Bound
Of Swords
Sunlight.
"Bloody hell . . ." Hector groaned as the sun shone in his eyes. Last night was a blur, nothing more than a part of his endless days as Ostia's prince. The only clear thing, the only tangible thing that he remembered – tale of Sacae. The green grass . . . Sister Wind . . . it was all so distant yet familiar, like a pleasant memory longing to be remembered.
For a while, he dwelled on the thought, staring up at the high ceiling, his hands clutching the soft, white sheets. He suddenly shook his head and sprang up; he seemed to be spacing out a lot these days.
"Well, it's not exactly easy losing sleep," he muttered, quickly changing into his training clothes. Normally, he wouldn't have prepared this early for a lesson, but he did so love his sword training sessions. Anything to get even with Eliwood, anything! He couldn't stand being two points behind in their game. Two points. All thanks to Eliwood's stupid rapier. Maybe he should get one. But he loved his Wolf Beil too much to do so.
"Prince Hector!" The door slammed open, and Hector jumped just as he was about to put on his cloak.
"Oswin! What are you – why are you – can't I get any privacy around here!" he sputtered angrily. Honestly, all these people coming and going to and from his room – it had to stop!
"I apologize, my lord," said the orange-clad knight, "but quite a few of us were worried, since you slept straight from nightfall to late afternoon –" Hector blinked in shock.
"Nightfall to sunset? What are you talking about? It's only early afternoon," he said. Oswin stared, then cleared his throat.
"Actually, Lord Hector . . ." he trailed off, leaving the prince in no doubt as to what time of the day it was.
"What! Why didn't anyone wake me!"
Oswin raised a brow. "We have tried, my lord, however, once you awoke, you changed, then collapsed onto the bed and slept again. At least, from what I've heard." Hector felt his cheeks flush. It was true. He had gone straight to sleep with his armor on – he wondered why he hadn't woken up in the middle of the night.
"If Your Highness wishes," the knight went on, "the king has allowed for the rest of your day to be free, since my lord obviously needs it." Hector scowled and growled, but perhaps a free day – well, half-day – would do him some good.
"Yeah, whatever," he said, waving the knight away. "Tell Father my thanks." Oswin bowed as he went out.
"Of course, my lord." The doors slowly closed.
Hector contemplated. A free day; it was a rare treat, something that he had not had in a while. So what to do with his time . . . ?
"Hyaaa – !" Thuck.
And what better way to spend one's day than to spend it on training, so that in their next match, Hector can best Eliwood and his annoying rapier?
Of course, one cannot train unless one can get his sword out of the tree.
Which is the predicament Hector seems to be in now.
"Nng – useless tree! Bloody, rubbish, troublesome, pain-in-the –" He gave the tree a hard, frustrated kick.
"Kyaaaaa!" Thump!
In what appeared to be a tangle of various body parts and cloaks, a stream of teal hair stood out most brilliantly. Which were mostly going into his eyes. Bloody women and their bloody, long hair –
"Watch what you're doing, you –" An angry river of curses in a foreign language began to spout from the girl's mouth, just before she realized who it was. YES woman, it was the prince that you were talking to. Finally. "– Oh." A simple, lilting, 'oh', just like the very presence of Hector explained everything.
Like . . . he was the bane of her very existence . . . or something along those lines.
He didn't deserve this.
He was a prince. Prince of the greatest kingdom on Elibe.
Plus he hadn't done anything harmful as of yet. Today. Sort of.
"– sorry for lashing out like that, but it was your f – hey, are you listening to me?" Hector turned his gaze back to Lyn, confused and bewildered. He had lost track of her ranting quite some time ago.
"Huh?" he said. She let out a growling scream-like noise which reminded Hector of one of those pet-monkeys that various lords kept. He never understood their fixation, actually. He would have rather preferred a pegasus, or one of the brutish wyverns, even. Monkeys were extremely annoying and practically useless in battles –
"I said," she said with a hint of her old arrogance as she struggled to free herself from various loose armors and cloaks and such, "I apologize about my mouth, but you had given me a rather rude awakening." She dusted her bright-blue Sacaen dress off after she tossed her greenish cloak behind her back, a slight scowl twisting her features. Hector gave an equally aggravated, if not worse so, scowl, though it was less menacing, admittedly, as he had yet to get up from the ground yet.
