This is my secret Santa for @yourheartonfire , I hope that you like it!
Prompt: A swordfight, between a protagonist with fancy formal training and an antagonist who's a back alleys dirty tricks kind of fighter. It can be friendly sparring or deadly combat, but there should definitely be some suppressed romantic feelings there
âWooow,â the assassin drawled, spinning their blade lazily in their hand. âNice uniform. Did they also give you that fancy sword?â
The soldierâs knuckles tightened on their weaponâs hilt, making the leather wrappings creak. âDonât do this.â
It was not what they had imagined saying to the assassin if they ever met them again. No part of this sick situation had ever intruded upon their many daydreams and curious musings. In their minds eye, their friend was always still back at the orphanage, teaching kids the basic steps of combat like the old swordsman had once taught them. Or if not there, somewhere far and free from this land that hated them. Somewhere warm. And safe. They weren't supposed to be the very type of person that the soldier had sworn to fight.
âWhy? Because we know each other?â They still spun their shortsword nonchalantly, as if none of this, their personal history or the soldierâs battle prowess, mattered, but even after all these years, the soldier still knew their tell: the tufted end of their tail lashed anxiously at the earth, stirring small puffs of dust around their ankles. âGotta say, I heard youâd grown up, but I wasnât expecting time to be quite so generous.â
The soldierâs cheeks flushed involuntarily. They had to fight the urge to hug themselves as the assassinâs golden eyes roved up and down, hungry and sharp-edged, cutting right through the plating and undoing every link in the chainmail beneath, exposing them to the world. 15 years ago they might have welcomed it. They still would have blushed, and the assassin would have teased their shyness, but they also would have gently guided them through it. A relationship at their own pace, soft and slow as leaves in a late summer creek.
They did not feel that same safety now.
The soldier raised their sword higher. âThis is youâre last chance to walk away. One more step and I will consider you a threat to the crown.â
The assassin raised their brows. They stepped forward. âYou probably should have considered that a long time ago.â
The solider barely braced themselves in time, catching the assassinâs wicked blade along the edge of their own before it gashed open their face. It was a bold move, if the soldier was a little slower it would have gotten them, but the footing wasnât firm enough to hold against their strength.
âSloppy.â They shoved forward, pressing all their weight all at once against the assassinâs weapon.
The soldierâs sword slid up and free with a light shink.
âYou still go right for the throat. No care for how youâre going to hold the position later.â
The assassin glared. âDonât preach your fancy training to me.â
âDonât be jealousââ
The assassin scoffed. âJealous? Jealous? Being jealous would imply that you have something I want, and I would die here, crawling in the mud, before I rolled over as one of their dogs!â
They lunged again, this time nimbler, feigning another blow and ducking the soldierâs return swing. The soldier barely whipped around in time before the point of that wicked blade found itself a home between their shoulder blades.
âYouâre really trying to kill me.â As soon as it was out, the soldier bit their tongue.
âWere you not? Iâm sorry, sweetie, it seems thereâs been a misunderstanding.â
Suddenly the assassin was right up in front of them, one hand flat against their chest.
âWhat are youââ The soldier cranked their head in search of the sword, but then Villainâs tail wrapped around their knee. The end brushed the inside of their leg, sending a traitorous shiver down their spine.
âYou still like me,â the assassin said, hand drifting up to their cheek now. Clawed fingers slid into their hair, just gentle enough not to scratch the surface, and their thumb trailed gently back and forth along their cheekbone. âEven after all youâve done. After selling your soul to see mine damned, you like me.â
They laughed, a musical, hissing sort of sound that showed off the pearly points of their fangs.
âDoes your boss know?â The points of their claws sank into their scalp. The soldier winced, attempting to pull back but only earning themselves a tighter grip on their hair. âIâm sure the king would have quite the shock to know one of his precious vassals consorts with demons. Or is it fine because itâs just the one? It is just me, isnât it?â
They wrenched the soldierâs head to the side. It was almost as if they were on the verge of tearing their hair straight out, even as their face leaned carefully in, breath soft on their cheek and voice oh so gentle.
âIt might hurt my feelings if youâve been playing around with other monsters.â
âGet off me!â The soldier beat the flat of their sword against the assassinâs hip. A sharp, searing pain ripping through their thigh immediately followed. The soldier screamed.
The assassin drew their sword back scarlet, and the soldier collapsed the to the forest floor, a gush of warmth soaking their pantleg.
For a moment the assassin only stood over them, twirling their bloodied blade once, consideringly. âHuh. It seems I donât want you dead. But donât think I wonât do it if you press me. Just stay down and let me finish my job.â
They strode for the crashed carriage, dead driver still hanging out of their seat.
âNo!â the soldier pressed their palm to their wound and wobbled to their feet. They gritted their teeth against the muscle-tearing agony as they dragged themselves stiffly forward. âYou donât understand!â
The assassin glared over the shoulder. âNo, [Soldier], you donât understand. You think weâre still kids playing games. We just whack each other a few times until we both get tired, call it a draw, and go home, but sorry, dear, weâre not kids anymore. Iâve been charged to kill the prince, and that is what I aim to do. Stay out of my way or die with him.â
âYouâdâŠyouâd really kill me?â
âI wouldnât be killing my [Soldier]. Iâd be killing another piece of the putrid infection that took them away.â
The assassin took a couple of steps forward before pausing again. This time they didnât turn when they spoke. They stayed facing their target, shoulders straight and taught, tail lashing.
