Andres gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder before striding after their students. The Captain sighed and glanced across at Gypsy who had been unabashedly watching the whole scenario unfold. She gave a snort and bent her head to graze the grass. Great. All the women in his life were mad at him. He looked to the heavens as though the Divine Goddess might appear to save him then strode after the others.

Andres was already explaining the first drills.

"Everything you've been learning on the dummies, we're now going to get to see how you hold up against a person. We'll start with the eights to warm up. This isn't a duel, not yet, I want you to focus on form and not strength."

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

She paused at the rack to tie back her hair so it was out of her face with a piece of leather brought along for the purpose. Then she snatched a wooden blade and stalked back to the training ring center, back still stiff.

She huffed a bitter laugh at Andres' comment. It was clear he had never trained with her before, either.

The blade was a weight in her hands, but not yet an extension of herself like it would be for a seasoned warrior. Again, she wished for her normal attire; she had not expected an audience to her wearing pants. It was different when it was just Elijah and her. And, well...it was cold.

Why would he just hand her off like this? It made her blood boil - especially because she had no idea it was coming. It felt like another slight, another way to force distance between them. The 'But..,' still hung between them, months later.

And this was not the time to circle and spin round personal problems. Especially ones that were very clearly only hers to deal with.

Without a word said or so much as looking at any of her unexpected guests - or Elijah - she planted herself and went through the series of eight like a machine. Her posture was too rigid, the movements lacking smoothness and seemingly more like attacks against an unseen enemy than a regimen to warm-up.

 

[Elijah]

"I thought you had said you had trained her?" Andre murmured beneath his breath for Elijah's benefit only. It was not said with any real venom and there was a hint of amusement even that suggested it was even a joke, but Elijah still felt it like an attack against himself too. He tried not to sigh. He knew Lyssia was better than what she was showing. Over the last month she had come along to an acceptable level of skill for a soldier at the start of their career. He wouldn't have put her in this position to begin with if he had not thought she could handle it.

"She allows her emotions to rule her still," he admitted begrudgingly. It was a dangerous thing for a soldier to admit but Andres only nodded as though it were obvious. He supposed it was.

Lucas' sword work in contrast cut through the air with far better discipline. The Captain stifled another sigh.

"Why don't we try going through the 8s against one another, hm?"

 

[Lyssia D'avore]

Like a cat with its back arched and the hair standing on end, she stopped going through the flowing forms and shot Elijah a look that would have had her stripped to the waist and enjoying lashings if she was an actual soldier. The stare went on for a moment longer than comfortable before her eyes veiled and snapped to Lucas.

"Yes, sir," she said in a neutral tone of voice. She struggled to get her temper under control - always a prickly ordeal, especially where Elijah was concerned. He wasn't the only one who could get under her skin, but he most assuredly could do it the quickest and most efficiently.

Also, for the most baffling of reasons. Probably because he had free access to her heart and soul, bound as they were by shared fate.

She raised the 'blade' and waited for Lucas, still trying to master those wild emotions, or perhaps to wield them instead. A fiery heart - that's what she had. Surely-

She hadn't been paying attention, and Lucas had set himself and without waiting, delivered a neat and precise stroke to her left knee. It should have connected. It didn't; the solid clack of wood on wood echoed through the ring. Lyssia had side stepped the attack and parried it inelegantly. She was swift as the wind out of the west in spring. She might lack polish, but her reflexes were quick.

Her eyes burned as she stared back at Lucas. For a half moment before she struck at his head.