Ice and Steel

## Training Room, Shady Glen Manor, Tuesday May 14th

Rhiannon lands hard on her back with an *oof* as the breath gets knocked out of her. Again. She lies there for a few moments trying to regain some air before leaning up to get to her feet.

Elle was the perfect choice to ask for help with combat training. But there was truly an obvious gap between their abilities. Rhiannon has never focused on melee as she's best utilized from a distance, but whatever might be coming with Montreal and the Aquilonians may not allow her that luxury. She'd looked at the Danger Room's recreation of Narsus' fighting (both in the duel and simulations), and if all of them were that good, well…

So far her armor's defensive warding and her maneuverability have not been enough to stand up to Sir Lancelot's assaults. Counter attacks aren't even in the realm of possibility right now. And she knows they're holding back.

Elle lowers the practice spear, abandoning the battle-ready stance for a more casual one. They had been very pleasantly surprised by Rhiannon’s request, happy to spend more time with their friend and to have someone to spar with. They had opted for a spear over a sword, thinking it best to start with the weapon their niece was most likely to encounter. It had been a decent workout for them as well so far; they had been neglecting spear drills a bit in favour of practicing with their sword. It was hard to spend time away from it. Using the sword felt right, powerful, like controlling a part of themselves. They supposed it was, but sometimes they felt as if they could lose themselves in it if they weren’t careful.

“A spear’s main advantage is reach. They’re versatile weapons, powerful both in single and formation combat, but get within their reach and they’re hamstrung.” They smile at Rhiannon, trying to seem reassuring.

Rhiannon finishes getting to her feet, panting a bit and smiling as she wipes away some hair sticking to her sweaty face. "Getting within your reach is proving to be more challenging than it first seemed." Taking a deep breath, she sets herself in stance again. Elle had granted her the use of a practice weapon but so far they've all just felt heavy and unwieldy to her. She's switched to relying fully on her magic for defense and parrying and is simply trying to fit offensive magic in where she can. "You make it look so easy! But then- Lancelot always is the best knight in my opinion."

Determination set in her eyes, Rhiannon nods to Elle for another round. She doesn't expect to be wading into the front lines herself, but sometimes the front line comes to you and that's what she needs to be able to handle.

Elle laughs. “Arthur is a better spearman than I, honestly. But remember that I have been training since I was ten. It takes a lot of practice to master these things.”

They walk back to their starting position, grip the spear with both hands, and assume position. “Thankfully, it takes much less to get to a point where you can competently defend yourself.”

They don’t mention their gratitude at having someone speak of their future self in positive terms, for once. It might be visible on their face, but it was embarrassing to admit - it didn’t feel, to them, as if they had the right to complain.

They reach to their phone to set the timer. They were wearing their exercise clothes, a black sports bra and a white set of yoga pants with red stripes down the sides, and a strap held their phone to their upper left arm.

The app - made for boxing matches, but it worked just as well for this - makes a \*ding\*, and Elle dashes forward, closing the distance.

Rhiannon is wearing the ritually conjured light chainmail armor that came with her new role as the Winter Knight. She needs to get used to it still, especially for a situation like this. As Elle dashes in, the sorceress moves with the graceful fluidity of a dancer on her mostly bare feet. Her eyes follow Lancelot's movements closely, attempting to predict the incoming strikes.

The first blow is deftly parried in a flash of golden light as an intricate arcane circle manifests on her forearm where the spearhead impacted. A second strike grazes but doesn't make it through the flash of blue revealing another circle at her side. As the hits keep coming with greater speed, she begins to falter and give ground until eventually the blunted spear slams into her chest and isn't deflected by the circle there. Rhiannon launches backwards and tumbles to the ground in a hard roll, panting heavily in a heap.

"Damn…" She says quietly between winded breaths.

Elle crouches down next to her, a worried expression on their face. “Rhi? Are you okay?” They run to get a water bottle and towel and offer it to her. “Would you like to take a break?”

Rhiannon raises herself to a seated position with a weary but reassuring smile, gratefully taking the water bottle and drinking from it. She pushes her face into the towel and sighs deeply before handing it back, wincing as she gets to her feet.

"No, I can keep going… I have to figure this out."

“Alright. Just let me know when you do.” Elle puts the towel and water bottle back on the bench. They stretch, working some of the tension out of their back, before turning back around.

“Rhi… Why did you ask me to train with you? I don’t mean to say I don’t approve - I think every young lady should be taught some combat skills, noblewoman or no, you can’t just expect us to sit at home and handle the estate all the time, it’s not the eighteen hundreds - and I am happy to work with you, but I’m just wondering: why now?”

Rhiannon's eyes are on the floor and for a moment she simply looks… small. Lost. When she finally responds, it's quiet. "I need to fix things, Elle… And I don't know yet what that looks like. I have no idea what will happen when I go to Montreal for whatever awaits. Will we talk? Will we fight? I'd rather not fight, but if it comes to that-" She looks up and her eyes are misty but her expression is determined.

