Silent Blades and Hearts of Steel

Chapter 3

A fortnight had passed since general Blackthorne had taken the young Silver Swallow in training underneath his protective wing.

Nightly sessions, bruises, and exhaustion had become part of Dehya's cruel schedule. Blackthorne was an astounding mentor and put training before anything. 

She had just returned from yet another training session. Her flanks heaved rapidly with every step she took, but her vision was clear, and her muscles were tense, but not screaming. Her frame had began to show change; her shoulders were broader and lean muscle built along the side of her arms.

"Dehya," Blackthorne drawls on the other side of the door. "Join me for lunch, will you?"

"Give me a second, I still have to change, sir."

She removes - rather pries the drenched training attire from her limbs. Then hastily settles for a silken black silk blouse. Interest gleams in her eyes as the soft material slips between her fingers. Never once had she touched something so expensive. The material rests comfortably on her wounded skin.

"Hm, oh, hello, sir!" She salutes as she opens the door. Having had expected that Blackthorne would long be gone without her.

"Stand at ease. Now, I was thinking of a little picnic, ey? Varys made sure to set up the food whilst I went to grab you."

"Pardon me, sir, but why?"

"This is the 13th night you have been training underneath me, and I'm rather pleased."

Dehya deadpans. Pleased with my continuous defeat and suffering, yes..

"No, no, little wildcat. You are making progress. Small steps pave the way."

"If that's your experienced insight, sir."

"Now, come. Don't want the food to grow cold, do we?"

She suppresses a childish giggle of glee as she falls in step with her mentor. The negative feelings that she had harboured had been defeated by the general's temperament.

But even in the face of it all, Dehya felt hesitant. This man was capable of so much, so this could very well be a manipulative scheme to draw her in, for all she knew. She casts the feeling of looming dread off. No use feeling for things that haven't happened yet. For once in her life she can enjoy something. By all the seven gods above, please.

"So, Dehya, tell me: what was your life like before you joined the military?"

"Nothing special, really. I lived on a small farm with my parents and five siblings; four brothers and an older sister. I spent the days running around like children do. Tended to the chickens and horses when my father would let me." She sighs and then smiles. "I liked the horses a lot. Only thing I miss."

Once upon a time, there would have been a poisonous anger dripping from her words. She had been like a snake laying underneath a burning stone, waiting for the right opportunity to snap. Many had felt her bitter fury.

He interrupts her musings with a chuckle. "Hm, sounds fair."

Spring air envelops her in a fresh hug as she inhales the crisp smell of grass and.. pie? Amusement glistens her usually dull expression. "Smells good."

"Doesn't it? The great commander sure knows the taste of luxury."

They finally reach the endearing gesture. At the very end of the glade, a large cloth supports multiple luxurious sandwiches, pastries, and fruits. Many of which Dehya had never seen before. Varys is long gone, but when she sees the man again, she will make sure to convey her gratitude.

She turns to her mentor, who smirks with self-satisfaction. "I know, I know. I am simply too good to be true."

Her voice hardens momentarily. Resembling the walls of her cold, lonely fortress. "Perhaps."

Blackthorne laughs easily. His eyes crinkle as he examines her.

Eyes search for her soul, her very being. Reading her like an open children's book. Blackthorne always did pry.

To ease the uneasiness growing within his apprentice, he snickers. "Well, help yourself.  The food won't eat itself."

Nodding, Dehya takes a seat on the linen cloth, making sure to avoid any of the delicacies strewn about. The smell was simply mouth-watering, especially after yet another training session.

Blackthorne offers a shepherd's pie with an outstretched hand. "Have a go at this, I guarantee you that it will be the best thing you have ever tasted."

"Thank you sir," Dehya accepts. The baking warm against the palm of her hand before she plates it. Truly a luxury compared to the half-cold soup offered back at the High Moon barracks.

A hum of contentment rumbles as she rejoices in the savory good.

"Told you," he remarks, "my wife, however, makes them better."

The trainee nearly chokes in her mouthful. Of course Blackthorne had a wife. Coughing softly to regain her dignity, she inquires, "your wife, what is her name?"

Blackthorne must have lowered his guard around his apprentice, for his face softens with loving endearment. Surely reminiscing about his loved one. Dehya would almost call it sweet. "Her name is Anette. You'll be meeting her soon enough. We are returning to the Silver Swallow residence in a few days. I'm sure the two of you will get along just fine."

Dehya can't help but smile at his warm tone. "Well, I'll be looking forward to it."

The two chat the day away and return to the comfort of their chambers as night casts her protective blanket of darkness over the tired soldiers. A little crack of Dehya's injured heart mends that night and makes the pain just a little more bearable. If only a little.

905   (just a little less than intended, sorry!)

Happy new year, by the way!