Short Stories for You

A Midnight Spar (18+)

The clang of metal against metal, a small misstep, then nothing but the sharp flash of pain and frustration and I was on the ground again.

"Watch that slow foot of yours." I picked myself up off the floor and wiped the blood from my cheek on my tunic. My mother would be angry when she saw it later but in the heat of the moment, none of that mattered.

I just wanted to bury my sword in the bitch.

I was off the floor in an instant, closing the distance between us in two quick steps. I thrusted with perfect form, ready to finally--just once--feel the taste of her blood against my blade. She moved, a relaxed and simple sidestep as if it was the easiest thing in the world, and I went tumbling off-kilter. Then there was another stab of pain as the tip of her saber poked me in the ass.

An uproar of laughter from the far end of the open room echoed tauntingly. I turned to see Ayana doubled over, clutching her flowery bodice in laughter. "Ayana!" Her sister snapped, silencing the laughter. Aeria walked over to her, scolding her quietly.

It was too late, though. I clenched my fists around the grip of the sword, my knuckles turning white, as her laughter kept resounding in my head. I would forever be plagued by the sound of the girl of my dream's little sister laughing at me while a sword pierced my ass. What kind of prince was I?

"I'll meet you back home." Aeria whispered to her sister, casting a furtive glance at the young prince. "Stay away from the bazaar!" She intoned with a serious glare. "I've heard whispers that the apothecary has been known to capture beautiful young girls and send them to ugly fates." She whispered the last two words, as if the walls of the castle had ears.

"I'd like to see him try." Ayana beamed, flashing a small dagger from inside a fold of her bodice. "I'd cut his cock off." Aeria giggled and watched as her younger sister scampered down the hall, then walked back to where the prince still sat, clutching his sword.

"Please Lord, pardon my sister's vulgarity." She curtsied, her golden curls falling into her face as she bowed. It was in these moments, when she looked like the perfect picture of a lady, that Prince Dhiago found himself so conflicted. Her alabaster skin flush with embarrassment, her necklace glinting subtle between the valley of her breasts--it was enough to make his heart quicken.

He knew that he couldn't have her, that he was promised to another and that he had responsibilities to hold. He knew all of this and had known it since he was old enough to realize what having his last name meant. Still, sometimes, during small moments like these, he found himself looking at her from the corner of his eye and not giving a blackhog's ass about the splintered kingdoms he was fated to rule.

"Might I ask," she said blushing, "what the prince is staring at?"

He snapped back to reality seamlessly, never letting on the fantasies that he'd just envisioned. "A rare creature, indeed. How is it that you're so beautiful and dovelike, yet still a better swordsman than I?"

Her cheeks turned an even darker, hotter shade of red--which the prince found immensely attractive. "You're too kind, Lord. If I was a better swordsman than you, though I think that still is yet to be determined, it would only be because I'm older and more experienced than you."

"Right--perhaps one day, I'll catch up to you," Prince Dhiago said as he rose from the floor, neglecting to brush the dust and dirt from his robes. He tossed the sabre against the weapons rack and it landed with a powerful clang.

"Perhaps," Aeria began lowly, her eyes downcast, "you would catch up faster if we started meeting here at midnight also. For a nightly spar....to better teach you of course, my liege." The prince stopped in his tracks, his ears perking up at the sound of her offer.