A/N: Hey there you fellow degenerates. Here's a quick little pronunciation guide for some tricky names:
Mikaela Forsberg ; mee - ka - ella fors - berg
Kyros Argyros ; kee -ross Ar - gee - ross
Alanis ; Like 'Atlantis' without the 't's
Egreya ; Eh - grey - ya
Enjoy!
Mikaela
"I'm bored." I said to my father as we watched the flailing of the men in the ring. His clear eyes rounded on me, the corner of his mouth twitched with repressed amusement.
"Will you be stepping into the ring yourself then? I'm sure the people would be inspired seeing their Prince participating."
The audience cheered politely at another ridiculous set of exchanges performed by the two in the ring.
"My old sparring partner is visiting. It's sure to be more entertaining than this incessant floundering." I rolled my eyes at the superficial spectacle. "Have him prepared for the next match." I said with no formality as I stood up and walked to the stairs leading down from the royal viewing box.
"How impertinent." My father muttered before I strolled out of earshot.
*
"Mikaela, this is Kyros. General Argyros' eldest son."
*
Shing!
Steel clashed loudly and my arms shuddered under the explosive force my opponent applied. My muscles burned as they fought hard to resist the full might of Kyros. It was all I could do, to parry and redirect but he was forcing me back. I'd be cornered sooner or later.
Pitch-black hair hung loose around his nape and clung to his nut-brown skin with the sweat he had quickly built up in the summer heat. We both wore the standard training fatigues for palace guards, a sleeveless black tank top tucked into black combat pants which in turn was tucked into a pair of polished leather combat boots. The clothes themselves were armoured which was why both of us hadn't bothered with additional wrist guards or shin guards.
His dark eyes held razor focus, however I recognized the excitement in them too. The beginnings of a familiar smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
The smile pissed me off. With a burst of outraged strength, I managed to push back. Not enough to move someone as unnecessarily large as Kyros but enough to shift his sword back ever so slightly, allowing me to break out of the deadlock and slide my sword along his until his strike was redirected. It wasn't perfect but I'd bought enough time to follow my sword out of the new path of his slice and away from the edge of the arena where I'd been almost cornered.
By the time Kyros turned around to face me his old mischievous grin was plastered almost ear to ear on his face. "You've improved." He really meant it too. How irritating.
"As if it'll ever be enough." I rolled my eyes. I took a breath and a new stance with both my hands gripping the sword tightly in front of me. Kyros mirrored me. Of course he would.
I made the first move. Sprinting quickly to try and get inside his guard, I raised my sword parallel to my nose to deflect his first strike. Before our swords clashed once more, I dropped to my knees, the impact was heavy, but I ignored it. Kyros's sword went sailing way too close over my head causing my stomach to drop ever so slightly into my posterior. I kept my composure and refused to stop moving. My muscles tensed as I pulled my sword back past my waist and then struck out with the speed of a viper aiming straight for his neck.
YOU ARE READING
Royals & Wretches (+18) (BL)
Romance"Isn't it blasphemous that the future King is kneeling in front of me right now?" I ignored his questions and shot back. I didn't move away though, in fact I sat back, resting the back of my head against the throne as I took in his determined multi...
