❝ In a world tainted by decadent rulers, the Princess must step back to her kingdom for a revamp of the rules, claiming her rightful place on the throne ❞
Rules are made to be broken was the only rule Lysandra ever abided by. When that very principl...
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The dust rose up in the air as two feet moved back and forth, their hands swinging at each other. Silence descended upon the people who formed a ring around them, their eyes flitting side to side in a swift pace as they tried to grasp every move hovering in their vision.
Lysandra ducked down right in time to avoid a hand lodged forward, aiming at her head. Laurent was quick to put his arm around her waist, turning her around so that his front was flat against her back. She struggled in his hold and moved her feet to stamp on his, striking her elbows into his torso and yet, it was a futile effort. He was far too strong compared to her and the clever tactics only aided her so much.
Hot breath out of his mouth raised goosebumps on Lysandra's neck and she sighed, relaxing against him. A few tensed seconds ticked by and she rested both of her hands on his arm, rubbing up and down gently and her braided hair drenched in sweat fell back slowly, its tips tickling his bare chest. His breathing picked up even further and his grip on her waist slackened, making her grin in triumph. She raised her head up from his shoulder and bobbed it back to strike him using all of her strength and he groaned, pushing her away from him.
"You fucking devil," he breathed with narrowed eyes. She was quite eager to add in a snarky comment or two but, then deemed it unnecessary. Offering him nothing in return except for a smug lift of her lips, she challenged him to get back into the game.
It was a punch delivered straight to her gut that sent Lysandra straight to the ground. She had never expected Laurent to go easy on her and he was living upto his standards. However, she had noticed that he held some of his strength back so that he would not hurt her too much although, he did not let go of any opportunity to put her down, repeatedly.
Lysandra shot up, getting into a defensive stance and fixed her focus on his hands. She was surprised at how efficiently he blocked her advances, as if he had been observing her technique since forever. She moved her hand against the air, in the plan of ramming it straight at Laurent but, felt her formula backlash as he got ahold of her fist and twisted it behind her back. She grunted trying to loosen his grip but he held on tighter and kicked her leg, making her lose control of her footing. Once again, she hit the ground and a body straddled her back and she felt knees resting on either sides of her hips.
Jonathan, the commentator, began chanting numbers upto ten, giving Lysandra a leeway to get up before he was done. To her utter vexation, Laurent had her in a death grip, making it almost impossible for her to move any part of her body. She kicked at him, however, making no difference except for his hold on her arm tightening. Slamming her free arm on the ground in frustration, she squirmed, feeling her body loose it's strength, locked in between his both knees.
"And it's a win for Cirillo!" screeched Jonathan and Laurent got off her, raising his hands up and whooping with the crowd.
