✶|𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺|✶ 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘐𝘐𝘐 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯

✶𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 18✶

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Ties and Disagreements

――✴✯✴――

Year 129

Westeros

Starfall, Dorne

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the training grounds of Starfall. The rhythmic thud of Serena's wooden sword striking the practice dummy echoed across the field. Her strikes were fierce, driven by a relentless determination, each blow harder than the last.

Sir Edmund, watched her from a distance. His brow furrowed with concern as he observed the young lady, her face glistening with sweat, her movements precise but tense, as if she were battling more than just the lifeless target in front of her.

He finally approached, the crunch of his boots on the gravel barely audible over the sound of her sword. Stopping a few feet away, he spoke gently but firmly.

"Lady Serena." He called out, waiting until she paused mid-strike and glanced his way, her chest rising and falling with labored breaths. "Don't you think it's time for a break? You've been out here every day for the past week..."

Serena tightened her grip on the wooden hilt and shook her head. 

"I'm fine." She replied curtly, turning back to the dummy and delivering another sharp blow.

Edmund frowned, stepping closer. 

"Forgive me, my lady, but you've been pushing yourself too hard. Training is important, yes, but if you continue like this... You'll collapse from exhaustion before you even draw a real sword...."

Serena's jaw tightened at his words, her eyes fixed on the dummy as if it were the very embodiment of her failure from a week ago. Her strikes slowed, but the tension in her body didn't ease.

"I've been eating well and sleeping enough. I'm just... relieving some stress." She returned to the dummy, preparing for another strike, her muscles coiled with tension.

Sir Edmund opened his mouth to protest, but before he could speak, a familiar voice echoed across the training grounds.

"And what exactly is causing so much stress?"

Serena froze, her hand tightening instinctively around the hilt. She turned slowly to see her father, striding across the field. 

His presence was commanding as ever, his dark eyes keen and watchful, taking in his daughter with a mixture of concern and curiosity. Walking beside him was Cassian, whose sharp gaze softened slightly when it landed on Serena.

The young Dayne sighed softly, the weight of their eyes pressing down on her shoulders. She met her father's gaze and answered with a practiced neutrality. 

"Nothing..." She said, her voice steady but guarded.

Lord Dayne raised a brow, clearly unconvinced, while Cassian remained silent, observing the exchange.

"Nothing?" Her father repeated, folding his arms over his chest. "I've seen you out here day after day, pushing yourself harder than usual. That doesn't seem like nothing  to me."