Orryns POV:
As Nadya gracefully traversed the expansive training grounds, my eyes instinctively followed her every movement. She was a spectacle to behold, a vision of strength and beauty. The healing had left her with scars, a testament to her past, but they only added to her appeal. No longer the frail creature I had once cradled in my arms, she had blossomed into a stunning warrior, her form no longer marred by malnutrition. Her allure, quite evidently, had not escaped the attention of others either.
The hushed whispers of my comrades, tinted with admiration, trickled into my ears, their awe-stricken glances cast her way. There were even those contemplating an approach, considering I was no longer a hindrance. As much as their intentions stirred a primal urge in me to protect what I felt was mine, I had to swallow down my anger. It was I who had created this chasm between us, and I had no right to object to their advancements.
Foolishness was a mild word for my behavior. Denying my burgeoning feelings for her had been a futile act of pretense, a pathetic show of pride. The moment I had stepped into the tent and laid eyes on her, covered in Brie's blood, defiance sparkling in her eyes, I was bewitched. Any other woman in her position would have recoiled, cowed in fear and despair. But she, she chose to fight, to live, to survive.
Nadyas fiery spirit burned bright in her eyes, replacing fear and guilt with a blaze of undying resolve. It was a flame that she carried within her, lighting up the grounds, outshining the morning sun's rays that cast long shadows over the landscape. The sprawling expanse of our training area, drenched in hues of golden dawn, seemed to fade into insignificance against her radiance.
The crisp morning air hummed with the symphony of swords clashing and warriors grunting. But amongst this melody of war, her presence commanded silence, a reverence. The fresh scent of dew-laden grass, the rugged allure of dusty trails, the sprawling chaos of warriors and weapons, it all was just a backdrop to her figure moving with such ease and fluidity.
Oh, how I regretted my hasty actions. How had I allowed my pride to get the better of me, to erect a wall between us? As I stood there, observing her, I was filled with admiration... and remorse. The sight of her, strong and confident, was a far cry from the fragile girl I had first encountered. Her beauty wasn't merely skin deep; it was the fire in her spirit, the strength in her heart, the relentless resolve in her gaze that truly made her shine.
The fierce determination she displayed that day, standing tall in the face of grave danger, had echoed my own spirit, my own struggles. But my fear of vulnerability had driven me to push her away. I had built a distance, a void I now yearned to bridge.
My heart throbbed in my chest, an echo of my newfound resolve. I would right my wrongs. I would bring down the walls surrounding my heart. I would expose my vulnerabilities, express my feelings without the fear of rejection. It was high time I fought for her, for us, the way she had fought for her survival. The journey wouldn't be easy, I knew that, but I was ready for the challenge. And I would start now.
A sharp, resonating whistle escaped my lips, cutting through the ambient noise of the training ground. All eyes immediately swiveled to me, curious and expectant. "Nadya, come here," I commanded.
Even from the distance, her rigid posture betrayed her feelings. Her body language spoke volumes about her hesitation, the tension in her stance so palpable I could almost feel it myself. Despite her evident reluctance, she began making her way towards me, likely trying to avoid creating a spectacle in front of the crowd. As she walked, each calculated step accentuating the natural sway of her hips, I found my eyes tracing the elegant curvature of her figure.
There was a fleeting moment of hesitation on her part before she shrugged it off, assuming an aura of confidence. When she finally stood before me, her gaze met mine with a resolute defiance.
"So I heard we have a prodigy among us," I mused, stepping down from the elevated platform. As I started to circle her, I was hit by a wave of her scent, something I hadn't had the pleasure of experiencing in far too long. I was caught off guard by the unexpected surge of longing, an urge to pull her closer and drown in that familiar, comforting fragrance. Suppressing the impulse, I continued, "I'd like to see that for myself."
I came to a halt in front of her, and her eyes widened slightly in surprise. Audible gasps of anticipation echoed through the crowd, a ripple of whispers spreading like wildfire. The challenge hung heavily in the air between us, but true to her character, Nadya met my gaze steadily and nodded. There was no hint of fear or apprehension, only unyielding resolve.
"Weapons or hands, your pick," I declared, unsheathing my sword and extending it towards her. Her response, however, was not what I anticipated. She shook her head gently, refusing the blade, and instead held up her fists, poised for combat.
A jolt of surprise and admiration coursed through me. She was refusing the safety of a weapon, choosing to confront me with nothing but her bare hands. It was a bold move, one that spoke volumes about her spirit and resilience. The corners of my mouth tugged upwards in a small smile. This was going to be interesting.
