THE SWORD'S DANCE | HYUNBIN

❀palatial pines❀

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ THE SUN BEATS DOWN heavily on the third day of the tournament, shining through the canopy of the trees. The crowd and the competitors  drip with sweat, but are enthusiastic nonetheless.

Changbin has never really understood why the kingdom gets so excited over the summer's fighting tournament. An entire month dedicated to watching men fight? The festivities and craft or food stands are also a vital tradition, but get not even a shred of the attention the fighting gets.

He likes watching people fight, but only so he can advance his own skills. Changbin gets no joy from watching desperate men tear each other apart for some fame and gold. He only enters the competition each year for two reasons.

First, fighting with others is the best way to sharpen his own skills. He can learn new techniques and styles.

Second, he needs to beat Hyunjin. He won last year, but that's not enough. The prince is his only worthy opponent, the only one who has a fifty-fifty chance of beating him.

Changbin isn't normally a competitive person. He'll play into the game, but not care who wins or not— he'll still learn, nonetheless. But something about the prince makes him want to win, makes him desire the gilded trophy. Maybe it's the arrogance in his face, the spoiled frowns he makes whenever something doesn't go his way, or maybe the fact that he's so beautiful it hurts.

He's becoming just as bad as Hyunjin.

Changbin can see the prince now, intently watching the current match going on. The sun outlines his side profile— regal and princely, with a tall nose, full lips, and thick eyebrows. Utterly distracting from the snobbish person that he is.

And yet, the knight can't peel his eyes off of Hyunjin. He blames it on the boringness of the fight currently happening. Every one and awhile, he glances at them— two me around his age— but it isn't entertaining, nor is he learning anything. They're not bad, but not good, with basic moves and no extra flair to their style.

Looking at Hyunjin is just more interesting.

Until he blinks, and a man wielding a pitchfork charges at the prince.

Black hair tinged with grey streaks that seem out of place with his smooth face, the man raises his makeshift weapon up, ready to strike. The pitchfork is tinted reddish from rust, but its three twin points are sharpened. And descending straight for Hyunjin's head.

Changbin reacts before he can think. He snatches a sword from the man next to him, ignoring a frustrated, "Hey! My weapon!" From then, it's muscle memory. The rest of his surroundings— the tournament, the forest, the panicking people— all fade to a multicolored blur until all he can see is the attacker.

He can immediately tell that the man is an untrained swordsman with how flawed his grip is on the pitchfork. He holds it like he's going to stab dirt, not a person— but his calloused grip is strong, nonetheless. Dark eyes steam with anger when Changbin darts in front of Hyunjin at the last moment, borrowed sword clanging against the tarnished metal pitchfork. The attacker prepares to strike again, but his arm shakes.

Changbin swipes at the base of the pitchfork, unbalancing the weapon. Not trained for battle, the man can only watch as the pitchfork catapults out of his grip. Next thing he knows, Changbin is on top of him, knees pressing his sides into the moist soil. The royal guards assisting the event cuff him moments later.

The knight stands up, wiping dirt stains off of his shins. Hyunjin is nowhere in sight, and he assumes that the prince got spooked and ran off. Just the thing a timid prince would do, crawl back to the stone walls of the castle when something threatens his life.