"Well, I did not know that you would be up this particular tree, and if anything, I expected you to prance around the – hey, what are you doing out anyway?" Hector asked with the barest concern touching his tone. Don't get him wrong! It wasn't as if he – he actually cared for her or anything, he just didn't want her collapsing all over the castle. Plus, she had barely recovered the last time (yesterday) he visited her, from the fever . . . and everything.
To his eternal frustration, a small, haughty smile tugged at her lips. "My lord, you give your underlings far less credit than they deserve," she said in an ironic voice, and he half-expected her to give him a mocking bow to go along with her charade. But he now knew better than that, that even in her scornful acts she will never bend to a foreign lord.
And just what did she mean by that anyway?
"What do you mean?" he said, echoing the question in his mind. To his genuine puzzlement, Lyn's brows shot up, regarding him reproachfully as he straightened himself up. ". . . What?" She sighed.
"You really are dense, aren't you," she said. It wasn't even a question, but more a statement. And it caused Hector to scowl very heavily again. Just what did she mean by that? And just when he had thought it would be actually safe to talk to her without a twenty-feet wall between them. He would never understand women, Sacaen, noble, old, young, or not.
"Serra is more capable with her staff than you give her credit for," she said, her tone disapproving. "Apparently you think that she's a pink bundle of annoying, worthless –"
Had she been one of his poor, defenseless, royal pillows, he would have a) given it a good pounding, b) screamed into it, and/or c) threw it across the room. Preferably into a nice, roaring fireplace. He could only take the let's-blame-Prince-Hector-for-every-problems thing for a certain amount of time, after all.
But, alas, Lyn was not one of his luxurious royal pillows, and even if she were, pillows couldn't talk, so he wouldn't be in this situation anyway. So instead, he settled for digging the toes of his leather boots into the hard, dusty training ground with barely anything growing around it.
"I know that," he replied defensively, scratching his shoulder where the impact of the metal shoulder-plate and the ground faintly echoed through his bones. "But it's Serra, and she has a tendency to blow everything up, say, two hundred times their actual proportions, and no one in their right mind would take in everything she says, word-for word." She sighed again, though this time, seemingly more to herself than as a rebuke for him.
"Well, I kind of figured that, after five minutes in her company . . . but that's beside the point. I still say that this thing is your fault," she said stubbornly, folding her arms across her chest, going back to their previous argument. "Why would you go around attacking innocent trees, anyway?" He snorted. Innocent? This bloody tree right here? Doubtful.
"It swallowed up my sword and wouldn't give it back," he said truthfully. She stared at him, with a shocked expression on her face – then she began to laugh. And it wasn't like one of those small, delicate, lady-like laughs, either; this was from depths of her stomach, and she doubled over, clutching at her lower body.
Which, naturally, got him annoyed. What was so funny about this situation? The bloody tree ate up his sword. He had wanted to set the tree on fire, just to get his revenge. There was nothing humorous about it (Though, later on, when he reflected back on it, he would disagree with himself).
"Don't you know," she said finally, once she had regained control of herself again, "that you aren't supposed to get your sword stuck in the tree in the first place?" He scowled and muttered darkly under his breath; yes, he realized, but he wasn't about to admit his mistake in front of her.
"Yeah, well, swordplay is harder than you'd think," he mumbled incoherently, driving his toes forcefully into the dirt, imagining each and every dust speck that flew up into the air to be her f –
"I know," came her semi-sympathetic reply, and he stopped in mid-motion out of sheer shock. He looked at her quickly (down, now, since he had gotten up a long time ago), and made a confused sort of face. Actually, he didn't know what his current expression was, since he didn't carry a mirror around like several snotty, conceited court-ladies he could mention, but he was pretty sure that his face expressed his deep-felt puzzlement. Lyn, the scornful, spiteful, evil (well, no, not quite, but close) woman, offering him empathy, however small?
