Paul Atreides

Fighting Part 2

A/n: If you're confused at some of the fighting, go to https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0lZYKVl49Ac and go to the time stamp 0:41. Black Widow's two moves then are what I attempted to write out hahaha also i think i have a recurring theme of tragic parental or family deaths, i probably need to ease up on the tragic factor with my stories...

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'Y/n, no-' Duncan started.

'I'll do it.' Paul stood. Gasps erupted from the stands, nobody expected Paul to accept your challenge.

'What? Paul, no, you shouldn't.' Duncan shook his head.

'Duncan, I'll do it. I want to.' Paul walked off the stands, quickly followed by Duncan, who was listing reasons why that idea was dumb. Paul walked down and into the arena, he had changed into a sparring suit quickly beforehand.

You sat on a hump, your finger gingerly drawing a pattern in the dirt. Swirling like your thoughts. You had never seen Paul fight, what if he beat you? Or, more importantly, what if you beat him? What light would that put on you? Would people think you hated him, because you didn't hate him, after last night you just found him... annoying.

You saw Paul's shoes step in front of you. Standing up, you were almost a head shorter than he was. His dark eyes watched yours as you scanned his body. His limbs were lanky, though he looked as though he could have a death grip.

'Duke.' You bowed your head.

'Miss Y/l/n.' He bowed his as well.

'Positions!' Duncan's hesitant voice called everyone to silence as you and Paul stood about five meters apart, facing each other.

You clutched onto your long knife in your left hand and activated your shield. Paul did the same. You rolled your neck and loud cracks sounded, echoing through the arena. Paul's eyes widened for a split second, clearly not expecting such a loud noise to come from your neck.

Smirking, you welcomed his blade, and he welcomed yours in reply.

'Fight!' Duncan shouted.

You and Paul slowly circled around each other for a minute, neither trusting the other. Suddenly, you lurched forward, your blade slashing across Paul's thigh. The shield flashed red for a split second, indicating you would've sliced him. In return, as you where down low, Paul slammed his elbow into your shoulder, making you fall over. As you where down on the ground, Paul pointed his blade to your throat.

'Do you yield?' He asked calmly.

You glared at him, your eyes dark and haunting. You quickly flicked your blade up in an attempt to twirl it around his, flicking it out of his hand and getting rid of it, but instead, his other hand caught yours and he threw it away, it bounced over a hump and landed on the other side. You got out from under him and grabbed the knife and tossed it over the wall.

'What?' Paul was confused as to why you got rid of your own blade.

'It's the rules, Sire.' You explained. 'You lose your blade, it goes over the wall. In battle you won't always be able to get your blade back, learn to fight one without it.'

Paul just smirked, now having the advantage over you. He felt as though you were doing this on purpose. But then he heard snickers from people behind him. Paul turned around, slightly confused. He spun around just in time to see you taking a few quick steps towards him.

That didn't faze you. You just slid under his open legs and punched him in the nuts. Paul fell over, not from pain, the shield protected him from that, but from the sheet impact and surprise of your movement. As he got up, so did you. You sprinted towards him, used a hump as a vault, launching yourself feet-forward. Your legs trapped his neck in between them and you thrust yourself to the side. You landed on your feet while Paul was tossed on the ground.