Despite our past differences and the wall that had sprung up between us, in this moment, as her determined gaze locked with mine, I felt a deep, raw connection. My heart pounded in my chest, my mind flooded with thoughts and emotions. One thing was crystal clear: Nadya was a force to be reckoned with, a tempest I was more than willing to brave.
As we squared off, I could feel the eyes of every man and woman in the training grounds boring into us, a sudden stillness sweeping over the usually bustling area. I could see the spark of determination in Nadya's eyes, her fists clenched and body tensed, ready for the fight.
And then, it began.
My first punch was quick and straightforward, meant more as a test of her defenses than a real attack. Nadya responded with an unexpected agility, a swift sidestep causing my fist to swipe through nothing but air. The smattering of cheers from the onlookers did not go unnoticed, and the edges of my lips curled up slightly, an unexpected pride swelling in my chest.
She was quick, that much was obvious. Her movements were fluid and light, a dance more than a fight, and a clear testament to her diligent training. However, the gap in our experience became apparent when I managed to land a few calculated hits, the force behind them restrained, but enough to knock the breath out of her.
Yet, her tenacity was astonishing. Each time I landed a hit, she was quick to recover, pushing through the pain with a grit and determination that was admirable. And more than just evading, she tried to fight back. Her fists flew with a passion, each punch and kick aimed with careful precision.
But her attacks never found their mark.
I was not untouched by her relentless attempts. Watching her trying to land a hit, time and time again despite her continuous misses, was a display of sheer resilience that commanded respect. Her every missed attack only seemed to strengthen her resolve, her eyes reflecting a burning determination that made my heart pound in a way it hadnt in months.
There was an undeniable grace in her movements, a strength in her perseverance. She wasn't just fighting, she was learning, adapting with each passing second. And it was during these moments, under the harsh sun and the scrutinizing gazes of our comrades, that I found myself getting lost in her rhythm.
My heart ached at the sight, not out of pity but admiration. Here was a woman who, despite the odds stacked against her, refused to back down. A warrior in her own right, unyielding and resilient.
The fight served as a striking mirror to the turmoil within me. Each evaded hit, each failed strike was a reminder of the distance I had put between us. And every resilient stand she made was a reflection of the stubborn feelings that I had been trying to suppress.
As our sparring match continued, I felt an overwhelming urge to bridge the gap I had constructed. Without a moment's hesitation, I grasped her outstretched hand during a punch attempt, pulling her swiftly toward me. I spun her around so that her back was flush against my chest, effectively restraining her movements. Her breaths came out in rapid succession, her body heaving against mine, and I found myself leaning in, my mouth mere inches from her ear. "Do you admit defeat?" I whispered, my voice barely more than a husky murmur.
Her body stiffened against me at my words, her warmth seeping through the thin material of my training gear, stoking the ember of desire that had been smoldering in me for the past few months. Her body melted against mine, and for a moment, the world around us fell into obscurity, leaving us alone in our bubble. As I reveled in the sensation of her nestled against me, she did something completely unexpected. Dropping her head forward, she swiftly jerked it backward, connecting with my jaw.
I released her instantly, a metallic taste spreading in my mouth, likely from a split lip. I stepped back, my hand instinctively coming up to wipe the blood away, an astounded chuckle bubbling up from my chest. The fight had taken an unexpected turn, but the glint in her eyes and the pink flush on her cheeks only stoked my admiration further. In her resistance, in her refusal to admit defeat, she showcased her spirit, her will to fight. Even though we were physically apart, I felt a pull toward her, a yearning to reconnect, not only as a comrade but something deeper, something more personal.
"You are truly astonishing," I declared, spitting the metallic-tasting blood from my mouth onto the training grounds. I saw her eyes widen slightly, a hint of surprise flickering within them. The first phase of my plan had been executed successfully. It was time to initiate the final step.
"Starting tomorrow," I continued, my gaze never leaving hers, a faint, challenging smirk tugging at the corner of my mouth, "You will be training with me one-on-one. We need to hone your gift."
This was my opportunity, my chance to rectify the mistakes I had made. Our shared training would be a battle ground of a different sort, a chance for me to slowly mend the bridge I had burned. Despite the sternness of my voice, my heart pounded with anticipation at the thought of spending more time with her, guiding her, watching her grow stronger each day. As I watched the myriad of emotions flicker across her face, I couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement at what lay ahead.