"I know," she repeated, slower this time, as if she didn't quite think that he heard her the first time. "It is quite hard, but once you have the basics –" Hector couldn't resist interrupting her, as hard as his etiquette teacher drilled into his head that it was a No-No, Your Highness ever since the age of – the time he had started talking (Which was always too early for Madam Westings, apparently).
"I don't want fake sympathy," Hector grumbled. Lyn's brows shot up.
"Excuse me?" she said politely. "What do you mean, fake sympathy? I'm just trying to be nice –"
"Slaves aren't allowed to even touch weapons," Hector pointed out earnestly, but immediately regretted it as her eyes darkened menacingly. What did he say? It was a commonly-accepted fact. Then he remembered –
"I wasn't always a slave, you know," she said, her voice menacingly quiet. Hector winced. Whatever had caused him to be so blunt and rude, he didn't know. Maybe it was just the way he was.
She gave him a withering gaze. "You nobles are so ignorant of the ways of others. You have no idea what the outside world even looks like." Now that, he had to protest. There were great scholars of his, er, kind, and some of them even traveled all around Elibe, gathering knowledge from various countries.
"Wait just a minute you –" he began angrily, but he swallowed back the words and allowed his jaw hang in surprise as Lyn reached for one of the spare iron swords that he had brought out. St. Ellimine, she was serious. She really did have some experience with the weapon. Her expert handling was obvious, even to a beginner like Hector.
"Look, do you want me to help you or not?" she said, testing the edge of the sword on her finger. Quickly, Hector closed his mouth and nodded.
It can't hurt, he thought. In fact, knowing different styles might even be helpful, since it'll probably throw Eliwood off-guard . . .
Lyn took a few steps back from him, kicking up dust from the dry training grounds as she did so. "Assume ready position," she told him, now a good three yards or so away from him. Hector gripped at the sword with one hand, half-way slung on his shoulder, as he was accustomed to. Lyn raised a brow.
"You look like you're holding an axe," she informed him. "You don't even know the basics, do you? It's no wonder you got your sword stuck in the tree." Hector's cheeks flushed most brilliantly.
"Look, are you here to mock me or help me?" he snapped, having minimal tolerance for taunts. She raised a hand with a sigh.
"Be patient! I'm trying to remember which posture would be the best for you . . ." She trailed off, sword in one hand and the fingers on the other tapping at her chin thoughtfully.
"There are different postures?" Hector asked. Oswin had taught him only one. Lyn looked as though she was trying her best not to roll her eyes.
"Of course. You're practicing for war, aren't you? Wars aren't like duels. You have to adjust depending on your terrain and your enemy's weapon."
"Actually . . ." Hector began reluctantly. "IjustwanttobestEliwood."
She looked at him, and for a split second, he thought that she would burst out laughing at his childishness. "Eliwood?" she said, her face carefully blank.
"Uh, yeah. My friend. Prince of Pherae, blah blah blah, he duels with a rapier," he said, scowling and turning his gaze from her. He almost expected a derisive laughter – almost.
"I see," she said, her expression still blank. "Now . . . take the hilt in both hands. Are you left-handed or right?"
"Right," he responded immediately. She nodded, and went on with her instructions.
"Then put your right hand on top of your left when you grip it. It gives you more control over the blade." She demonstrated with her own sword, and awkwardly, Hector followed suit. She gave her head a slight inclination of approval.
"Good. Now put your right foot in front of your left – the sole of your left foot should be lifted slightly, so that you can spring at any time – and try to balance most of your weight onto the right."
"Like . . . this?" He did as he was told.
"Yes," Lyn said. "Place the sword in front of your stomach – not quite that far, only a fist or two away from your bellybutton – and slowly raise the tip of your sword until you see it pointing at the throat of your enemy."
He blinked, not quite grasping the point of this. "Huh?" Surprisingly, she was patient with him.
"It makes it so that the enemy can't tell how long your sword is," she explained. "That would give you advantage in any case, a duel or a real to-death fight."
