Tristan lowered his blade, carefully restin git on the ground. Placing a hand on his chest, he lowered his head and bowed. "Princess." Waiting for a moment, he didn't dare peek up, waiting for her command.
"There is no need for formalities. We are family." Mabel quickly released Tristan, and when he rose, he saw her looking at him with a strange look, one that analysed everything he did, hidden behind wild eyes that craved excitement.
'She is similar to Brandon.' Telling himself, she compared his uncle to her. Unlike Brandon's gaze, which was invasive, trying to deconstruct everything it looked at, she was more observant, watching and waiting, the invasiveness of it hidden behind the arrogant ferocity of her father and brother.
"Thank you, princess." Tristan politely said and felt Annabell, flapping her wings above him, moving back slightly. It wasn't an action built on fear but a strange disgust. Mabel looked up at the bird with slight interest. It was normal for their family to hide their summoned creatures most of the time, letting it be an ace in the hole. Only a few, such as Anton, publicly showed it; the effect was greater when it was seen.
"Your summons is lovely. Such soft feathers." Holding her hand, she stared into Tristan's eyes. "May I?" Tristan sweetly smiled, hiding his anger. To ask such a thing was to put part of himself in her hands. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed Annabell by the shoulder and stroked her soft feathers.
"Please be gentle. She is rather shy." Tristan said softly.
"Tristan. She smells of a beast. I don't want to." Annabell said with an angered voice, flapping her wings. Squeezing Annabell ever so slightly more, Tristan's intent became clear to her as she hesitently allowed herself to be taken by Mabel.
"You can sense what my summon is?" Mabel narrowed her gaze, "Interesting." Carressing Annabell's father, Mabel didn't realise she was slowly being sucked into their softness, the gentleness of them making her feel like they would break if she pressed too hard. Only after Annabell dug her feet into Mabel's hands slightly did she return her, able to sense that the bird and Tristan were slowly losing patience.
"Princess," Tristan spoke once to Annabell, who rubbed herself on him before taking to the sky and circling above, "Is there a reason you approached me?"
Mabel smirked and shrugged. "Why is a member of the Cosmaton dynasty hiding in the shadows, swinging his sword. I realised it is because you don't wish to distract the men who serve our family and therefore will allow you to spar with me."
Tristan suppressed his smile and meekly rubbed the hilt of his sword. "If that is the Princess's will." Placing a hand on his chest again, Tristan followed Mabel into the centre of the courtyard and lifted his sword. Much like him, she was watching everything, looking past his stance, trying to understand him.
'She is more dangerous than I thought.' He had first believed Mabel to be eccentric. He knew of her before Anton was king and knew that, unlike the normal ladies of court, she pursued the sword, dressed in trousers rather than dresses, and even went as far as to run off one time when threatened with a marriage she disliked. Whether out of love or indifference, Anton allowed her to act as she pleased, resulting in the woman his age becoming a blend of her parents' traits. But beneath that, there was still the dignity and grace of a lady, only it had blended with the other aspects of what made her.
Tristan watched as Mabel waited for him to approach. Much like the Royal Guard, she knew she was better than him, and didn't feel right to be the one to attack first. Tristan took a deep breath and stepped forward, circling around her, positioning his back to the sun.
Seeing Mabel squint from its blinding rays, he leapt forward, swinging his sword forward, trying to hit her elbow. Mabel lifted her shield and intercepted it, pushing forward before she buckled under his strength. Losing his balance slightly, he internally cursed at the weight of the sword that felt wrong for his body and completely composed himself, as Mabel attacked from the left, stepping out of the blinding sunlight.
Throwing his sword at her, the steel bounced off one another and allowed the two to make some distance from one another. Tristan didn't hesitate to move first, not wishing to give her a chance. His swing was heavy, but inaccurate, as he swung too early. Mabel, realising, charged forward, hitting him with the shield in his stomach.
All the air in his body escaped as he groaned in pain, but not wishing to be defeated so quickly, he greedily suckled in air and desperately swung up, the two steel blades colliding once more. With the small chance available, he kicked dust up into the air, straight into Mabel's eyes and ran forward.
Closing one eye and letting the other one be irritated by the sudden attack, she blocked the strike with her shield, this time not pushing back. Closing her irritated eye and opening her good one once the dust settled, she pushed Tristan back and flew a flurry of attacks, trying to gauge what it was that she felt wrong with his attacks.
Each one was barely intercepted, the attacks sending shocks down his arms, making them numb. Slowly, his defence weakened, and Mabel saw the chance instantly. Like before, she threw a punch with her shield directed towards Tristan's face. Stepping to the side, he gulped, feeling the dull edge of her blade quickly touch his neck, pulling her punch at the last second, allowing herself to balance.
Tristan dropped the blade and raised his hands with a thin smile. "I surrender." Looking at Mabel, he saw a proud smile on he rface as she lowered her blade.
"Your awareness and intellect are quite good, but." Looking down at his sword, her smile widened, "You use a weapon unsuited for you. Why?" Tristan watched, wondering whether he should say anything. For a moment, only the gentle breeze could be heard.
'If I want to get close to her, I need to give an answer. How much does she know about me? Peeking at Ser Titus, he remembered the brief moment before she approached him and knew the man must have told her a little about him. 'She likely knows my past from him, but not much else.'
"It's embarrassing to say, Princess." Rubbing the back of his head, he chuckled, "But the sword is the easiest weapon to learn without a teacher that doesn't tarnish the Cosmaton name. I had believed maybe a club would be easier, but a Princeling using a club is hardly fitting."
"Huh. And you didn't think to ask the King for a teacher?" Mabel smoothly asked, looking at Tristan, trying to gauge his emotions to the question.
"Who am I to request soemthing from His Grace?" Tristan humble siad, placing his hand on his chest and lowering his head slightly.
'Humble. Too humble. He doesn't want to be perceived as a threat. Instead, he is slipping into the background. Why?' Mabel told herself and watched as Tristan rose to meet her gaze, his deep black eyes staring into her own. Once again, she saw the same ever-watchful look in them. 'He's trying to read me like I am him?'
Tristan saw the ends of Mabel's lips curl up slightly. 'My answer amused her?' Tristan told himself and watched as Mabel fell into thought. 'Does she find it funny that I had no teacher, or that I refused to ask for one. Maybe it's both.'
Mabel looked to the sky to gauge the time. "Tristan." Calling out to him after she handed the training sword to Ser Titus and took the cloth he held, wiping the sweat from her forehead. In the distance, she nodded to one of her servants who quickly ran over holding a leather pouch filled with water.
"Yes, Princess?" Tristan waited as she greedily drank the water, finishing it before handing the pouch back to the servant.
"Find me at sunset. I shall be on the Yellow Patio." Looking up, she spotted Annabell, "Your bird isn't to be summoned when you do." Walking of Tristan watched as she returned inside the Everlight Palace and looked to the ground, smiling to himself.