Medieval Lesbian Romance

Chapter 2 Part 2 - The Very Gay Duel

Carmen

"I won't go easy on you whether you ask me to or not," I retorted hotly.

The crowd bellowed, carrying the words all the way around to the other side of the Pit. People not close enough to me were crowding around, trying to figure out where I was. The Berserker's grin widened into something unexplainably feral. I couldn't help the little shiver in my fingers.

Before she could taunt me any more and rile up the crowd, I planted my foot on one of the slats and began climbing the fence with cool-headed ease. I wasn't worried about it collapsing under me. If it could hold her weight, it would hold mine. As I reached the top and debated on how to sling my leg over without looking clumsy, my opponent approached with her arms folded across her chest, showcasing her thick biceps.

"Do you want help getting over? Things are built taller here," She taunted, lips curled with amusement.

I wanted to roll my eyes but that was not a reaction befitting the upper class. Instead, I lifted my nose in the air and proceeded to – very gracefully – swing my leg over the top and slip to the ground at her side. I met her gaze head on.

We stared each other down for a few seconds as the crowd began making noise again. Then, my opponent blinked obligingly and bent down with a sly grin.

I didn't know whether to back away or stand still when her breath rustled the hair next to my ear.

"Good thing you refused my help," She murmured mischievously. "I would've used it as an excuse to feel you up."

One blink. Two.

Suddenly, the sun felt a thousand times hotter on my face as the Berserker woman chuckled, pulling back and striding off to the far edge of the pen. My breath seesawed in my chest. I felt like I could vibrate out of my skin, I was so tense.

Snap out of it. You have a duel to win.

I nearly shook my head, holding back only because it was a show of weakness. The Berserker woman was donning a thick sand-colored practice vest she pulled from a large wooden crate, wooden panels already tied to her forearms and shapely thighs. Forcing myself back into the present, I moved away from the fence and dropped my weapons bag on the ground, bending over to don my own protective padding.

I withdrew them one at a time from the bottom of my bag. The vest and guards were light but sturdy, gray and tailored to my exact body measurements. They were another gift from King Agnar, courtesy of his special visit on my twenty-first birthday when I became of age. It should be noted it was also the first – and last – day I ever drank enough to pass out.

After double checking my ties were secure, I pulled out my first weapon. It was my dulled rapier, one of the first full-sized swords I'd ever received. When I'd grown out of it, it had been too fine of a creation to throw out. It was now one of my practice weapons. It was also one of my weakest weapons, so I was using it to test the waters with my opponent. Hopefully, I could last against her long enough to request we trade weapons.

With that being said, I had to be sure my other weapons would stay safe. So I dragged the bag a few feet away, where it couldn't be touched but wouldn't be in the way.

Finally prepared, I turned and faced my opponent with a grim sense of determination. I could already feel that this fight would be a close one.

When I saw what weapon the Berserker woman had chosen, I had to force myself not to laugh, remembering the fantasy I'd had upon arriving in Viv. The one with the scantily clad Berserker maiden. My opponent's weapon was a club, looked hand carved, and was probably only a little longer than my arm. It was made from near-black wood, covered with countless dings and scratches that were buffed up to a shine.