The King Trials.

~Blossoming~

He moves to meet me at the centre.

Each motion graced with fiend-like power.

He's armour-less, leaving only his regular burgundy uniform. All prestigious ornaments removed. Even without the armour, his powerful stature remains superior to those Spartan shoulders, every bulging muscle wrought from iron. The top part of his hair is tied in a loose bun, the rest free to reach the end of his neck. Strands of ink caress the sides of his face.

The tempo of my heartbeat jolts, my calm veers off into a mute frenzy.

I hope I do not appear as dumbstruck as I feel.

"Those were ancient Aevlin stances," he points out. Each word uttered with a deep rumble. "How did you come to learn of it?"

My heart hammers in my chest. My pulse drumming beneath my skin, pounding in my ears.

Groping for words, I string them together. "And how did you come to find me?"

I rotate to the side to turn my gaze ahead, pretending to view the ever-evolving scenery. But that breath-taking splendour pales in comparison to what stands near me. Rising heat in my face burns my cheeks in prickly singes. Ragged by discomfort, I tightly cross my arms, in fear that my heart may soon burst from it.

"I was not looking for you...but I found you." I frown. A veiled depth to his words, layered by enigma. "I do not care how safe they claim the Citadel is. I will always make certain that those in my custody are well-guarded. Always."

His duty. Of course.

"Now, will you answer me?"

Words roil in my stomach, strangling my insides before I vomit them out.

"Perhaps if you spar with me." What on Urium, Aurora!

"....What?"

I step back, scanning the unrailed platform, unprotected from a fall of death, with just one blunder. I rather take the odds and distract myself, disarmed by his mere presence. The heat within spreading through my chest like ravenous flames.

My eyes dart around his face, but never in those onyx eyes. "If you spar with me. I will tell you anything you want to know."

He prowls towards me with ominous intent. I move away until we start to circle each other, going round and round the square-shaped platform. Shadows shifting over our moving forms.

"Do you dare challenge me?"

I shrug innocently, observing him vigilantly. "I long for a worthy opponent. But in the absence of one, I shall have to settle for you."

He shakes his head reproachfully, a dread-inducing smirk cracks his stony face. "Know your place, Hera."

My jaw trembles and I clench it into stillness. Steeling my resolve. My fingers curl into ready fists. "Then put me in my place," I provoke.

His arm twitches—a bolt of lightning—I narrowly evade the punch. I swivel around as we swap positions. In retaliation, my foot strikes his mineral-hard stomach, but he barely even flinches.

He glances down and flashes another deadly smirk. "Cute."

"Just getting started."

We collide, executing a plenitude of expert moves. He muses my strikes and I endure his, studying his movements, analysing his fight pattern, and searching for his weaknesses. That's if he has any. However, I have noticed that he depends on his dominant right side, nevertheless; he is inarguably skilled. Most soldiers alike to his size hinge on their strength, but Primus Kelan utilises both speed and agility. A formidable fighter.