"I never want someone to leave me behind again and face things alone because they're afraid I'll get hurt. And if I go down in a fight, I just become a burden to everyone else… You've seen it happen. Gwen has too." Her voice trembles slightly. "So if I train to be better, maybe that won't happen? And people won't run off to nearly get themselves killed without me."

“Rhi…” Elle’s shoulders slump a bit. They didn’t really know what to say - consoling had never been their strong suit. They struggled with their own emotions too much to know how to manage other’s. It was hard to see their friend like this.

They raise their shoulders again, and adopt a confident position. It wouldn’t help to be seen despairing as well.

“You are never a burden.” Elle holds the practice spear in front of them with both hands, looking down at it. As they run one hand over the spearhead, the wood of the practice spear becomes metal as it gets replaced by their actual spear in a watery shimmer. “What you do is amazing. Not just that, but it is useful. Useful beyond just fighting, just combat… Magic is not only powerful but versatile. During times of peace, you can do so much more - you could heal, you could build, you could inspire and entertain. Your arts can conjure defenses and establish supply lines within the time it would take a company of knights to cut down and whittle a single tree for a log wall.”

As they run their hand down the edge of the spearhead, they test the sharpness. With the slightest touch, a small pinprick of blood falls from their fingertip, and they retract their hand.

“What I do has one purpose. Sure, I know many ways to achieve that purpose - but look past the methods, and everything I know comes down to knowing how to maim, and how to kill. I am very effective at it. But regardless of how much I train, I cannot catch a falling city, or encase a whole platoon of attackers in vines.”

They look up at their friend. “It’s a good idea to train to be a better combatant. I want you to be safe, and I want all our friends to be safe - I am glad to help you.” They tentatively reach a hand up to cup the side of her face.

“But you shouldn’t feel guilty for not being as much use in a fight as some of them, and you should not feel like dead weight. I have only been here for half a year, and I have seen and heard of many a time that things would have ended dramatically different without your help.”

Rhiannon closes her eyes and sighs, leaning her face into the comforting touch. Her posture straightens up again and she opens her eyes with a smile. "Yes. You're right. Maybe. I just need to get out of my own head, sorry… And focus on the matter at hand." She takes Elle's hand and gives it a squeeze. "As a last note though, I believe you have another purpose that you're forgetting about… You don't just maim or kill. You protect and defend. You lead. You make me feel- strong."

The sorceress stands on tiptoes and gives her knight a peck on the cheek before turning to walk away a short distance, doing some stretching of her own. She bounces on the balls of her feet a few times, shakes out her arms, then sets herself back into a defensive stance with a firm nod. "Again?"

Elle wipes her face with the towel, more for tears than for sweat, before nodding and getting back into position as well. The spear faded back into the dull, blunt wooden simulacrum as she brought it forward.

“I do protect.” She says, eyes scanning over Rhiannon - analyzing the position of her feet, the placement of her hands, her balance. “But sometimes defending means attacking. Sometimes you cannot wait for them to come to you.”

Their eyes narrow.

“I’d like you to attack me now.”

Rhiannon looks surprised, then a bit concerned, but nods. She steadies her breathing, eyes taking on a hint of a glow and hair floating eerily. As though an unheard shot went off, the sorceress suddenly sprints at her opponent. Brilliant teal magic circles appear in the air around her as Rhiannon makes quick movements with her hands, sending glowing darts of energy toward Elle. Make an opening… she needs to make an opening.

Her speed doesn't slow and neither does the barrage. As she gets close, the backs of Rhiannon's hands glow dark purple with a different design and wreathe with energy. She strikes. Not once, but multiple times in an attempt to break through Lancelot's defenses much the way they continued to break through hers.

Lancelot breathes deeply and rhythmically, entering into the state of near-meditation they use when fighting. If Rhi is serious about this, it would be rude to hold back.

In this state, the room melts away. They become not two teenagers sparring, but two forces, two types of energy clashing in the void - and all of their senses focus on the other, sight and hearing coordinating with the sense of the sorceress’ footsteps vibrating up through their feet. They close their eyes.

When the darts of energy strike, golden mirrors appear in the air to deflect them. One that makes it through is caught by a gauntlet briefly appearing on their hand before shimmering and fading again.

The footsteps approach, quick and light on the ground - Rhiannon’s steps were so light as to be hardly detectable, and Elle had the feeling that if they weren’t alone, they wouldn’t feel them at all. Perhaps it was a difference between Feywild fey and her own kind - while Nimue’s blessing gave her strength and speed as well as equipment light and strong enough to be a part of herself, her footfalls were still heavy and grounded.

Her eyes open again. She brings the spear up in an arc, blocking the first two strikes. The third is sidestepped, using the momentum of the spear to force the other to overshoot and go around. The fourth is blocked by a mirror, and the fifth glances off a briefly appearing pearlescent breastplate.

Elle moves their right hand from the shaft of the spear, as Rhiannon was too close for it to be of use, and moves to counterattack, a punch at her stomach. There’s an opportunity here, if Rhiannon will take it. The attack leaves Elle’s face undefended - but hesitate, and the counterattack will hit.

