Forever and Always

7 - Rumors

The tension in the royal training grounds was thicker than the sweat dripping from Cassandra's brow. She parried a clumsy blow from her sparring partner, a young guard named Harold, with a swift maneuver. Harold stumbled back, his face flushed with exertion and something less pleasant – disdain.

"Come on, Cassandra," he sneered, his voice dripping with a mockery that sent a shiver down her spine. "You used to be a lot faster. Did spending so much time with the alchemist slow down your reflexes?"

Cassandra gritted her teeth. Harold wasn't the first guard to make snide comments about her friendship with Varian. Rumors swirled through the castle, whispers of an inappropriate relationship, fueled by Varian's frequent visits and their shared interest in science.

"Varian has nothing to do with my reflexes," she retorted, her voice firm. "He's just... a friend."

Harold scoffed. "A friend, huh? A friend who can't even hold a sword properly?" He gestured to the worn satchel slung over Varian's shoulder, usually filled with his latest inventions. "More like a damsel in distress waiting for his knight in... well, whatever contraption he's tinkering with this week."

Cassandra saw red. She disarmed Harold with a swift maneuver, the training sword clattering to the ground. Pinning him to the mat with practiced ease, she leaned down, her voice low and dangerous.

"Listen here, Harold," she growled. "Varian may not be a warrior, but he's ten times the man you'll ever be. He's kind, he's brilliant, and he has a heart that shines brighter than any weapon."

Harold squirmed under her gaze, his snide remarks replaced by a mixture of fear and grudging respect. Cassandra released him, stepping back and allowing him to scramble to his feet.

"Maybe he's all those things," Harold mumbled, picking up his sword. "But a guard he ain't. And a lady-in-waiting needs a guard, not an alchemist."

Cassandra straightened her armor, her head held high. "Maybe," she said, her voice laced with a quiet defiance. "But what a lady-in-waiting needs most is someone who respects her, who sees beyond her title and appreciates her for who she truly is." She met Harold's gaze, a challenge flickering in her eyes. "And that," she concluded, "is something you clearly haven't figured out yet."

Turning away, she began to walk towards the edge of the training grounds, a heavy weight settling in her chest. Harold's words stung, a reminder of the disapproval and judgment that clouded their unconventional friendship. But the hurt was overshadowed by a fierce loyalty to Varian, a burning desire to defend his good heart against the whispers and prejudices that surrounded them.

As she reached the edge of the training grounds, a familiar figure emerged from the castle doorway. It was Varian, his hair windblown and a hopeful smile etched on his face. He stopped short when he saw her, his smile faltering slightly at the sight of her downcast expression.

Cassandra took a deep breath, forcing a smile. Maybe their path wouldn't be easy, and maybe they would face more of Harold's kind. But as she met Varian's gaze, a spark of determination ignited within her. They would face the whispers together, head-on, defying expectations and proving that love, like a skilled warrior, could fight for what it believed in.

The clang of metal echoed through the training grounds, a sharp counterpoint to Cassandra's ragged breaths. Harold, his face flushed with exertion and a hint of dawning fear, pressed his attack. But Cassandra, fueled by anger and a newfound determination to silence the whispers, parried his blows with a grace born of years of rigorous training.

Suddenly, a blur of motion caught her eye. Varian, who had been observing their sparring match with a concerned frown, moved with surprising agility. He snatched a spare practice sword from a nearby rack, his movements fluid and practiced. Before Harold could react, Varian stepped in between him and Cassandra, the tip of his sword glinting in the afternoon sun.