âYou know they burned it down?â Their voice came out barely louder than a whisper. âRight after they took you and everyone else who benefited them out. They did it in the night while we were asleep. Most of them died.â
The soldierâs stomach clenched, almost like someone had taken their insides in a nauseating death grip. âIâŠI didnât know.â
âOf course not. You were busy preening.â
The soldier surged forward furiously, slick hand slipping off their leg. âYou donât know a thing about me! Iâve been doing all I can to save you! All of you!â
The assassin scoffed. âReally? And where are the fruits of your labor? Have you actually done anything?â
âItâs a long road to peace.â
âNot so long as youâd think.â
The assassin wrenched open the door to the carriage.
The soldier stumbled on their next step, falling to their knees a few feet away.
The child scrambled back against the back of the carriage, knobby, white breached knees drawn to his ridiculously large cravat.
âWhatâŠâ In a blink, the uncertainty was gone and the assassin hauled the child out of the carriage by the arm. âWhat is this?â
âThe crown prince.â The soldier dragged themselves a little closer and held up both hands cautiously.
âNo. No!â The assassin shook the prince in their fist causing him to whimper. âThe crown prince is grown. Heâs the pompous, pretty brat who gives all those puff speeches and insipid sneers.â
The soldier swallowed, not taking their eyes off their charge.
âThatâs what we would call a stand-in. A double. An assassin deterrent. If you thought he was the prince why did you track my carriage?â
âBecause I knew it would be you.â
âWho else is good enough to be the princeâs personal bodyguard? I know what I saw when the carriages left, but I knew, somehow, he would be with you.â Their gaze flicked down to the trembling, wet-eyed child in their handâhe was doing a remarkably good job keeping the majority of his emotions on the inside. âI still have to kill him. Child or not. This line has to end.â
âWait!â the soldier grimaced at their own abrupt movement, gripping their leg once again. âWait. JustâŠlet me show you something. Please.â
The assassin hesitated. âPut down the sword.â
The soldier dropped the heavy, gilded blade without hesitation.
âItâs about the kid. Can youâŠcan you bring him a little closer?â
The soldier was beginning to feel a little dizzy, but they had to hold on a little longer. For the kid. For [Assassin].
âIf this is a trap, I will gut you,â the assassin said, but they still took the few steps between them, transferring the point of their blade from the child to the soldierâs throat.
The soldier made brief eye contact with the prince. âForgive me, my liege.â
The young royal nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. He must have known what the soldier was about to do. He still felt humiliation over his differences, defects the other royals called them. The soldier was doing everything to cure those notions before they took too deep.
With a strong wrench either direction, the soldier ripped a large tear in the back of the princeâs trousers.
A black, tufted tail slipped out.
The assassin dropped him.
The soldier siezed the child up in their arms, scrambling on their rearend a few painful paces back before looking back at the assassinâs pale and confused expression.
Their mouth moved numbly. â[Assassin] meet [Prince]. The crown prince. His safety is not the only reason the royal has hid his identity with a double. He⊠Heâs not the queenâs, but he is the kingâs. That doesnât make him legitimate, but it does make him fit to rule. And with no other heirsâŠâ The soldier met the assassinâs eyes. âHeâs going to change everything. Heâs goingâŠheâs goingâŠâ Their voice cracked. âPlease.â
The assassin stared, predator eyes swimming with something unreadable. Mercy? Regret? Determination?
The soldier fumbled behind them for their abandoned sword. They werenât getting out of this by running.
The assassin took a step forward. They brought their blade in front of themselves just as the soldierâs fingers caught the end of their sword hilt. The soldier pulled the blade toward them, one arm shaking as they used the other to clutch their charge close. They raised the sword in front of themself, andâŠ
The assassin stabbed their short sword into the earth.
In moments, their old friend was knelt beside them, ripping a long piece of fabric from their tunic.
âRidiculous, stupid, noble-heartedâŠâ the rest was lost in a spew of unintelligible grumbling as the assassin wrapped the length of makeshift bandage taughtly around their leg. Their fingers moved fast and gruff, but they lingered a moment over the tie.
âI thought you changed. I thought you were like them.â
The soldier took a shuddering breath. âI have changed. But never like that. Iâd never betray what I know is right.â
âWhy are you such an incessant goody-two shoes?â The assassin chuckled lightly, giving their leg an awkward but playful shove before pushing to their feet.
âOne of us has to be,â the soldier joked nervously back.
The assassin yanked their sword free with a small spray of earth and leaves, wiping it briefly on the ground before sliding it back in its sheath.
A beat of silence passed as the assassin turned back toward them.
âIâll tell the guild the situation,â they finally said. âYouâŠmay see me again soon.â
Their tail flicked softly against the soldierâs ankle. It was light enough that it could have been an accident, but from what the soldier remembered, the assassin very rarely made accidentsâŠ
They smiled softly. âIâllâŠkeep an eye out.â
The assassin nodded and turned to the prince, bowing shortly. âMy liege.â
The future king opened their mouth to respond, but when nothing came out, they only nodded nervously back.
The assassin chuckled. âIâm not being forgiven so easily, am I?â
The prince huddled closer to the soldierâs chest.
âYeah, didnât think so.â
With one last nod, they turned on their heel and began the trek back into the trees. They only got a few steps before stopping again.
âI missed you.â It came so quiet the soldier barely caught it against the wail of wind in the branches. They did not wait for a response. With a last flick of their tail, they were gone.
The soldier stared after them, barely seeing the empty clearing in front them as they murmured a reply to the empty air.