Rhiannon isn't holding back, fully expecting Lancelot to be more than a match for her assault. It's always rather awe-inspiring to watch Elle in a fight but she doesn't focus on that. When her eye catches the opening, instinct sends a magic-infused fist in that direction. Just before it makes contact, she realizes where the strike will hit. Her eyes go wide and the spell wreathing her hand vanishes as the fist stops just short of impacting Elle's face.

There's a dull thud and some pain as Lancelot's counterattack slams into her stomach. Rhiannon coughs as all the air is pushed out of her. She falls to her knees, gasping and holding her midsection. She looks somewhat ashamed as she tries to speak between breaths. "Couldn't… follow… through." Longer pause. "Sorry…"

Elle leans on the spear, holding back from going over there and helping her back on her feet. “I knew you wouldn’t. I am sorry for putting you through that.” She frowns. It hurt to see Rhi like this. “I.. That was meant to be a lesson about hesitation and… striking when you see the opportunity to. It was one of my first lessons as a child…” Her face breaks, and the uncertainty and worry shows on every inch.

They run over towards their niece, practice spear thrown aside to bend down and help her up. “I’m sorry. I don’t actually want you to be like me. It’s… It’s a good thing that you hesitate! You care about people. You care about everyone. You want the best even for the people you fight. That’s a strength, Rhi! I don’t.. Want you to be trained to be ruthless like I was. I don’t want to erase everything good about you by trying to protect you!” Tears form in their eyes, one falling down a cheek.

Rhiannon gets to her feet with the assistance and looks up with surprise at Elle's outburst. Her breath has mostly returned and she's otherwise fine (minus all the soreness and bruises she's sure to have later). She reaches out to gently wipe away the tear, gaze softening as she sees the others ready to fall.

"Elle… It's okay. I'm the one who asked you to train me. I didn't realize it would be hard for you too… You aren't erasing anything. I don't think I'd ever be able to truly make those hard decisions in combat. But that doesn't make them bad. And if nothing else, even knowing the mindset of a true combatant can help me defend myself better."

Rhiannon wraps her arms around Elle in a warm loving hug, resting her head against their chest.

"I think we make each other better. We always have. If you don't want to train me to be 'ruthless', then don't! You have so much more to offer than that. But if this hurts you, I don't want you to do it either. I've managed to get this far without, haven't I?" She chuckles.

Elle wipes her face on her arm, forgetting she isn’t wearing sleeves. “It’s not that I don’t want to train you. I do! I love training, and I want to do it with you, I just…” She leans into the hug, pressing tightly. “I don’t like how quickly I turned into my own worst teachers. How quickly I decided it was okay to hurt you if it was for a lesson, that I should teach you your compassion was something to snuff out or turn off while fighting…”

She breathes in and out, calming herself and pushing away the tears.

“How about this: We train together, and I don’t try to give you any Lessons unless you specifically ask for them.”

Rhiannon gives one last squeeze of the hug before pulling away and smiling brightly. "I think that should work just fine. I'm sure it will still help me improve. And who knows? Maybe I'll have a trick or two up my sleeve to surprise you yet." Her smile grows mischievous. "If nothing else, at least I get to spend time with one of my favorite people.”

She starts to move away then pauses, looking thoughtful. “Elle? I'm not sure where things are going from here- where things will end up. But until it's all settled, if you're ever around Prince Narsus… will you protect him for me? I don't think he'll accept it from me, if I even get to see him again. But someone needs to…"

Elle nods, seriously. “I already was, as a knight protecting a foreign royal. I will protect him as a friend too, now.”

“And I am sure you will surprise me. Or did you not notice that you got within my reach? I had to abandon the spear to counterattack.”

Rhiannon looks relieved at the reassurance and nods. Then there's surprise. "Really? I thought you let me in close for the lesson. Huh. Well I suppose we should get back to it unless you'd like that break now. How long do you usually train for every day?"

Elle smiles. “An hour at least, but this is only part of it. You’re welcome to join me anytime.”

## Training Room, Shady Glen Manor, Tuesday May 21st

As the sword swings in a horizontal arc, a shimmery, watery trail is left in its wake, projected outwards towards a line of ten dummies twenty feet away.

Eight of them fall, tipping backwards on their hinges. One of the others - the far right - gets grazed and wobbles, but ultimately remains standing, the hinge making a painful squeaking noise for a full half minute afterwards.

Lancelot grunts in frustration. It wasn’t good enough. *They* weren’t good enough. Even with the new powers.

They kick the dummies back up, look at them, then move to the supply closet to get a few more. Fifteen would do. Maybe if they could take down fifteen at once they could stand up to her.

Rhiannon arrives in time to see this last display. Once Lancelot ceases with the powers to set up more targets, she knocks gently on the doorframe.

“I see I’m not the only one who needs to work out some frustration…” She enters with a weary smile. Things had been a bit crazy since Friday when she found out Narsus was going to be arrested instead of her. Tidus had been sending his carapace soldiers all over the city looking for the ‘traitor’ prince. She assisted with defending where she could, but Narsus had been avoiding the Team too.

“Are you still up for our training session today? Sorry I’ve had to miss a couple. It’s been… busy.”

