Queen of Swords

 

His elbow came down hard on her shoulder blade, her bad knee didn't want to support that extra weight and buckled under her, she shifted her weight to the side so that she'd land on her rear rather than her face. Cerwis got back up and charged forward, her fist connected with his nose, but his fist caught her in the side. 

 

She felt something crack; It took her a second to push the pain to the back of her mind, like she always did, and that gave him time to drive his knee into her stomach. She stumbled back, coughing, before running forward again, aiming a punch at his face again.

 

Ira caught her wrist and gripped it tightly, "It doesn't have to be like this, Misfit. You could come back to the little room at the inn I have and we could have a good time..."

 

He didn't have time to see her other hand coming, her nails raked deep furrows into his cheek. A quick jab to the throat a split second later made him hesitate to catch is own breath. She drove her fist hard into the soft area below his breast bone, causing him to double over and release her wrist, forceful application of her elbow between his shoulder blades drove him to his hands and knees on the ground. "Answer is no, Ira. Whatever past we had is just that, past."

 

In a practiced move, Ira slid his dagger out of its sheathe in his boot and drove it into her foot, pinning her to the soft dirt of the secluded arena. "So, because you've come into money and have a decent life, you can just write me off? I don't think so, Cerwis. I think you'd look real nice as a serving girl in my house."

 

She pushed the pain back, it would be dealt with later, she'd had worse, "...This, with the dagger? Not in the terms you bastard." 

 

"We never had terms, Misfit," he chuckled darkly.

 

"... A serving girl, huh?" She dropped to a crouch to be level with the larger man and lifted his face so she could look him in the eye, "I will never serve you, Ira. And to think, you pull out a knife in a fist fight when it seems you might lose. To think, I was fighting you honorably. You were never fighting honorably, feigning weaknesses for me to pick up on to use against you... I think you should go back to Menethil very, very soon Ira."

 

"I'm not the one pinned to the dirt with a dagger. Most would be screaming and crying by now. I win, again." He smirked at her, "And if I leave for Menethi, you're coming with me."

 

"I've had lots of practice dealing with pain, Ira." Cerwis calmly ran a hand across his cheek, "You, on the other hand," she snatched out his eye in a quick motion and tossed it across the way before removing the dagger from her foot and throwing it tip down in the dirt, " have not. I win. Go home, Ira." She didn't spare a glance back as she left, intending to get her horse and go to either Anterian or Lirriel. 

 

Once she'd cleared the alley everything hit her in a wave and she nearly collapsed into a nearby pile of crates. Lormar stepped out of the shadows and steadied her, helping her the short distance to her horse, "'Bout damn time. Good job."

 

Cerwis blinked, momentarily startled by the arrival of her pseudo-uncle. A snippet of conversation from a few days prior came back to her.

Maybe it was the pain, maybe it was that she only just now understood what Taty had said, maybe it was a hard mix of the two, but this sudden realization made her laugh. Laughing hurt, but Gods be damned she was amused. 

 

Lormar muttered something about Lirriel checking out her head as she and Eastwood made off for the Priestesses apartment. 

 

She was going to need some coffee.