Unfortunately Zeven couldn't stop himself, "and if all else fails, you can still marry me."
Thankfully Chris was ready, "Who knows, with how well this goes y-you could be the one to marry me."
"Are you proposing? This is all so sudden. I don't know what to say." He brought the back of his hand to his forehead with flare.
***
They spent the rest of the day away from the table and the letter that sat upon it. After much insistence, Chris finally convinced Zeven to let her spar outside. With her injured shoulder there was little that she could do, and it could be reinjured easily.
But convince him she did. And so there they were in the barn discussing the best type of sword to use. "That one." Chris pointed to a large claymore, "That is what I was trained with." Zeven's eyes grew wide as he looked slightly scantalized, "First off, you had to wield it with both hands and you currently only have use of one, second using something that heavy greatly reduces your speed which, if you'll forgive me, is one of the only things on the battlefield you have the advantage in."
She understood he meant well, but it came across as an insult. "Then I'll figure out how to one hand it." she stuck her good arm out for him to pass it to her. Zeven paused for a minute, wanting to find the best way to pacify her. "Look, the only perk to using a big sword like that is that it makes you look…" he trailed off, figuring out exactly why she had been trained to use such a large, excessive weapon. The goal was to make her look more masculine and as far as he could remember from all the books that he had read, their king always brandished a hefty sword. Even though he understood, he found it foolish and therefore was not willing to accept it as a plausible reason.
"A good king is not based on the size of the sword he wields, rather the triumphs he achieves with it." Instead of passing her the claymore he grabbed a lighter blade and sat that in her outstretched hand. "Using a smaller, light weight sword will give you an advantage. And if people are to mock you for it, let them do so on their backs after you have struck them down."
Sword in hand she turned from Zeven, slicing through the air with ease. It was child's play to wield in comparison to the claymore, and he was right, she was much quicker this way. In addition, it also opened up the possibility of dual wielding or carrying a shield.
"I have said it before and I'll say it again, the people in charge of your training had their heads so far up their asses that they'd swear the sky was brown." He leaned into his back leg with a satisfied smile on his lips.
He could picture the faces of the onlookers as she burst onto the scene with her unimpressive blade only to unleash hell itself upon those who came against her. She had the capacity to be the greatest king Ametade had ever had, but she didn't have anyone to help her find out how. until now.
The sun hung low in the western sky by the time the pair went inside. Gunter was waiting for them with a filling meal and an affable welcome. Now high on endorphins, Chris was in a state of euphoria. Her whole body felt warm, and pleasant. The letter incident was far from her mind, as she blithely made her way upstairs.
She was asleep on his bed before Zeven even made it upstairs.
Pushing her to the other side of the bed, Zeven burrowed under the covers, equally worn out. He faced the door as he curled into himself. His eyelids feathers, as they slowly fell.
He did not dream of the woman that night. Instead, slipping into a deep, restful sleep.