Elle looks up as Rhiannon enters, smiling warmly, though the frustration is still there. “Rhi! This is a pleasant surprise. I would love to train with you. I think I’ve run out of training dummies.” They chuckle.

“I do not blame you, things have been busy for me as well. I may not be able to point them out on a map, but even I know France, Siberia and Africa are not usually visited in the same weekend.”

"Oh my! That's quite the journey. I'd say you win on being busy. I've just been around here, but…" Her expression falls. Then her jaw and fists clench slightly. "I know you don't 'take it easy on me' when we do this. At least, not on purpose. But things- seem to be taking a turn for the worse with Montreal. I think I've been getting better? So- I really don't want you to hold back."

Rhiannon walks toward her starting spot for the sparring, light silver armor manifesting and a glimmer in the air around her as the magical shielding activates. There's a slight chuckle as she turns to face Elle. "Just pretend I'm one of those training dummies."

“Very well.” Elle nods. “Let me know if I go too far.” They put the dummies back where they found them, continuing the conversation while doing so. “It was indeed a busy weekend. Only the France trip involved any actual travel - I think I mailed you the plane ticket so you’d know where I’d gone - though being teleported across the world multiple times in the same day provides its own kind of disorientation, not to mention all the things that happened at the different locales.”

They quickly put up their hair to prevent it from getting in the way, armour appearing over their workout clothes in a full-body shimmer at the same time.

“Since you said not to hold back, I’ll use my sword today. I’ll blunt it -” A brief glow appears over the edge as Elle runs their finger down it “- but it can still hurt.”

They settle into a fighting stance, both hands on the sword.

“Shall we?”

Rhiannon’s eyes are practically sparking with energy and focus, barely waiting for Elle to finish their sentence before unleashing a barrage of wild magical energy in their direction. She sprints around the room, hair streaming out behind her. The sorceress had eventually taken to a mid to long range fighting style that suited her magic better, putting her on slightly more even footing with Elle being vastly superior in close range. The knight would try to get close, and she would try to stay beyond reach. It was almost like a dangerous dance.

The sheer number and power of the attacks is vastly increased compared to previous training sessions, stray magic impacting against the warding barriers with bright flashes. Rhiannon had placed them in the room to protect the rest of the house from harm as soon as Elle requested it for training purposes. It felt good… She had been fighting against the carapaces as needed for the past week, but she couldn’t usually let loose like this outside. Too many people. Too much that could go wrong. Outside of this room, control was key.
But she doesn’t want to control it right now. Rhiannon can feel the anger bubbling up again, just like when Gwen first told her Tidus was going to arrest Narsus. And she still can’t do a single thing about it… She stops and slams her hands against the ground, a circle sprouting to life and sending thorny white vines twisting toward Lancelot.

Lancelot is a little late to respond, surprised at the speed and vehemence of Rhiannon’s assault, a stark contrast to their previous duels. She brings up her mirrors just in time, reflecting a number of attacks in different directions.

She could make use of this, though. As the barrage continued, she adjusts the angle of the mirrors, summoning a few extra just in case. The angle of reflections changes from all over to precisely aimed, reflecting half the missiles back at the sorceress and the other half to the ground around her, magical blasts obscuring her vision.

Making use of the distraction, the knight summons a series of glowing golden spears. They rotate lazily in the air, their tips pointed towards their target, ready to strike - but she doesn’t let them yet. Instead she takes off at a run, focusing her energy towards her feet. When she reaches the wall she jumps and lands on it, running nigh-horizontally around the room to the back of Rhiannon.

As the smoke starts to lift, a flick of a gauntleted hand sends the spears flying towards her, hopefully making her misjudge their location.

Hastily-formed plan executed, Elle prepares to kick off the wall and launch themselves at her, sword coming down in a vertical arc.

Rhiannon pays the reflected projectiles no mind as they’re harmlessly absorbed back into her armor’s shielding, further bolstering it. She hadn’t noticed the ones impacting the ground were obscuring Elle from her vision though and growls in frustration as her vines only find empty air. Or perhaps- not so empty. She catches sight of the golden glimmers in time to spot the glowing summoned spears poised to launch.

Her eyes dart around in search of Lancelot until only one location makes sense. Rhiannon curses under her breath as the spears are loosed at her. If Elle was attacking at the same time… The sorceress whirls around to look behind her, erecting a hasty barrier that will hopefully block the spears at her back while summoning a much more powerful arcane shield to block Lancelot directly. Some of the spears make it through but their impact is lessened and most are then blocked by her armor. A couple manage to graze her directly, one leaving a shallow cut on her cheek.
None of which she’s paying attention to as Rhiannon braces and prepares to unleash a concussive blast of magic as soon as her shield begins to crack, icy eyes glowing intensely.

Sword hits shield, and there’s a brief standoff as neither seems to have the upper hand - the initial shockwave of energy fades, both combatants’ hair and clothes settling back down. Elle’s face, previously serious and focused, breaks into a wide grin. This - this is what she needed. This was better than a million dummies could be. If she could beat Rhiannon - an all-out Rhiannon - perhaps she could, if not beat, at least support the other knights against Morgan.

