#kaelyx

But she does a little better, as they come together again. Kaelyx is toying with her, slowing her strikes enough for Ariadne to keep up with, signalling half her moves with her eyes before she makes them. Letting Ariadne take the offensive sometimes. Pulling her blows.

Ariadne feels baited, but what choice does she have but to swallow, and to wait for the hook to catch in her throat.

Still, the panic -- you know I despise it when you panic -- eases slowly, and her feet find the rhythm. The suffocating, blinding fog in her head starts to lift. She begins to sense Kaelyx’s intentions, and to think more than a single motion in advance. The pace increases slowly. If Kaelyx is hoping to get some genuine practice from this, perhaps Ariadne will not entirely disappoint.

The dragon queen is still better than her. She ‘kills’ Ariadne dozens of times over. But the victories are not driven home with so much force. Ariadne is smacked with the sword, not clubbed with it. She’s shoved back rather than tackled to the ground. She falls for a feint, and the subsequent stab is stopped short of even touching her. “Keep your arm up,” Kaelyx tells her. “Don’t fall for the trick move, I’d have left myself open if I’d followed through.”

Something tugs in Ariadne’s chest and behind her eyes, something not fear but equally vulnerable. It’s gone a moment later, leaving behind only the familiar faint pang of fake gratitude, and the ever-present anxiety.

She follows the instruction. They play out the same exchange again, with Ariadne forewarned, so that she can see how it should have gone. Kaelyx moves on immediately, and Ariadne’s verbal thoughts fall quiet again to let her body think. Forwards, block high, forwards again, mistake, evade, struck again, breathe, push forwards.

The kick that drops her is not delivered full strength, but it connects with the knee that buckled earlier, and Ariadne goes down hard. No sword at her throat this time, so she rolls back to her feet immediately -- if something’s really damaged she’ll find out when it doesn’t take her weight -- but she stumbles as vertigo spins in her skull. 

The knee is fine. Ariadne can ignore the pain. But all the will in the world won’t stop her limbs shaking with exhaustion. She can’t train as long as she used to. She feels the first edge of frustration, before it’s written over with fear again. How long will Kaelyx push her? What will happen when she can’t keep getting up?

She hides the tremor as best as she can, and throws herself at the dragon queen again.

Kaelyx continues to grant generous amounts of leeway. Ariadne gives her her absolute focus, grateful for the opportunities to learn. But her fatigue shows. Focus can’t compensate for the loss of strength and speed and coordination. She makes many, many mistakes. And it’s not long before she trips over her own feet and falls again.

No sword at her throat, no bared fangs. Her muscles burn, but they obey as Ariadne forces herself back to her feet. “You’re exhausted,” Kaelyx says. “Yes,” Ariadne agrees. “I’m sorry. I can keep going.” Those silver eyes are unreadable, alien, as they stare Ariadne down. “You’re done,” Kaelyx declares. “And I have things to do.” Ariadne nods gratefully, apprehensively. Is she dismissed? “Go rest.” She is dismissed.

She limps to her designated tent, heavily favouring the hurt knee now. She burrows into the bedroll and lies flat, letting the waves of tremor roll through her body and slowly cease. The world spins gently, and the floor pushes up against her aching limbs. It feels fantastic just to be still, and she lets herself luxuriate in it. A small pleasure.

On some level, she’s still waiting for the catch.

Kaelyx was furious. Kaelyx despises her. Their history in the castle cells taints every breath Ariadne takes. Ariadne wasn’t afraid of dying, when she thought Kaelyx was going to kill her. It doesn’t matter if Ariadne dies. She’s already got what she wanted -- she’s given the monsters every scrap of information she can think of. She’s given the King her fuck you.

She wasn’t afraid of dying. She was afraid of being kept alive.

She was afraid, when they sparred with live steel, that Kaelyx would cut her muscles and ligaments one by one and make her keep fighting. She was afraid, pinned under her claws, that Kaelyx would rip her to ribbons. She was afraid when she hit the floor over and over, that the blows would get harder and harder until they shattered bones.

She was afraid that Kaelyx might ruin her, drag her to a healer, and expect her to spar again next time the dragon queen had frustration to burn off.

But here she still is, not broken, not crying with agony.

She quailed under the force of the dragon’s righteous anger, and she walked away with nothing worse than bruises.

For a little while, Ariadne wonders if she is going to cry. The tears come at the strangest of times. She drowns in the emotions sometimes, self-control in tatters. But this time she doesn’t sob. The ache in her chest passes and leaves her with the relief of emptiness again.

For a little longer, she lies still and she thinks nothing at all.

Eventually, she no longer feels the pain of fatigue in her limbs, and her breathing is easy. She rolls over, and is merely uncomfortable. She has rested, as ordered, and her body rewards her by obeying her intentions without trembling.