A Dark Heart - Rhysand's Sister Fanfic AU

S I X T E E N

flipped

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"Nobody can hurt me 

without my permission."

―Mahatma Gandhi

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+eralyn

I had yet to decide if the enjoyment of pounding my brother's face in with my fist was because I had waited centuries to fight an Illyrian or because of what he had said at dinner the previous night. I admit that what I had just said was a bit overboard but it got me what I wanted: Cassian to make an impulsive move.

When I had just begun my training, Lorcan seldom spoke. I appreciated the silence at the time, especially considering my then-circumstances, and seldom had the desire to strike up a conversation with the estranged man who looked as if he could snap me in two despite being a few years older than I was. However, the first time he really talked to me was when we spared for the first time.

I had a particularly difficult day and Lorcan's grueling training did no such thing to help the situation. I had spat at him and snarled that he was having me engage in a child's play. That was when he took a fighting stance. I, naturally, followed, practically preening for the fight. I wanted it, the fists, the blood, everything. I wanted it all. It was the first time I had wanted such a thing, a far cry from my original desires so materialistically revolving around comfort within my own home.

But I was no longer in my own home. Now, I was in a strange new land with strange new people wanting strange new things.

So I didn't balk from my desire.

Lorcan seemed to had gleaned my desire because his tongue began whipping. Insult after insult he threw at me as if I were his target and his words his daggers. Over and over, I let his daggers hit their mark, and he succeeded in getting a rise out of me, leading me to swing first and utterly impulsively.

I had lost that fight, badly, and learned never to provoke Lorcan like that again unless I knew what I was getting myself into, but it wasn't until much later that I learned his insults were simply a tactic.

When the opponent swings blindly, there is much one can read about them and their style of fighting. The opponent's sense of self-control can be analyzed first as well as how physical the fight might get. Next, when the opponent actually swings, the fighters who know how to pay attention to detail can glean the power held in their opponent and develop a sound counter-attack.

I attempted this tactic with Cassian, just because he knew a style of fighting I did not: that of the Illyrians. He continued to swing after I landed my first punch not long after he had landed his own as we danced around in an elegant yet aggressive form, cursing lowly beneath our breaths and trudging hard to reach our goal.

Left and right, we struck like arrows with purpose. My speed was crucial to this fight because, regardless of how heavyset Cassian looked to be, he had both the speed and strength, which probably offset many of his opponents. While I may have had the element of surprise for a while, it seemed as if Cassian had actually come to terms with my arrival and was no longer in a daze. His eyes held a deadly focus as he wielded his body with a defined accuracy I knew was built over the course of centuries.

In the few times our eyes met, I could see the pleasant surprise in his eyes due to my ability to keep up with him. It made my ego inflate and even though I knew better than to not let it, I basked in it.