Not just that, but… they loved this. The rush of the battle. The impacts, the adrenaline, the feeling of knowing someone utterly and being entirely focused on them, to the point nothing else in the world mattered.

This was why they lived.

Their eyes sparkle with unfettered joy, and there’s a shift in the stalemate. Rhiannon’s feet slide backwards a few centimeters, and Lancelot’s sword starts making a barely audible sound, like a tuning fork, as water begins to run along the edges, speeding up to form something akin to a chainsaw.

The sword moves an inch, and one rune of the arcane shield disintegrates. Another slowly follows, and then the first circle goes entirely - the process speeds up, and it starts to look as if the shield will be overpowered entirely.

Then Rhiannon puts her other hand up, and the shield is broken fully from the other end as she releases a concussive blast that knocks both combatants away. The sorceress lands a couple feet backwards, having anticipated the result, though it takes her a few seconds to fully regain her footing.

Lancelot is thrown back a full four meters, bouncing once off the ground before flipping, landing crouched on two feet and one hand, and sliding another meter.

She laughs.

“That was amazing!”

Rhiannon regains her balance, attempting to shake out the numb tingling in her arm as a droplet of blood rolls down her cheek. She’s about to resume her assault, but pauses in surprise at Elle’s response. There’s a small smile in return. It did feel good… Her blood is racing with adrenaline and breaths are coming fast.

“Not done yet.”

This time she knows exactly where Lancelot is. She stretches out her hand toward Elle, then rotates it and clenches her fist. An intricate white circle flares to life beneath the knight as a swarm of thorny vines burst forth again in an attempt to batter and restrain her opponent while Rhiannon breaks into a run again, bare feet lightly impacting the ground with each step. The room has slowly been getting colder, breath starting to become visible. Magical energy swirls around her as she builds for another attack.

Lancelot narrows their eyes as the vines appear around them. It was too late to go through - so they had to go up. They slam a hand down on the ground beneath them, the center of the glaring white circle overpowered by rippling waves of gold and purple that shoot out of the ground, forming crenelations and turrets. A tower shoots up into the air, beginning a brief race towards the high ceiling as the vines twist and curl around the ethereal rock, cracking it.

They wouldn’t be able to work another ruse, so the only other option was to face the next attack head-on. That suited them just fine, they thought, grinning, as they hung from the side of the still-growing tower.

As both tower and vines approach the ceiling they let go, instead running down the tower directly, cutting through a few vines then crouching -

And leaping directly at Rhiannon at lightning speed, sword thrust forward, tower cracking behind them from the combined might of their jump and the pressure of the vines. Ethereal rubble falls around them as they speed towards their niece.

Rhiannon is impressed by the energy tower that Elle manifests, even admiring it a bit though she can’t afford to lose focus. There’s mild frustration that even a somewhat surprise attack was so easily avoided, but considering her opponent it wasn’t truly unexpected. As she reaches the opposite end of the room, six wings manifest and she gives a small jump to plant her feet on the wall.

Looking back, she’s just in time to see Lancelot running down the crumbling tower then their eyes locking onto her. Rhiannon blinks in shock as she loses track of Elle for a moment. *Has she gotten even faster?* There’s almost not even time to react, but she manages to launch from the wall with a powerful beat of her wings. It doesn’t take her far though, as Lancelot covers the remaining distance within the next breath. Rhiannon releases her magic point blank in a wild swirling barrage of multicolored orbs of force, but it doesn’t leave her enough time to mount a true defense.

The sword is blunted, but Elle was right. It does hurt. She’s able to deflect it enough that most of the impact hits and glances off her shoulder, but even that is enough to rocket her backwards into the wall with a huge slam. Rhiannon falls but manages to land unsteadily on her feet, wings aching but helping her balance. Wincing at the pain in her shoulder, nonetheless she begins summoning a series of circles for her next assault.

Even a full array of mirrors surrounding her dive like thermal shielding on a rocket isn’t enough to bear the full brunt of Rhiannon’s attack. While Elle registers that her sword hit home, she has no time to see what damage it did as she gets blasted backwards, through the still-dissipating ethereal rubble and in an arc to the other side of the room. There’s a crash as they land in the supply closet, through several boxes and dummies, before catching the edge of a pillar with one outstretched gauntlet and spinning around it to get to their feet.

The silence after the attack is imperfect, as the room still rings with the aftershocks of magic rippling through the warded walls. Nonetheless, it is jarring when it gets broken by a crash as object upon object - dummies, crates, machinery, some of it dense as blocks of solid iron - get thrown outward at the sorceress. Elle strides out, scuffed and with some tears in the cloth of their armour but still grinning widely and with a healthy rose glow to her cheeks, holding a pile of heavy weightlifting weights in one hand.

“Catch.”

They get thrown one by one like frisbees, the last one kicked in the air to give it extra speed. As they soar through the air she breathes in. In Paris, at the Arc… There was something there, when she ran up the building. The newfound strength came naturally, but this was different. If she could tap it again…

The world slows down. She can see the disks she had just thrown moving forward at a slow pace even as they blur from motion. She can see Rhiannon on the other end of the room, hands raised and tracing glowing circles in the air, a look of determination on her face.

