bloodrite

xxviii.

Rhaella has apparently just woken when Leanna enters her chambers. She flinches as the door swings open, and then cowers before Leanna's gaze. Terrified, her eyes filling with tears.

"It's time for you to rise," Leanna splays the contents of her arms on the bed. "Put these on."

"What?" Rhaella asks, voice shaking. Her watery eyes take in Leanna's appearance. Leather breastplate and Stormswaith at her hip. "Are you going to kill me?"

In all reality, it's a just question. Not entirely unfounded, for the Lady Paramount's appearance is something to be feared. Leanna, her ill mood finally breaking, sighs. She sinks onto the bed next to the clothes and pats them.

"No, my child. You have rotted in this room long enough. I'm going to train you."

"To do what?" Rhaella is still guarded. Still on edge.

"To be better than I ever was," Leanna answers. "My father taught me how to fight, and it was the only thing that helped me deal with my mother's death. It will help with the nightmares, too," she coaxes, voice finally breaking into gentleness.

"I don't want to fight."

"You don't have to, today. I still want you to put these on and come with me. To watch, for now."

"Do I have to?" Rhaella's lip begins to quiver.

"Yes, you do," Leanna answers, standing. Rhaella, dragging her feet, moves around the bed. She studies the clothes with a concerned eye. The pants and tunic, with the flexible leather breastplate that is a mirror of Leanna's own.

"Is this what you make Orlys and Aerion do?"

"I don't, but your father certainly does. Just be glad I didn't dump frigid water over you at the crack of dawn to wake you up."

Rhaella finally smiles slightly. She feels the rough clothes with her fingers. "Ola made these, didn't she?"

"Yes, so you better put them on before her dear old heart is broken."

"Fine," Rhaella smiles wider. "I'll be right out."

This will be good for them both, Leanna thinks. She has been idle with Stormswaith more often than not, and she knows her youth is fading fast. She won't be able to lift the sword the way she once had. Not so quickly, nor elaborately. The muscles in her back and arms had faded from disuse. She would need to rebuild them again, and this was the perfect opportunity. For Leanna, the mindless repetition of swordplay was something healing. It was like meditation, a calming of the mind.

She could only hope Rhaella would find the same results, when she came around to being comfortable with the idea. It might take a bit before then. That was why she brings Rhaella to the training yard today. For her daughter to watch her with her own blade and grow accustomed to it.

Orlys is already there, finishing his routine for the day before heading to the stables. He merely dips his head at his mother without breaking concentration. Rhaella flinches at the sound of his sword striking the swordsmaster's, the clash of metal ringing through the courtyard.

Leanna settles near the rack of training weapons, waiting for Orlys to finish. His forehead is covered with a sheen of sweat, dampening his dark curls. His chest is heaving as he overcorrects himself and the swordsmaster places a hit against his side. Breathing heavily, he falls back and leans on his sword.

"Watch your foot placement," the swordsmaster instructs, gesturing with his sword. Orlys dips his head and finally affords a glance at Leanna. Seeing the girl behind her, his face goes tense.

"Ser Orwel," Leanna greets.

"It appears you have a shadow, my Lady," Orwel cranes his neck to look at Rhaella.

"I don't believe you've had the pleasure of meeting my eldest daughter. This is Rhaella."

Orwel bends deeply at the waist. "Lady Rhaella," he addresses. "It's a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance. I was wondering when you would be joining us."

"You can be cross with me, Orwel."

"How old are you, Rhaella?" He inquires.

"Thirteen," she answers, voice quiet and reserved.

"Thirteen years too late, then," Orwel turns to Leanna. "Are we starting, then?"

"Rhaella is going to observe us today." Leanna draws Stormswaith. Orlys, smirking, gestures for Rhaella to come take a seat next to him.

She faces the aging swordsmaster, feeling the heaviness of the blade in her hand. Orwel is not as young as he once was, either. He was a young knight when Boremund began training Leanna. He had held a careful eye over her skills as she grew. Both of them maturing in skill and technique. Orwel has always been a formidable opponent, and she knows he will remain so.

Readying Stormswaith, she steps to face the swordsmaster.

Several long minutes later, sweating, Leanna draws. She's sore by the time Orwel raps her ribs with the flat of her blade, but the look on Rhaella's face makes it worth it. Beside Orlys, the young girl has slowly straightened. The light returning to her eyes, a bit of color blooming across her cheeks.

"Didn't think she could do that, did you?" Orlys asks her, nudging his sister. Leanna sheathes Stormswaith and stretches out a hand. Rhaella hesitates for only a second before standing and moving towards Orwel.

The knight looks down at her. Appraising her. Leanna knows he is breaking down her movements, her mental stamina. How well she would handle a blade and how he could best teach her. It was what he had done with Aerys, and Orlys. Now, he was doing it with Aerion and he would do the same with Rhaella.

"We start tomorrow," he informs her. "Be here at dawn with your brothers."