The Blood Heir

Factorem de bellator

"Relax your hand amica mea."

My love.

Praelia scowled at her father and he smirked in response knowing that the nickname would make her focus more. William adjusts, tightening his grip ever so slightly on his sword. Ferrum iustitia, they call it, meaning iron justice. That was one of the many things that her and her father has found joy in. Latin. She didn't know how to describe it, but it touched them in a way that no other language could. It might be because it is the native language of the Ancients.

Praelia longingly gazes at her fathers sword, desperately yearning to feel the weight of it in her own palm, to parry, block and have every muscle in her body ache from its glorious weight. The hues of  blue mesmerises her, as does the handles in the form of dragon heads, the symbolism of the beasts, showing how truly powerful it can be. The carvings of pattern gleamed in the sunlight, having been polished multiple times, as it should, being a family heirloom for a century. Her own weapon looked dull in comparison, having just a simple black hilt.

"Remember, swordplay is all about evading your opponent rather than blocking. Again," he reminds, snapping her out of her daydream.

Her lips quirk into a smile as she mentally reminds herself to only elude. Nothing else.

William lunges at her but she quickly turns to her side and dances out of his range. He lightly nods his head in approval as he approaches again, this time catching his blade in the sleeve of her shirt when she tries to turn again, creating a rip in the material. She attempts to roundhouse kick him but he dodged to the right and uses the hilt of his blade to jab at her abdomen, quickly but effectively. Praelia hisses quietly in pain, feeling it begin to throb. That was definitely going to leave a bruise. Her mother would not be happy if she saw that.

She swings around swiftly, bringing her sword down as it clashes with the other, sending an echoing ring in the forest. Her father quickly pulls away and lands another blow to her face this time, smirking at her. She hisses yet again in frustration and he pauses to apologise. Praelia takes advantage of the moment of hesitation and sweeps him off of his feet. He gasps in surprise and lifts his arms in surrender as she presses her sword against his throat. 

"Well played Prae, tomorrow I won't go so easy on you."

She scowls at him and pulls her weapon away, extending her hand to help him stand up. Will's golden hair stuck to his forehead and dirt was scattered across his tanned skin. He tried to brush off what clung to his crumpled white shirt and yelps in surprise as he looks up to see his wife and Praelia's mother, Melisandre, stalk her way towards them. 

Her dark curls were harshly braided into a bun to the side of her head. Praelia hated having her hair tied up like that. She wondered how her mother could do that willingly. Nonetheless, she was curious of how youthful Melisandre looks with her smooth, umber skin tone, sharp cheekbones and jawline. The only "aged" looking thing about her was her eyes. There was a certain tiredness in it that made her look older. 

"William," she snarls, "I thought I told you to stop teaching her these ridiculous lessons! Look at her! You cut her cheek! That is not ladylike! This is completely pointless!" She throws her hands in the air in exasperation.

Praelia chuckles at her mother's comment about not being ladylike, even though her name translates to warrior  in Latin. After a moment she reaches up to her face and just as mother said, there was a cut from her right cheek bone down to her mouth. Her eyes widen in shock as she pulls her hand away to see the amount of blood that's spilling out. She could feel the warmth of it trickling down her throat now that it was brought to her attention. She simply tugs at her sleeve until it rips off and applies it to the wound with pressure to stop the blood from flowing.

"Clean yourselves up quickly, we have a visitor tonight," she growls, rolling her eyes and storming off with a huff as her husband gives her a shrug and sheepish smile.

"Go to Alyx, she'll heal it in time for dinner and end your mother's little tantrum," he murmurs, gently pushing her in encouragement.

Praelia giggles at her fathers statement about her mother's tantrum and makes her way to Alyx's cottage. The walk through the forest was serene, as usual, with small birds chirping to each other, the rustling of the hunter green leaves and the creak of the aged branches as it sways from the strength of the wind. It was calming, distracting her from the constant throbbing of her body.

When she reached Alyx's cottage she lays her eyes on the familiar mossy stone walls, cracked from the force of nature, faded timber pillars and curtained windows, with little holes on it, most likely from the work of moths.

She loudly knocks on the door and sticks her chin up in pride as Alyx sighs quietly whilst opening the door. Her chestnut hair was slicked back into a pony tail with strands of grey evident on her scalp. Her tanned, wrinkled skin was adorned with freckles, especially on her face, from training in the harshness of the sunlight. Her eyes were a shockingly bright violet but she knew how they would darken to the colour of lightning when it rages with thunder. Her body frame was small, with the brown trousers she wore cuffed at her ankles obviously being too long for her like her puff sleeved, white shirt. Even though it was a very unpopular and highly discouraged opinion for women to wear clothes originally intended for men, she did not care at all and nor did Praelia. That was something they both shared.

"William is going to be the death of Mel, you know that she hates your spars," she scolds.

Nonetheless she gestures for her to follow her inside, pulling out an oak chair for Prae to sit on. Taking the invitation she plops herself down onto the seat with a wince, pulling the crimson stained sleeve away from her face and holding her stomach. Alyx fights the urge to tease her and closes her eyes instead, gently placing her hands on the injuries, flowing her healing energy into them. A strong violet glow, just as vibrant as Alyx's eyes, illuminates Prae's skin as she sighs to the comforting wave of power. Alyx laughs to herself after she's finished, making her way to the kitchen to prepare some food, knowing that Praelia was way too prideful to even say thank you.

"Would you like to stay for a meal?" She offers.

"I want to, but I must decline," Praelia responds, "we have visitors coming over soon and mother would fret even more so if I come any later."

Alyx chuckles, understanding how one of her oldest friends will always worry too much over the silliest things.

"Give Mel my love then, and good luck to you, you have to wear a dress tonight."  

She didn't have to see Praelia's face to know that her nose would have wrinkled in disgust, having been reminded that she would be forced to wear that uncomfortable clothing again. Prae looks out the window, noticing the sun setting already and bids her farewell, seeing herself out of Alyx's home and hurrying to her own.

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Agh that was scary! I'll probably edit it as my writing improves but I think that this went a lot better than I had originally expected it to be! Hopefully this account will grow so if you guys could recommend or share mine to your friends or others that would be amazing!

Enjoy and have fun! Vote, share, comment!

MWAH!

- k :))