She grins and runs.

The haphazard tossing of items in her direction doesn't prove very effective against Rhiannon as magic lances out from the vibrant blue arcana surrounding her, some blasting the projectiles aside while others deflect them with forceful barriers. She begins walking slowly forward, cautious as she looks for an opportunity to strike.

When Elle emerges with her new ammo and begins throwing them with greater strength and precision, the sorceress starts to have more trouble. The high intensity and recklessness she'd attempted this time for the fight has clearly taken a toll on her. She stands firm though as the first of the discs reaches her, slamming into a waiting barrier and deflecting to the side. But not without impact, as her feet slide a couple inches back.

The second one has much the same limited effect. Then the third. However, each successive hit weakens the barrier and puts Rhiannon more on her heels.

Then the scales fully tip. She'd been watching Elle closely as they threw the discs, but then they were just- gone. The final disc has much more speed and power than any of the rest, and Rhiannon isn't prepared as it shatters her remaining barrier. Her reflexes are barely fast enough to avoid a direct hit, instead taking a glancing blow to the head - just in time to see Lancelot reappear from nowhere bearing down on her.

Dazed and defenseless, Rhiannon's pale icy eyes widen in that split second before the blow she knows is coming.

The sword stops an inch from her nose. The waters coursing over the edge slow to a stop and evaporate. Lancelot stands there, sword held out in front of them, breathing heavily, beads of sweat on their cheek. They smile.

“I got you.”

Rhiannon releases the breath she'd been holding in a huge sigh of relief, swiftly followed by a crestfallen look of disappointment. Still a bit unsteady and head aching beneath a swiftly purpling bruise, she sits down on the floor and pulls her knees up to her chest. Her voice is filled with frustration.

"No wonder he won't let me help…"

Elle’s face could take the gold medal for quickest transition from unbridled joy to concern. “What? I - Who said that?” The sword vanishes and she bends down to look her friend in the eye.

“Rhi… that was the best fight I’ve had in a long time! If all my sparring sessions had been like that, Avalon would have a fighting force filled entirely with champions of legend. I had to turn to powers I earned but this saturday to beat you - I don’t even know how to control them fully yet!”

They put their hands on her shoulders, squeezing gently. “You did amazingly.”

"Ah, I thought you seemed stronger. And faster. But then you've always been better, so it's hard to make a true comparison. For all I knew you'd just been holding that much back. New powers though? That's amazing! I'd say you controlled everything pretty well." Rhiannon gives Elle a rueful grin.

"Maybe I did okay, but if I was good enough- Why won't he come to us for help? To me… Why are they even trying to arrest him when he hasn't done anything wrong? I'm the one responsible. I told them I'd go willingly. Nothing makes any sense!" She slams her fist into the ground, a small eruption of magic leaving a patch of thick frost at the impact.

“Ah… Prince Narsus. I dare say the fault lies not with you, dear. He is a prince - he may be a young one, but he knows his duties. He is not to let any of his be hurt if it can be helped, and while you may not be Aquilonian, I think he thinks of you as his.” They smile. “I know not Tidus’ reasoning, and cannot even speculate about King Primus’ feelings on the matter. Tidus may simply be taking an opportunity to rid himself of an irksome sibling. The king may not have any strong feelings about his children. For all we know, the accusations of treason are entirely true - our knowledge of Aquilonian custom is very limited.”

“True does not mean right, though, nor noble.”

They sit down next to Rhiannon, putting an arm around her and pulling her against them.

“You know my feelings about the situation and your fault - or lack thereof - for it, and I won’t repeat them. If they won’t come to us for help, we will simply force it upon them. Let them call us meddlers, but I’d rather be a meddler than let injustice and tragedy occur when I could have helped it, wouldn’t you?”

“And thank you for the compliment. I became aware of them during the fight against Morgan. It’s still new to me - I apologize if you find some bent spoons or hand impressions in doors over the next few weeks.”

"Thinks of me as-?" Rhiannon looks up in surprise, the tips of her ears coloring slightly. She leans into the side hug, looking back down at her hands. "I don't know about that. He did say he didn't want me to get hurt… because I still need to help fix the tree. He could at least let you or the others help though, rather than hiding from us as well… Why is it all going so wrong."

She nods firmly as Elle continues. "I don't care if it's meddling. I said I would help and I'm going to. Whether he likes it or not. Once I find out how..." Her last sentence ends with a sigh.

She's distracted from her frustrated melancholy by the new information. "You fought who...? I'll make sure to warn Carol, haha."

Elle’s face turns serious and fearful, though they try to hide it. “Morgan… Morgan le Fay. The greatest threat the Knights have ever faced, bar perhaps the dragon that took Art. She was in France. I…”

They look down.

“We would not have won if it had not been for… trickery. I don’t mean to say it wasn’t brilliant - I have never been so proud of Gwendolyn - but it should not have come to that. I know I am young, and newly knighted, but facing her… I feel inadequate.”

