Lost in Albion 3 (Merlin) - Completed

Chapter 2: A Cleaning Price

Chapter 2

I draw my sword, swinging it about artistically, a smirk drawing on half my lips. Arthur moves first and I quickly block it, circling our swords and forcing him to move back.

"Good," he comments as I take my offensive.

It's empowering, the hold a sword and actually be able to use it. To know, that if somebody came at me with their own raised that my muscles will know what to do. To not hope that I'm good enough to hold them off until somebody else comes to my rescue like my experience with Alvarr.

I grunt as my sword is knocked out of my hands, sailing through the air a few meters away from me. I bend down, using my knees to rest my hands as I take in the breaths I couldn't before. A trickle of sweat falls down the side of my head as my throat stings from the cool air of the night meeting my heated body.

"You're getting really good," the Prince huffs out, also taking a moment to catch his breath. "Have you been practising without me?"

"You're not my only training partner," I reply, standing back up straight to collect my sword.

"What?"

I turn, looking back at the Prince who holds a stoic face, almost offended. I shrug my shoulders, not seeing the big deal.

"Castor trains me as well and I practice other nights by myself," I add. I hold the blade up to my face, eyeing it off for any damage in the past few days. I keep the fact that I've been practising against actual enemies to myself.

"Oh," he mutters, his eyes wandering up to the sky. "I didn't know that."

"I want to train often and it's unfair to ask you to stay up late," I offer in a somewhat apology. "And you may want to ask for his help if you ever need a hand training the younger knights. He's a good teacher, much better than you'd think."

"I'll keep that in mind."

I watch as his thoughts drift off somewhere and narrow my own eyes in curiosity to what has him so distracted. I stride up next to him, but he still hasn't broken from his head, so I kick my foot out, knocking it against the back of his ankle. His instincts kick in, just as I'm expecting and his foot plants into the ground, holding against my rather pathetic efforts. He smirks, hooking his own foot around the back of my knee, forcing it to cave in and I grab his shoulders in an effort to stay up. But my centre of gravity moves, forcing me to fall back to the ground.

"Oft," I grunt, the grass tickling my neck. Arthur stands over me victoriously. "I think we should go to bed now, it's pretty late." To add to my words I yawn loudly, psychologically causing Arthur to as well.

"Let's go to the armoury then," he says. He begins to walk off and I sit up in shock, coughing obnoxiously. He turns back around, holding his arms out in question. "What?"

I gesture to my place on the ground. "You weren't even going to offer me a hand? What type of Prince are you?"

Arthur rolls his eyes, a playful glint visible in the moonlight. He offers a hand and I take it. His arm yanks me up, an unexpected force that sends me unbalanced but he drops down, his shoulder riding into my lower stomach as his hands latch on behind my knees. I cry out, now face to face with his back as he starts walking towards the armour.

"Arthur!" I exclaim. "This is not what I meant."

"But I'm a Prince," he protests sarcastically. "I must carry the fair maiden to wherever she wants to go!"

I reach up behind me, scuffing my hand over the back of his head but for the most part just relax, watching the back off his boots lift off the ground. As well as other things visible to me at this perspective.