“What hurts?” Eris asked as she started removing René’ bandages.

Barbara had wrapped his face, torso, and, even limbs in bandages the day before.

“Face. That bastard stomped like I’d stomp on his,” René spoke grunting.

His voice although in pain, still was soothing to Eris’ ears, knowing that his abnormal physique was still working.

“Hmm. Only difference is that your legs do not have the ability to do so,” Eris said with a momentary smirk, before removing the bloody bandages from his shoulder.

Another one of the many reasons for René being called Witch’s Spawn, was his abnormal regeneration abilities. Unlike, what was supposed to be a huge puncture wound from Joffrey’s spear, was merely a ruthless scar on his silky brown skin, after one night’s rest.

Tracing her fingers on his scars, anger boiled in Eris’ chest, just as tears in her eyes.

“Little too early for tears,” René’ teasing voice reached Eris’ ears, “you are yet to see artistry on my face. Trust me when I say he was quite attentive and diligent.”

Two’s eyes met in his comment and held silence as Eris worked bandages undress, applied medicine and dressing him in new bandages again.

Taking a deep breath, Eris finally went on to undress bandages from his face, and tears that hovered dangerously on the edges of her eyes, rippled violently with every strip of cloth getting undressed.

Dipping fresh cloth in warm water, Eris started cleaning his face that was now a lighter color then rest of his body, except his shoulder that it matched with.

Eris carefully navigated wet cloth, avoiding his blind eye and more noticeable scars and cuts, which were almost all over his face and neck.

Looking at Eris’ distraught face, wrinkling and twitching as she slowly pats his face slowly applying medicine given by Barbara, René couldn’t help but smile as warmth had long blossomed and settled in his chest.

It almost made him wanting to get beaten up daily.

René raised his fingers of injured right shoulder slowly, bringing them to Eris’ bright flame-like but shaky eyes so he could gather her unreleased tears.

Caressing her smooth cheeks slowly and gently, René opened his closed eye ever so steadily, as Eris’ favorite view came in her sight.

Thousands of specks lights smaller than fireflies, appeared out of nowhere but thin air, settled on René’ face one by one. Eris could feel a warm radiance emanating from light. Sensing the warm radiance, Eris could track the appearance of every speck as it appeared and how it settled on René’ face. Although this gave her a headache, she was too enamored by miracle happening in front of her to even notice it.

As, specks of light settled on his face, René could feel coolness entering his skin. Coolness didn’t disappear after entering his flesh, but spread all over his body in form of small ripples made by every single speck. Beneath all the ripples, something gathered together, somewhere, travelled somewhere and settled somewhere in his body.

René ignored happenings in his body, as a child ignores world to eat his father’s nose.

Opening his injured eye slowly, René looked his oldest friend’s surprised yet, worried face. Her fair and bright face had gone a little pale, due to constant worry over him, since last night. Little dark shade around her eyes contrasting her fair milky white skin along with redness on her little nose tip, spoke of sleepless crying night she had had. Her quivering plump red lips blossomed beautifully as she saw him heal little by little, quite visibly. Relief and vulnerability filled her heart as fiery glow returned to eyes making them resemble flames, rather than just flame-like.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

Taking her face in his palm gently, René let her buried herself in, “I like it. This expression of yours is quite pretty.”

…

“So, why didn’t you stop your brother?” Jon accused in a deep tone, “You say, you love him and yet he is injured with you quite often. If you can’t even protect him, how—”

“How am I supposed to take him from your warm breasts?” Cynthia took pleasure in Jon’s flustered and angered red face.

Without another word Jon took his strides towards Cynthia aggressively and yet without losing his balance, his eyes fixed on Cynthia’s eyes, palms, feet and waist rather than on Cynthia herself.

Focusing on his breath, Jon further strengthened his lower body and finally firmed his sword and sword-hand. Making sure his sword saw his target, Jon went in for a diagonal slash on her left eye with his right sword-hand.

Cynthia stood relaxed even after seeing Jon’s aggressive approach. She admired his lower body balance and strength and as well as posture and gesture of his upper body; stabilizing your breathing, and more importantly, your sword in rush of emotions, is no easy task.

Jon’s sword which was on the path of dissecting her brains and eyebrow, retracted just as she took a step back to avoid the attack. Pushing his foot forward horizontally Jon, changed the trajectory of his sword to Cynthia’s tilted body once more.

Although surprised by retraction of sword and now pushed against her throat, Cynthia didn’t lose her weight and composure and took half step to dodge the sword once again.

As if, expecting the Cynthia’s response, Jon pushed his foot vertical and guided his sword to transform upward slash into thrust with a his forearm and wrist.

Seeing the sword coming for her forehead in the middle of her dodge, Cynthia moved her hands for the first time, and matched Jon’s sword expertly with her arm guard.

First resounded a heavy clink of two metals clashing and then, came the sound of large thud, of bones breaking.

Cynthia had stopped Jon’s rally, despite being surprised one too many times, and had retaliated with a kick to his ribs in a blink of an eye.

Jon gasping for air, fell to ground barely managing to hold on to his sword.

Holding on to his chest, Jon looked at Cynthia’s surprised but amused expression. He had given it all in that one attack. He had planned for days, practiced his form, perfected his footwork and sword-work for these 3 seconds. And yet, here he was, looking at her from below, as he always had previously.

Looking at her from this position, looking at her unfazed stature, firm eyes, and arrogant expression, which to her refusal, resembled René, albeit a little; a warrior would find it quite hard not to worship her, especially after witnessing her strength and skill.

Still not ready to accept defeat so quickly, Jon stood up on his feet with the help of his sword. During this time, Cynthia had created little distance between them.

Jon stabilized his breathing, as he stared at Cynthia’s imposing stance. Her white pearly face with small, but definitive features were all in harmony with each other; told him that his actions were approved by her.

Cynthia’s right hand as always, rested on the hilt of her sword, her legs although seemed relax, were firm on earth, with her back straight and ready to react to everything.

She wore, silver-white light armor that covered her breasts, lower ribs, shoulders and upper back. She wore same colored arm-guards made of metal, black gloves, and same for her long boots, which were combination of leather and metal. Her red hair tied in pony tail, behind her head, came down till her middle back.

Her phoenix like eyes narrowed little on Jon’s movements. Her initial surprise regarding Jon’s perfect swordsmanship had now faded. To be honest, she was taken aback by how much perfect his stance, posture, balance and power were in those 3 seconds. She was almost sure, that anyone below the level of sword-master would have his balance thrown if not the sword itself.

However, those three seconds had passed away, and with his new injury granted by her, Cynthia could locate more than just two-three flaws in his attack.

First being, his emotional upheaval. Probably, regarding both from René’ too many injuries and facing an indomitable opponent.

Cynthia mere dodged all of Jon’s attack for first few minutes using half-foot-body technique, that she figured after watching some mercenaries spar with each other.

As for retaliating, her fists were enough. Cynthia hadn’t drawn her sword at Jon’s all time peak 3 seconds, so she obviously didn’t need to now.

Landing a square punch to his jaw, all the while avoiding the sword, Cynthia sent Jon flying to the ground.

“Isn’t that enough, sweetheart?” Cynthia mocked Jon as he laid breathlessly in dirt.