Rhiannon reaches for Elle's free hand, her own anger fading for the moment. Her eyes widen slightly as she breathes the name with somewhat fearful awe.

"Morgan le Fay…? I didn't know she was- here." She refocuses and shakes her head. "You're far from inadequate. Sometimes you just have to know your enemy first, right? Now you've faced her once, and next time you'll be that much more prepared. And more used to your new powers!"

"So… Take the win. And kick her ass next time." Rhiannon gives an encouraging smile.

The smile is returned. “I will definitely try.”

## Training Room, Shady Glen Manor, Tuesday May 28th

Rhiannon went to school. Just like any other day. She listened to her teachers and took her notes and followed all the same routines. Still, there was a presence missing that she had grown accustomed to...

Now she's home and making her way across the manor to continue another routine of the past weeks- training with Elle.

Lancelot is already hard at work when she arrives. Nothing new there. Elle is nothing if not dedicated. Rhiannon silently enters and makes her way to the starting position for their sparring, expression completely neutral. A chill wind follows, swirling out and around as the entire room becomes steeped with unchecked magic and the temperature drops multiple degrees. Strange glowing motes appear and disappear, floating eerily in the sudden frosty mist. The wards along the walls flare against the encroaching magic. Rhiannon simply waits.

Elle turns to Rhiannon when she enters, smiling weakly. She was happy to see her, happy that she still came to this, but unsure how to act right now. Does she need them to be warm, consoling? To act normally? To be a handhold? This kind of thing had never been their strong suit. Perhaps they should go easy today? Should they say something?

The moment passes, and anything said at that point would be awkward. Lancelot’s heart feels like it twists in on itself.

Just focus on the sparring, then.

When Rhiannon extends her magic into the room, Elle shivers, and can’t tell whether it is from the drop in temperature or the expression on their niece’s face.

The armour appears, and the sword is unsheathed. Positions are taken, and the battle is begun.

Elle wastes no time. They vanish, dashing around the room at high speeds circling the sorceress and looking for an opening. Now and again they strike, dashing in to deliver a blow before vanishing again. Slashes of gold-purple energy buffet from all sides.

As Elle maneuvers around the room faster than most eyes can track, Rhiannon takes an approach unlike any from their past sessions. She remains perfectly... still. It's hard to say behind the bright glow but even her eyes appear to be unmoving, as though she's in a deep trance. Her hair floats and sways, each calm breath creating puffs of crystalized moisture in the frigid air. Yet despite her passive stance- none of Lancelot's attacks seem to make it through.

No arcane circles manifest, yet each slash of energy seems to slam into transparent multicolored walls of pure chaotic magical force. Sometimes absorbed, sometimes reflected, other times deflected or even teleported in random directions. The hit and run strikes from Lancelot themselves meet a similar fate as each time they get close, something inexplicably blocks the blade with an unpleasant keening tone. Front, sides, back, above- somehow every approach seems defended. At least from this level of power.

The ground around The Morrigan grows hazardous with slowly expanding ice, a bramble of cold black thorned vines breaking through and writhing to life. All the while her expression remains unchanged.

Elle jumps out of reach of the vines, onto the wall, hastily creating an energy structure halfway up to keep them off the ground. They surveyed the scene. This approach wasn’t going to work. Rhiannon was still there, in the same spot, in the middle of the room - reaching her wasn’t the problem. This magic, the barriers and the vines, seemed to require her full attention.

Perhaps a single, stronger attack would break through.

She paces around, golden flagstones appearing under her as she does so. There was no approach from the ground - those vines would get through. She would attack from the air, then.

She jumps up, bringing the sword overhead in a slow, vertical arc, focusing as much strength as she can on one single strike. A brief moment of uncertainty - she hasn’t used her new strength all-out like this yet, she doesn’t know what will happen - but it fades. Rhiannon will be fine, her wards are powerful.

The first barrier shatters instantly. A second one lasts slightly longer but the downward arc is only somewhat slowed by the thick magical resistance of the very air seeming to fight against it, feeling perhaps like cutting through water. The force of the blade is still significant when it gets within a few feet of Rhiannon, her eyes still straight forward. That's when the brambles shoot up like a living shield, twisting and weaving into a surprisingly sturdy shell that blocks her from view. For a moment, it seems like the shield will hold.

In the next instant, the blade slices through the magical flora and appears that it might truly reach Rhiannon at nigh full strength. And as those cold, strangely detached eyes turn toward Elle- it does. The sword of Lancelot cleaves into a solid form...

Then the form shatters. Glamour broken, it's nothing more than a statue of vines and ice. Rhiannon is finally on the move, swooping in from the side with a relentless barrage of frosty magical projectiles as glacial spikes erupt from the floor and ceiling. The room has continued to grow colder and more misty with airborne ice crystals, frost beginning to creep up the walls beyond the wards as the paneled wood groans and creaks in protest.

Elle’s eyes widen as the glamour breaks. “What’s -” She’s cut off by a sharp pain in the side as the first of the projectiles hits her. She whirls around and blocks the rest - cutting some out of the air, dodging some and intercepting others with mirrors - but when they stop, the pain in her side persists. She looks down.

