The fight began slowly, with us pacing carefully around each other like two hissing cats. I didn’t bother attacking; I knew I would never match his speed. No, I had to play this smart instead. So I waited for him to make the first move, ready to receive whatever he threw at me. 

This approach seemed to throw him off at first. He clearly expected me to charge at him in a desperate attempt to prove myself, but I stood quietly, sword to the side and full of openings. The boos and shouts of the crowd faded into the background as I focused on him and only him; each breath he took, every twitch of his muscles, and each movement his eyes took. It might even be considered romantic if it wasn’t so tense; though perhaps that was where that trashy trope originated from-

*CLANG!!*

I just barely moved my sword in time to deflect a sudden strike at my torso, my hand ringing from the impact of Edward’s sword. He was strong; so strong for an eleven year old that for a moment I thought he actually had taken a strength potion. 

He followed up with a quick jab, then another; all while stepping in close to force me back. I danced from left to right; the movements my father had drilled into my muscles coming to life. I didn’t know any fancy footwork, or special moves that the noble children learned as soon as they could hold a stick; no, I learned the dirty back alley street fight style of combat. One where everything was a weapon, and there were no rules. 

Ducking under his sword, I swept up a handful of sand and threw it in his face as I swung up my sword with all my strength. It whistled past his face as I failed to hit anything of significance - the sand had forced him to stumble back further than I expected. Still, I followed up with another swing, and then another; they were simple and clumsy, but they were powerful. Fueled by rage and dedication, they forced him to stay on the backfoot as he fought to deflect my swings.

But to give him credit, it wasn’t long before he recovered and it was my turn to defend. His strikes were growing faster, more precise - like what he did to Marianne. I could feel my grip weakening with the repeated strikes, and before I could recover it, the sword slipped through my fingers and onto the sand. 

He was certainly talented, I could give him that. 

Edward raised his sword pointing it at my throat. “Now, I believe you said your life belongs- OOF”

He let out a shout as I swept his leg with my own, sending him to the ground. I leapt on top of him and kicked away his sword with a vicious grin on my face. 

“Now it’s MY turn to get serious,” I snarled, swinging a fist right into his perfect face. 

Left, right, left - again and again I swung. I would have kept going, except he managed to throw me off by using my own tactic against me; a fistful of sand desperately thrown at my face. It was enough of a distraction for him to kick me off and grab his sword. We both scrambled to our feet, breathing heavily; me spitting sand from my mouth and him spitting blood from his. 

“You’ll pay for that,” he growled, the rage burning in his eyes. But it didn’t frighten me; my anger was far stronger. I charged him with a yell, diving into a tackle as I went. He slashed down with his sword, and though I could feel it opening up my back it did nothing to stop my momentum as I crashed into his waist. We tumbled to the ground again, Edward’s sword slashing into my back over and over again. I set my arm against his throat and push, causing his strikes to grow more frantic. I let loose a growl of pain in response, but my other hand grabbed the blade of his sword bare handed.

“Surrender!” I roared into his face. Edward just kicked his knees into my stomach, forcing me off his throat. I kept my grip on the blade though, and pulled it free as he snapped back, “Never!”

I knew I was bleeding; probably quite badly, judging from how it was running down my leg. But I could barely register the pain in my hand or on my back. I threw Edward’s sword out of the arena as I raised a beckoning fist. We weren’t fighting an elegant duel of nobility anymore; no, he was on my turf now, and I wasn’t going to let this chance slip by. 

“Come closer then, so I can teach you when to quit.”

Edward obliged, charging towards me like a beast. Gone was his condescending arrogance; gone was his noble shine - now he was just a human, like me. I sidestepped his charge and brought my elbow down onto the back of his neck. As he arched back in pain, I grabbed him by the hair, and brought my knee into his stomach with a sickening crunch. Lastly I finished up with a punch to his spine that forced him to the ground again. As he fell I switched my grip from his hair to his arm and flipped him onto his back. 

As he gasped for air from my multiple stuns, I wrapped my legs around his arm and pulled it tight, forcing him into an arm lock. I had him now; my feet went under his other arm and I squeezed my calf down onto his neck. 

“Give up!” I shouted. “You’ve lost, give up before you die!”

But Edward was stubborn. He twisted and kicked, but I was clamped on like a very annoying barnacle, and going nowhere. His movements grew more frantic as his body starved for air - I could feel the wounds on my back getting ground into the sand. I was starting to feel the pain now, and the blood loss; I could see spots in my eyes as I gritted my teeth and tightened my grip. If I fainted now it would all be for naught. 

But then the referee was on top of us. He was shouting something at me; my exhausted brain was having a hard time understanding him, until I realized Edward was desperately patting the ground; he had given up. 

I loosened my grip and rolled off of him. I was exhausted, and I could feel the pain of my wounds beginning to slice their way into my body. I staggered as I climbed to my feet, but I was better off than Edward; the boy was just staring into the night sky as he just lay there, panting. 

The referee was still talking to me, but I wasn’t listening anymore; I had accomplished my goal. Hopefully the people I was putting such a show on for had noticed. 

Now, all I needed was rest, and so I began staggering away from the arena and towards the gates that would take me home. No-one tried to stop me as I left, which I was grateful for, and soon there was nothing around me but fields stretching in every direction. They were quiet and cool; though the shouts at the arena echoed out across the lawns, they did nothing to drown out the summer crickets. 

My exhaustion only worsened as I got closer to the barrack gates. I was starting to stagger from side to side; maybe it was better if I took a quick nap here instead… the grass looked quite comfy.

But, as my body began setting off on a very quick journey towards the ground, it was interrupted as a mysterious figure caught my sagging body. 

“Miss Freya? You need to come with me. There’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

“O-oh. Oh good. I hope you guys have a spare bed…” I mumbled as I sunk into unconsciousness.