Collaterals

Young Blood

Trigger warning: blood, gore, and profanity.

Muscle memory had her standing, sword in hand, eyes scanning the scope of the hall. She saw nothing but chaos, at first, nobles and dancers and merchants running about, as though they could escape...whatever it was. But there was only one way into this hall, and it had been locked. 

It was not Leila's first time seeing a person die. But it was certainly the first time she'd seen a man, a large full-grown man, wrapped in enough finery to feed a family, be cut down like the bark of a tree, in one fell swoop. Everything stopped: her breathing halted, her hands slackened, her shoulder dropped, and her eyes remained pinned on the ground, the body, and the blood pooling around it. 

Then someone was pushing her back, "Move, Princess!"

Tainish. The words were Tainish, and the voice was familiar and— suddenly Leila was looking at the back of Captain's head. He was pushing her back, behind him, sword in his hand.  It snapped something inside her, and suddenly she was pulling at his arm, looking past him, at the crowd now growing closer. Where were the guards? Who were the perpetrators? And what did they want?

"What's happening?" She shouted so he could hear her despite the mayhem.

But a large man stalked towards the Captain, who clutched his sword tightly as he pushed her further back, "Stay back."

The glint in their perpetrator's eyes was far too confident, the type of arrogance that came easy to large men, and easier to one who did not know who the Captain was. Captain Gawaine had spent years on the front lines, shining Glory upon the Tainish name, expanding the Empire at the command of the Emperor himself. It was almost sad, knowing that such an easy assurance stood no chance. 

And he didn't. Three calculated strikes had the man bleeding and incapacitated. Captain barely flinched, barely turned so that she only glimpsed the blood splattered on him as he grabbed her forearm, and began to pull her towards the mayhem, "Stay near. Strike whoever steps towards you. We have to cut our way out."

Cut our way...cut...humans. Cut humans down, like the tree trunks of an entangled jungle. he was dragging her, now, but Leila's stomach was turning. The sound of steel— it was easy for her ear to pick up; she'd spent a lifetime learning to cultivate its chime. Which meant fights were breaking out, all through the hall. Which meant— 

 Leila dug her heels into the ground, "My brother. We need to find my brother."

She began to push past him, but he grabbed her, hard enough for it to hurt as he sneered, pushing her against the nearest wall, "I made a pledge to get you home in one piece."

But Leila was no damsel in distress. Captain had made sure she never would be. besides, this was her home. And so it was not hard to straighten, to sneer, "And I made my pledge of fealty."

And before he could argue, before he could give voice to the worries threatening to spill into her own mind, she hauled her arm out his grasp, moving into the crowd.

And that was most of what she did, avoiding being trampled, slithering through the crowd by intuition alone, until...She was in the midst of it. She could not see the men. Not really. She knew only that they lunged at her, that suddenly she was swinging her sword, countering move after move.

Eventually, something shifted, the crowd splitting into those who fought, and those who didn't. Their guests huddled together, moving away from one fight to find themselves at the cusps of another. The tables had turned over, food mixed into blood so that she knew not what soaked her slippers. She payed them no mind, blood pounding into her very ears against the whirl of her heart. 

They had no names, the perpetrators. And in her mind, they had only the form of  fighters, ones she was beginning to tell were...untrained. Their strikes were haphazard, and the marks they found were unintentional, leaving them pleasantly surprised, grinning like fools. 

And when the crowd had scattered away from them...Her attacker laughed. Leila didn't know why, but when his eyes trickled down her body. A woman. He saw a young woman, in a ball gown. Good. let him see that, then.

He struck, and Leila moved out the way, skirt spinning in a halo that distracted him so that she could counter with her sword. She missed his throat by a hair, and it left Leila almost offended. Then terrified. Close, she was close and she had to put distance between them and his hand was raised and his sword was drawn and moving right to her thighs and: fabric tore, and the tug of her clothes had her heart racing. Hit, she'd been hit but...He staggered away, eyes wide, sword glinting, clear of fresh blood. Leila glanced down at her legs, surprised she could still stand after such a horrible blow but: the Hand laughed. Her skirt, structured and wide as it was, had saved her quiet the nasty blow, her attacker having misjudged just how far her legs were from the outside of her now tattered skirt. And now...she stalked towards her prey.

They came quickly, thereafter. One after the other so that she was a panting mess, striking down one perpetrator after the other. The Captain had made his own way to her so that she saw him when she turned, flanking her, taking down those who wished to harm her back.

And when she wasn't swinging her sword...Leila looked around, trying to see past the mayhem. Her ears picked up on the words, 

"The Prince!Find the Crown Prince!"

To her left, the sound was to her left and closer to the door. Leila moved.

Zarqa had left. She was safe, Leila thought. Yes, she was safe and...and Boody. Where was Boody? Had his governess abandoned him? Would these men come for him? Who did they want? Ali?  And what of Haitham? Had he clutched his sword and fought? Had he hidden away? 

Or was he already—

Leila's gaze hardened. There, back to back: Khaled and Ali, striking, killing, and falling back towards one another. 

"He is safe, let us go and find you someplace secure—" Captain was panting, years as tutor and not tutored, years of aging, all haven taken their toll. He must be hurting. It did not stop him from pushing her away, suddenly, his sword blocking another from her neck. Leila stepped forward, but the attacker was already wailing on the ground. 

Captain did not bother kill him, and when he turned to look: Leila had already made her way to the fight, to Ali.