A thin coating of ice covers her side, near the seam of her breastplate. It wasn’t impeding her movement much, but this fight was tough enough that even a small disadvantage could prove catastrophic.

She buys herself some time by unleashing a wild flurry of projected slashes around her, destroying as much of the vines and ice spikes as she can. Keeping her eyes on her opponent in case she tries to illusion again she unsheaths her dagger and stabs at her side, onto the ice, once, twice, thrice - it breaks.

She lets the dagger fall to the ground. She could retrieve it later, and there was no time to lose.

She dashes straight at Rhiannon at full super-speed, attacking her wildly with her magical sword.

The Morrigan doesn't let up, gliding amongst the debris from her destroyed hazards. As she continues, the projectiles become more refined until eventually it's a consistent barrage of frosty arrows. However, Lancelot's defenses hold long enough for them to go on the attack again.

The magic filling the room is thick and heavy… almost oppressive as it feels like the air itself wants to deny the knight passage. Rhiannon's eyes can't even see Elle at their full super speed. On most days, the fight would end here. But this time is different- the ice crystals suffusing the air are like a part of her, extending her senses throughout the room. She can't see Elle getting closer… But she can feel it.

Even that almost isn't enough time to allow for a reaction though, wings giving a powerful beat to push her backwards and to the side just as the blade passes by her face and clips the sorceress' ear. A couple more slashes narrowly miss her as she continues to dart backwards. Rhiannon's wings curl around her as she prepares a defensive counterattack, a translucent sphere glinting with colors encasing her and beginning to spin rapidly.

Rather than relent and be forced back onto the defensive, Lancelot decides to double down and push forward. Anchoring themselves to the ground with energy shackles, they stab through the sphere with their blade to reach the girl inside, water vapour coming off of the point of impact where the sword meets the spinning sphere.

The sphere's spinning increases until the speed has nearly created a small vortex around the two combatants. A high-pitched keening rings in the air as the blade's tip slowly begins to drive into the orb, but the spinning doesn't slow and the shape reforms on the other side. Still, she needs to work fast…

One large blue glowing sigil appears stationary on the outside of the sphere. Then another. And another. Eventually lines begin to swirl and connect the sigils into an intricate pattern, though it doesn't have the neat precision of her usual circles. All the while, Lancelot's sword presses further in until it's mere inches from Rhiannon's closed eyes. The sound around them is almost deafening at this point.

Then, a moment as the tension snaps.

The Morrigan's eyes open, blazing with power, and her wings flare out to full as she spreads her arms wide. She can feel the blade hit her chest in the moment as the sphere vanishes- before a column of force and magical energy like cold white flames erupts around her and sweeps out across the entire room. The wards shatter, cracks appearing in the walls and ceiling.

Lancelot is worried.

Not about themselves - they trusted Rhiannon not to go too far, and they trusted their own ability to defend against this.

They are worried about Rhiannon. She hadn’t been the same recently, and though it was understandable given the circumstances, her present self is a far cry from her usual gentleness. Elle might not be a psychiatrist, but they knew cutting off contact from your family and friends wasn’t healthy.

So when Rhi showed up to practice, they had been hopeful that it would get her to open up, that they could talk and help.

It was this she was thinking about, this she was distracted by when the explosion of magical flame hit her right in the chest, and she went flying. Her sword flies from her grasp, spinning through the air and clattering against a wall. She herself hits a wall a moment later and slides to the floor.

The entire room is a foggy crystal mist for a few moments, and utterly silent. Then the mist begins to clear as a form emerges, bare feet only making the slightest of noise as they pad closer.

As Rhiannon becomes visible, so too does something different about her… Gone is the pristine and almost untouched appearance that had been there the whole fight. Her armor is covered in slashes, though the cuts aren't too deep. There's a distinct nick in her ear and a shallow slice above her right eye. And her chest is oozing blood slowly from the last strike.

The sorceress had a glamour on herself from the beginning. When it looked like nothing from the initial attacks got through, it was false. She only wanted to *appear* invulnerable. But there was no need for that deception any longer. She walks up to Lancelot slowly, expression neutral as she looks down. Finally the victor.

"Thank you, Elle. I might take a break from training for a while." She looks around at the room. "I'll come by to fix things and recast the wards later."

Rhiannon turns and begins walking to the door.

Elle looks up at Rhiannon from the ground, dazed. “Uh… Right, yes… Thank you…” Her eyes widen as she sees the blood, though they’re having trouble focusing. She rubs her eyes. Yes, that’s blood.

Fuck.

She opens her mouth, but Rhiannon is already leaving. The door closes, and she’s alone.

She stands up slowly, and walks through a mess of crumbling icy vines towards her sword on the floor. Something about it felt off, somehow, as she approached.

She picks it up and it sings in her hand, a keen ringing sound in her mind. Sharp. When did the blunting come undone?

Lancelot makes the sword vanish. Her hand shakes. At least she now knew one thing:

She was *not* ready to face Morgan le Fay.