Burning Desires

Part 1

A small group of young soldiers trained on a plain in a small clearing, practicing their swordsmanship in different areas as their instructor watched with arms folded, observing with curiosity. Amongst the group, two young soldiers, Rhys and Fiona, glared at each other relentlessly. After a couple of hours of nonstop training, the instructor finally called a break. The soldiers sat on the ground, panting as they recovered.

Rhys looked up at Fiona as they rested, giving her an obviously annoyed look. "What are you staring at, idiot? Do you think you're so much better at swordplay just because you won a few practice matches? Don't give me that dumb look..."

Rhys scoffed, glaring back. "What? Don't even try making it seem like I'm the bad guy here. You're just as annoying as usual."

"At least I don't act like I'm superior just because I know a few fancy tricks," Fiona fired back, scowling. "If you spent more time paying attention instead of making a fool out of yourself, maybe you'd be a little better off."

"I don't need a lecture from someone who sucks at everything but shooting," Rhys retorted, pointing his sword at her with a smirk. "And you know I'm better than you at swordplay, so why don't you just give up already?"

Rhys's jaw tightens, his eyes narrowing. "And maybe if you weren't so busy trying to prove you're the best, you'd notice that you're not as perfect as you think."

Their instructor's sharp whistle signals the end of the break, but the tension between them lingers. As the group resumes their training, Rhys and Fiona continue to steal heated glances at each other, their movements more aggressive and precise than before.

When the session finally ends, the soldiers disperse to cool down and clean their equipment. The training grounds were deserted, the setting sun casting long shadows across the clearing. Fiona heads towards a secluded training room by the trees, her mind still fuming from the earlier exchange. Rhys follows her, his steps determined.

"Hey," he calls out, his voice low but intense. Fiona turns to face him, her expression a mix of irritation and curiosity.

"What do you want now?" she snaps, crossing her arms defensively.

Rhys closes the distance between them, his eyes locked on hers. "I want to settle this. Right here, right now."

Fiona's heart races, her breath hitching. "What do you mean?"

"You think you're better than me? I've proven myself over and over again, but you don't want to admit it because you can't accept defeat." Fiona rolled her eyes. "You're just a big, dumb fool who can't even swing a sword correctly."

"Oh yeah? Care to test that theory?" Rhys mocked, raising his sword and his hand in challenge. "You can prove me wrong any time, sweetie."

Fiona's heart raced as she glared at Rhys, her grip tightening around the hilt of her sword. "You're insufferable," she spat. "You think you know everything, don't you?"

Rhys's smirk widened, his eyes glinting with amusement. "I know enough to get under your skin," he replied, his tone infuriatingly calm. "And judging by your reaction, I'd say I'm pretty good at it."

Without another word, Fiona raised her sword, her eyes narrowing with determination. Rhys mirrored her movement, his own sword coming up in a fluid motion. The clearing around them seemed to fade away as they focused solely on each other, the tension crackling in the air.

With a sudden burst of speed, Fiona lunged forward, her sword aimed at Rhys's chest. He deflected the blow effortlessly, his smirk never faltering. They moved together in a deadly dance, their swords clashing with a metallic ring that echoed through the deserted training grounds.

Fiona attacked with a series of quick, precise strikes, her movements fueled by her frustration and anger. Rhys met her blow for blow, his own strikes calculated and controlled. Their swords flashed in the fading light, each clash sending sparks flying.

"You'll have to do better than that," Rhys taunted, sidestepping another of Fiona's attacks. "Is that all you've got?"

Fiona growled in frustration, her eyes blazing with determination. She swung her sword in a wide arc, forcing Rhys to step back. Seizing the opportunity, she pressed her advantage, driving him towards the edge of the clearing.

Rhys's smirk faded slightly as he focused on defending against Fiona's relentless assault. She was faster than he had anticipated, her strikes coming with a ferocity that left little room for counterattack. But he was no novice, and he quickly adapted to her aggressive style.

With a deft twist of his wrist, Rhys deflected one of Fiona's strikes, sending her sword off course. He used the momentum to step inside her guard, his sword aimed at her side. Fiona barely managed to dodge, her heart pounding in her chest.

Their movements grew more fluid, more synchronized, as they fought. The air around them seemed to sizzle with intensity, each clash of their swords a testament to their skill and determination. Sweat dripped down their faces, their breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

Fiona's eyes never left Rhys's, her determination unwavering. She knew she had to find a way to break through his defences, to prove that she was his equal. With a fierce cry, she launched into a series of rapid strikes, her sword a blur of motion.

Rhys met her with equal intensity, his own strikes coming faster and harder. They moved as one, their swords dancing in a deadly rhythm. The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them locked in a battle that went beyond mere rivalry.

In a sudden, desperate move, Fiona aimed a powerful strike at Rhys's shoulder. He deflected it, but the force of the blow sent him stumbling back. Seizing the opportunity, Fiona lunged forward, her sword aimed at his chest.

Rhys dodged at the last moment, his body twisting to the side. He used the momentum to sweep Fiona's legs out from under her, sending her crashing to the ground. He quickly followed, his sword aimed at her throat.

But Fiona was ready. She rolled to the side, her own sword coming up to block his. They grappled on the ground, their swords locked in a deadly embrace. Their faces were inches apart, their breaths mingling in the cool evening air.

"You think you can beat me?" Fiona growled, her eyes blazing with defiance.

Rhys's smirk returned, his eyes dark with determination. "I don't think, I know," he replied, his voice low and intense.

With a surge of strength, Fiona broke free, rolling to her feet. She swung her sword in a wide arc, forcing Rhys to leap back. They stood facing each other, their chests heaving, their eyes locked in a fierce stare.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still. Then, with a mutual understanding, they launched into one final, desperate attack. Their swords clashed with a resounding ring, the force of the blow sending vibrations up their arms.

In the end, it was Rhys who gained the upper hand. With a swift, fluid motion, he disarmed Fiona, sending her sword flying across the clearing. He stepped forward, his sword aimed at her throat, his eyes filled with a mix of triumph and respect.

Fiona stood her ground, her chest heaving, her eyes never leaving his. "This isn't over," she whispered, her voice filled with determination.

Rhys's smirk softened into a smile, his eyes locking onto hers. "No," he agreed, his voice low and filled with promise. "It's just beginning."

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~ Reet