Inside the academy clinic, sunlight streamed through the high arched windows and cast soft halos over Drake and the nurse as she carefully bandaged his injured hand. The clean scent of antiseptics hung in the air, mingling with the faint whispers of students passing by outside.
Xena stood nearby, her arms folded, her gaze razor-sharp as any sentinel guarding her treasure. Mark came in briskly, a splash of warmth into the otherwise clinical atmosphere.
Oh, buddy, how's your hand?" he asked, placing a firm hand on Drake's shoulder, as cheer now as casual as any comradeship.
"Yeah, it's fine now," Drake replied, tone just as steady as the bandage now wrapping his hand. The nurse finished her work in quick yet gentle fingers and glanced up at him to give him a professional smile.
Does it sting?" she asked, her voice soft yet clear, like the touch of a feather.
Drake nodded, giving a faint smile in gratitude. The nurse turned without another word and disappeared, leaving Drake to silence that was only broken when Mark's chair scraped the floor as he pulled it closer.
Buddy, I heard about your victory over Ronan in sparring class," Mark said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face like ripples on a calm lake.
Drake chuckled, his gaze dropping briefly to the bandage as though it were a badge of honor. "That was just my luck. If we'd been allowed to use unique techniques, I wouldn't have stood a chance.
Hey, a win is a win," Mark countered, leaning in conspiratorially, his voice dipping into a playful whisper. "So, uh, what's sister-in-law's true identity?" His eyes darted to Xena, who stood motionless, her expression unreadable but her presence commanding.
Drake smirked, the corner of his mouth curling upward like a secret threatening to spill. "No need to whisper; she can hear you.
Mark froze; his eyes widened like he'd stepped into a lion's den. His arms shook faintly, a betrayal of his unease. Drake extended his uninjured hand and laid it firmly, reassuringly on Mark's shoulder.
"Don't sweat it," Drake said. His tone was tranquil-a placid ocean pre-storm. "She's only dangerous when she needs to be.
The tension dissolved into the air, but only for a moment, as Professor Leo strode into the clinic, his long coat billowing behind him. His footsteps were deliberate, his demeanor commanding. He stopped before them, his head inclining toward Xena in a bow full of reverence.
"Ma'am," he said, his voice weighing like a mountain, "Principal Logan has requested your presence.
Mark's eyes widened impossibly, his earlier trepidation now full-blown shock. Drake opened his mouth to protest, but Xena silenced him with a gentle hand on his arm.
"I'll be back soon," she said, her lips curling into a teasing smile as she flashed a playful V-sign. Without another word, she turned and followed Professor Leo, her steps light but purposeful, as if the air itself parted to make way for her.
In the principal's office, meanwhile, a thick tension hung in the air like an omen of a storm. The intricately panelled wood of the room seemed to absorb the weight of the conversation each detail etched in the grain whispering of long-forgotten conflicts.
Professor Leo rapped sharply on the door, the sound reverberating like a taut drum skin.
"Please, come in," Principal Logan's voice rang out, firm as a fortress.
The door creaked open, and in came Professor Leo, followed by Xena, whose eyes were straight but with a hint of defiance.
"I have brought her, as instructed," Leo said with an inclined bow of his head towards Xena.
"Thank you. You may dismiss yourself." Logan said with a tone that was more dismissive than unkind. With a curt nod, Leo exited the room, leaving Logan and Xena alone in the room.
Logan's piercing gaze was planted into Xena, whose gaze remained on the reflective floor, while her demeanor momentarily remained in a suppressed approach. The silence stretched-like the drawn-up bowstring-ready to snap.
Finally, Xena broke it. "Can you give me one more chance?" she asked, her voice firm but edged with desperation, as with a step forward, her palms slapped onto the table with a resounding thud.
"No," Logan said, his voice slicing through the air.
"Please," she begged, her fingers playing with her right index finger, revealing her nervousness.
"Stop pleading," Logan shouted, his voice suddenly whipping up like a strong gust of wind. "You broke the contract first, to keep away from any incidents or school affairs."
"It wasn't on purpose. Circumstance warranted it," Xena argued, her voice shaking in both defiance and regret.
"And you thought that was the only solution?" Logan threw back, every word cutting like the edge of a sword. "Now the school is in jeopardy because of your recklessness. If the higher authorities hear about this, it won't be taken lightly."
Logan came around his desk, his pace slow, as he leaned against the table's edge, his face impassive. "There's nothing I can do but ask you to leave. You are also aware of the intercontinental agreement between all continents. As the guardian of Vas'tarim, don't you think it's dangerous to abandon your post for so long?"
Professor Leo had stayed outside the door. His breath had caught in his throat when he had heard their exchange. A reflexive gasp escaped his lips, revealing to them that he had overheard.
Xena's senses snapped to attention. A sharp wave of bloodlust radiated from her-an invisible force that struck Leo like a physical blow, leaving him retreating in a cold sweat, his body shaking uncontrollably.
Back in the office, Xena let out a heavy sigh. "Alright, give me a few days before I leave," she said, heavy with resignation. After much debate, they came to a compromise of three days.
Later that afternoon, Drake entered his room, his bandaged hand full of dirt and sweat from training. The sun was setting, casting the room in colors of gold and crimson. Inside it already, Xena darted to him the moment he stepped through the door.
Her eyes became wide with concern as she clutched his injured hand. "What happened? Why is your hand like this? Who did this?" she demanded, her voice quivering with anger and worry.
Drake pulled her into an embrace, his arms wrapped around her like a shield. "It is just some training. Nothing else," he murmured, steadying his voice to a soft balm against her rising panic. He pushed her gently back; his hands came to rest on her shoulders. "So, why were you summoned? Tell me about it.
They moved to the bed and sat down. As Xena explained everything, her voice both determined and melancholic, a pang of sadness pierced Drake's chest as he realized how much easier his days had been since she entered his life.
As he leaned in closer, he softly kissed her. Their lips met in a gentle, savoring kiss. As their connection deepened, Drake laid her down with soft gentleness, his touch reverent as he explored every curve of her form. His hands moved with a painter's precision; each motion an unspoken vow etched onto her skin.