One in the Same

Chapter Three

   She knew the crowd was screaming around her. She knew her father was cradling her mother to his chest as Clodagh all but sobbed and screamed out loud. She knew her own handmaidens were clinging to each other as well. Every man woman and child was watching Cat as she filled her dead lungs with the sweet taste of the air around her. Dirt, vegetation, and the copper warmth of drying blood. Her taste buds were alive as her chest rose and fell in inhale and exhale. She could even taste Cathal as well. The taste was bitter and revolting. More dirty than clean. Where a mortal man would taste of salt from sweat, he tasted of blood, shit and piss. As if he had spent these last few weeks rolling with pigs in a mud hole. Is this what I want to go to bed with every night? Is this what I will lay with for the rest of my days? Nil. She made that decision long before her boots touched the dirt of the tourney grounds. Loose curls blew lazily in the breeze that surrounded her. She felt the wind tugging at the braid that ran almost the length of her back. She watched his movement. The way he treated his stewards and squires. It was almost pathetic and sad. The way the boys shied away from him. The way the older ones wouldn't look him in the eyes. Be feared, aye. She thought to herself now. But beloved just the same. And these people love you not. What was a king without love? What was a man without the support from his people? He more than obviously had none from any. And how am I to ask my father's bannermen to go to battle behind this rud? How am I to lead with that by my side? It simply wouldn't happen. Not only did Cat owe that to herself. She owed it to her people.
   Cathal wasn't attractive by any means. Cat normally respected men with less than half the scars Cathal had. But his only disgusted her. He was a bruit and nothing more. Not meant for an RI. To a certain extent, somewhere deep within her, Cat did want kindness and a gentleness to her betrothed. A man that would take her by the hand and lead her through a field of wildflowers, take one up, and place it in her hair. A man that would make her smile and laugh with jokes. And when he took her, it would be more like giving herself to him. Unlike the times she had fucked with men down at the docs fresh from sea. Sure, she loved the way they pulled her hair and lusted for the red handprint on her arse. But what she wanted...craved if truth be told, was a man to remind her she was a woman.
   There was none of that in this rud.
   "Caitlin Ó Catháin, banphrionsa na riochta." The steward called out holding his hand out towards Cat. The crowd roared and cheered. Shouts of "cat beag" "phrionsa" and many more rang through the air. Cat held her head high and seemed to puff her chest out without meaning to.
   "Cathal Ó Donnabháin," the steward announced with much less enthusiasm. The crowd replied with boos and insults. The steward smiled nervously and swallowed. Cat could taste his anxiety from where she stood. The sweat beading on his mortal brow. The wild, erratic beating of his heart. Almost rhythmic enough for Cat to dance to. She pitied him. "As tradition has stated. Cathal and Caitlin will battle each other for na banphrionsa hand until one of them yields. May the gods grant them both." He bowed gracefully and moved back from the grounds as the crowd roared again.
   Cat lifted her right foot to balance on the ball, rubbing it into the ground. A rush of dirt filled her senses again. The hilts of her twin short blades felt as comfortable in her hands like a play toy to a child. Cathal stared her down from across the field. She felt him poking and prodding for her mind. She smirked to herself. She was curious to hear what he had to say, yes, but that didn't mean she was just going to let him in like that. Cat glanced at her father. He looked her dead in the eyes and gave a single nod of his head. The match was on.
   Cat's eyes immediately returned to Cathal. He turned his head and spat before lifting his mace into both hands and ran towards her. To Cat, the move was almost as if she were water dancing down at the river as a child. A simple pivot on the ball of her foot and she spun out of Cathal's reach. But he was well within her's. As she spun, she slashed with her right blade and braced for perry with her left. Not her most comfortable position, but effective none the less. Her blow landed its target and a bright crimson sash formed from his shoulder to his forearm. The crowd roared louder than before. And why shouldn't they? Their princess drew first blood. Cat steadied herself again and turned to fully face her foe, smirking still. Cathal looked down at his arm and Cat could see the rage building in his eyes.
   "The cat has claws," he said, looking at her and again rushed her.
   Evaluate, she told herself. He relies purely on his strength, leaving no room for his speed.
   Good, she could almost hear her teacher say. And?
   And he's heavy. Which means he will lose balance easy. She dodged another blow that would cave her chest bones into her lungs and heart. Not killing her of course but it would cause her to yield for a time until they went back to the place and she healed.
   "Quit your dancing woman!" Cathal yelled at her. His fangs fully tract. A red ring circled the iris of his bloodshot eyes.
   "Maith dom," Cat replied sweetly. "Ah thought that was what we were doing. A mating dance."
   "Ah'll mate with your bloody corpse!"
   "Temper temper, that's no way to speak to your banrion a bheith." She spun again, missing his mace and slashed in an X across his chest. Droplets of his blood kissed her cheeks. She had half a mind to insult him further by licking the ones closest to her mouth. Instead, she smeared them with the back of her hand. She didn't want him anywhere near her much less in her.
   He was starting to tire quickly as the fight progressed, and it was showing. She was faster than him tenfold and seemed to know where he was going before he did. He was bleeding from many and more wounds. And she hadn't even reached for her throwing knives yet. Cat moved in close again for another blow as he turned and swung for her. But as she brought a blade up to meet the wrist that held his mace, he brought a free hand down. Her target moved at the last moment and she went to perry and counter, a shard pain ripped through the back of her head. Her body seemed to betray her and she moved forward but instead went flying back. Not back, down. In a flash of movement, she saw the braid of her hair wrapped around the gigantic meat brick that was Cathal's hand. Her eyes went from their cool emerald to an enraged blood red. A mixture of a growl and hiss ripped from her chest and up through her mouth. Immediately, the sound was choked out by her own blood and the mace, as Cathal slammed it in her face.
   "Cheat!" She heard the crowd cry out. Her mother was screaming from the royals' box. Her father was also yelling something but all she could hear was ringing in her ears. Her bones moved back into place just as quickly as they had been shattered, but it wasn't fast enough. Cathal's mace went from her face to her stomach, to her legs, to her arms. All while he still had a firm grip on her hair. Her blades were lost as she clawed at his hand. Digging her nails into his skin and ripping away chunks of flesh. Her growls and hisses turned to screams of pain she had never made before. If she didn't break away soon, her father would call the match. And her fate would be sealed.
   My knives,  she thought frantically. If I can get to my knives. She blinked through swollen eyes. Blood seemed to be the only thing she could see. But she could still feel. She raised her boot and made a kicked move for where she thought his face should be. Instead, she felt her ankle snap as if it were a twig. Pain seared its way up her leg, into her thigh and continued ever higher. She threw her head back and let out another blood-chilling scream. The crowd was screaming with her. Aithar, don't call it yet...please. This isn't over. This-
   Her eyes widened as pain ripped through her chest. She felt her back hit the ground. The edges of her sight were beginning to flicker and blacken. Cat could hear her father yelling commands at the top of his lungs. She could hear her mother screaming her name. At least, that's what it must have been. For just a moment she could see Cathal smiling sickly over her. "You're mine, bitch. Is tusa an mianach."
   With those words, Cat's world went black.