Right, he thought, the idea dawning on him. It did make sense. If your opponent could not estimate how far your reach was, then they would hesitate and would not be able to attack as freely.
"Now shuffle around, but keep enough bounce with your feet and don't drag them." He began to do so, the dust clouds forming about his feet, coating his dark trousers, feeling foolish as he scuffled about with a sword held uselessly in his hand –
She frowned suddenly. "No, wait, I forgot to tell you, always keep your left foot behind your right. Your legs aren't as likely to get tangled then." Hector glowered back at her.
"How do you mean?" he grumbled, though he was eager to learn.
She assumed ready-position herself, and gracefully, she began to step about the dry training area surrounded by greens, the dust-cloud around her noticeably smaller than his own. Her feet seemed to glide over the cracked surface of the ground – but he couldn't help but observe that her steps faltered at times.
"Like so," she said after a while, a little short of breath yet glowing. He noticed that she was not smug for once, but proud and alive – this, perhaps, surprised him the most out of all that happened so far today.
"So – now I –" Hector tried to copy her fluid, graceful movements, but he only succeeded on tripping on the long, dragging cloak and was forced to step wildly as he frantically detangled himself from the cloth to keep himself from falling.
When he did fall anyway, he looked at her, half-expecting her to laugh, or whatever, but instead, he found her face to be patient and understanding.
A jolt of – something – went through him.
This is certainly new.
She finally gave a small smile as he helped himself up. "It's not easy, trying to learn from scratch. But you'll get it soon."
Embarrassed, but not mortified – yet – Hector got back on his feet and dusted himself hastily. "You know, you should smile more often," he suggested suddenly, surprising himself in the process.
Lyn looked taken aback as well. "What?" her voice wary and suspicious.
"You look – uh –" less arrogant and smug and maddening that way, sounded like he had a death-wish, so he settled for a nice, simple "– better. With a smile," he said, somewhat lamely.
"I see," she sniffed, the bridge of her nose wrinkling slightly, though it was clear that she didn't.
"So – so! How about the rest of that lesson!" he said, overly loud. "Tomorrow, though. I am slightly worn and – I just . . ." he trailed off, not wanting to reveal that yes, he did notice that she had not yet fully recovered from her injuries. Lyn, thankfully, made no further comments – though he did catch her giving him an odd note out of the corner of his eyes.
"Tomorrow, then?" she said, bending down and lightly placing the iron sword back on the ground. Hector nodded, though the gesture went unseen by Lyn.
"Tomorrow," he echoed quietly.
Author's Note: Three months since I've updated! Wow. But you wonderful reviewers reviewed anyway! Thank you! You keep me going. (much love) Thanks to you I beat the writer's block for this chapter. X3
Ahhh, and please note that the story is very much half-way through now. I'm planning on about two or three more chapters, not including the epilogue. Yes! I can't believe it. I'm almost there!
Link015: 8D; Ah, yes. She came back only to disappear for three more months. But! It wasn't as long as before! Eheh . . .
azn pride alwayz (x2): D: Gah! I'm sorry I took so long. I thought I would be able to update, November being Thanksgiving break-containing month and all, but due to this chapter giving me much grief, it was extremely delayed. I hope next few chapters won't take as long. :D;;;
Wandering Cat: I'm glad that I could bring Sacae to life vividly. But! There are NUMEROUS authors who are infinitely more brilliant than I am . . . hee hee, though, anything to convert people to Hector x Lyn-ness –! (My all-time favorite pairing of any fandom now, though still tied with Kent x Lyn)
Frodo007: Thank you for the encouragement. I appreciate reactions from my readers. X3
Sabishi Tomo: Haha, yes, they ARE OOC at times. (Fine . . . half the time. . . . Most of the time . . . all of the time! I get it! I get itt! -tear-) Though, since it is AU, I'm not sure if it can be helped with my current level of skill . . . but you know, I am a fledgling amateur authoress. I just hope that my writing improves over time.
RevFF: Aw, you're making me blush! Seriously! Have you checked out Lzn's story, Crossroads of the Heart? Granted, it had not been updated in a while, but her favorite stories/authors are great, too.