Fantasy Romance
Brelynn was like a sister to her, and the only family Mara had. The only family worth having.
How could Brelynn fall in love with a holier-than-thou Knight of Valor?
As the tiny fist of Brelynn’s daughter closed around Mara’s finger, a faint smile curved the warrior’s lips.
Maybe the Knight wasn’t all bad.
Back from vacation and plagued by computer issues. Here’s a repost of an older story while I try to get my Alienware computer back to acting like a computer and less like a very expensive brick.
Mara swept the first young Knight’s feet out from beneath him and shoved him hard with her shield. He crashed to the ground, and before he could roll away, she hit his breastplate with her sword.
A second Knight charged her, but she pivoted, letting his momentum in full armor carry him past her. As he tripped over the first Knight, Mara hit his back with the flat of her sword.
Two kill shots. Both Mara’s. Anything but a training exercise, and the two Knights of Valor would be dead.
There was laughter and teasing from the sidelines, but a quick look from Mara silenced the other Knights. “How long will you survive in the eastern provinces?”
Knight Keenan helped the two younger men back to their feet. “We’re practicing. They’ll get better.”
“But not good enough.”
“Not all of us can be Sir Marcus,” the Knight Mara had tripped said.
Mara pierced the boy with her hard stare. “Sir Marcus spent his life training to fight a lich. You spent yours training to protect the safe streets of Tamryn.”
Knight Keenan cleared his throat. “We’ll practice again tomorrow.”
Mara looked over the assembled Knights, her gaze resting on each man in turn. “Anything you face in the eastern provinces will be alive because it’s survived worse than whatever haunts your nightmares. Do you think your enemies get knocked down during practice then toddle off to say a few prayers?”
The Knights stared back at her, and several of them clenched their fists at their sides.
“Good. Get angry at me. Better angry than dead. Next lesson.” Mara motioned to a figure dressed in a plain brown cloak.
The woman walked over to Mara and bowed, then turned toward the Knights.
“Skyla,” Keenan said. “What are you doing here?”
“She’s helping me demonstrate a lesson,” Mara said. “Are your healers out here?”
Keenan nodded toward Knight Matthias, but concern reflected in his pale green eyes. “Is this safe?”
“Less dangerous than sending out half-trained men.”
Knight Keenan glanced at Skyla then stepped back. “Be careful.”
Mara looked at the woman in the robes. Her rich brown hair was tied in a simple ponytail, and her large grey eyes seemed too big for her face. She was easy to underestimate as so many mages were.
“Just like we practiced,” Mara said.
Skyla nodded and moved several sword lengths behind Mara.
“Do you think your Knights can beat Skyla and me?” Mara raised a challenging brow at Keenan. “Or are you going to send them to their prayer vigil and hope Dracor gives them fighting skills?”
“I don’t want her to get hurt.”
“Not what I asked.” Mara smiled at the gathered Knights, a taunting expression meant to rile them. “Pick your best seven. If they can get three points in before I get a killing blow, you win, and I’ll come back and help you train them until the new moon.”
Keenan glanced at the recruits and then back at Mara. “You called for a healer. What do you have in mind?”
“Don’t think seven of your Knights can get in three hits?”
“And if they can’t?”
“You owe Skyla and me a hellfire at Ndrek’s bar.”
“Seven against you and Skyla?”
Mara nodded.
“Until the new moon?”
Mara nodded again.
“They could really use the practice against someone with your skills. You’re sure Skyla won’t be hurt?”
“It’s not her you should be worrying about.”
Mara fell into her battle stance, and she felt Skyla building the first spell as seven young Knights took their positions opposite her.
Keenan signaled the start of combat, and Skyla let loose with the spell.
A wall of flames scorched the ground and rose up between Mara and the Knights. Mara ignored the fire, ducking her head as she charged through it and tapped the chest plate of one of the Knights. Pivoting, she tapped the chest plate of a second before any of them had recovered their wits enough to close their mouths.
The remaining five backed away from the fire and Mara’s blade. Just as she’d anticipated.
Skyla loosed her second spell, and the ground under the remaining Knight’s feet turned to mud.
Mara charged.
Slamming her shield into the first Knight’s sword, she shoved hard and sent him stumbling back then barreled into the second. Surprise widened his eyes, and when he tried to turn, he slipped in the mud.
Mara slammed his chest plate with her sword, and if it hadn’t been a practice blade, she’d have killed the Knight. Instead, she sent him into the mud with the first, who’s chest plate she tapped.
They’d hurt, but the bruises would teach a lesson they wouldn’t forget.
The remaining three Knights extricated themselves from the mud as Mara circled around them. She smiled as one tried to flank her while the other two came at her. Sprinting towards one, she used her shield as a battering ram and knocked him to the ground as the second scored a glancing blow against her arm.
She pivoted and knocked his feet out from underneath him them hit his chest plate with her sword. Leaping over him, she tapped the Knight she’d steamrolled to the ground.
One Knight remained.
As he stood watching her, black vines shot out of the ground and encased his feet, rooting him there.
Mara circled around him, but he couldn’t turn to face her. She came up behind him and tapped the middle of his back.
There were growing whispers that the battle hadn’t been fair. That they hadn’t been warned.
Mara only smiled. “Combat isn’t about fair. Or justice. Or right and wrong. It’s about winning. In real combat, Skyla would’ve been using fireballs, flame clouds, and ice storms. Never ever under estimate a mage.”
“Good lesson,” Sir Leopold said. “Well done, both of you.”
Mara felt the High-Knight’s faded blue eyes fix on her. She met his stare, her face impassive even as her stomach clenched. Tall and broad, the only thing that belied his age was the silver in his hair and the rank insignia on his uniform.
She wondered again what he’d feel like beneath her and how hard he’d fight her for top. How much she’d relish that fight. The thought made her belly tighten.
Stabbing the thought and leaving it to bleed to death, Mara handed her practice sword back to Keenan.
She picked up her battle-worn sword and wiped the soot from her cheeks. “One hit to seven kills. See you at Ndrek’s.”
Keenan only nodded as he checked on his men.
Jenn Moss over at Rough and Ready Fiction had an interesting post on “goody-good” characters and why they don’t work in modern fiction.
She writes science fiction, whereas I’m a romance writer, so our audiences are not quite the same. Still, it got me to thinking about the anti-hero and bad-boy tropes that seem to be quite popular.
I’ll think more on the anti-hero, but research says that bad boys really don’t get the girl. There’s several links in that article to the studies proving it, too.
It also explains the role of narcissists in this perception. Narcissists are really good at fooling us into believing that they are good people in the short-term, but they can’t live up to it in the long-term. Nor do they really want to as they aren’t interested in those types of relationships anyway.
They article also explains that there are reasons that some women may be attracted to bad boys, but a lot of that has to do with how they were brought up and their family life. Basically, what they’ve come to expect from a relationship.
Many years ago, I had a good friend who had a thing for bad boys. After again being treated poorly by her current love interest, we were eating ice cream together while she lamented the state of her heart. This had not been the first time this series of events had happened, and I asked her what she’d expected.
We knew he dabbled in drugs, drank, smoked, and was barely passing in school. He was more interested in his motorcycle than he was her. What did she think was going to change?
She was dumbstruck by the question , and she never gave me a straight answer. In hindsight, I don’t think she knew. Not really, and I never did understand. Eventually, we drifted apart as friends because you can only watch someone self-destruct so often before you just can’t feel much for them.
When life hands you onions and you cry, I’ll be there holding the tissue. But when you keep going to the onion patch and picking onions, eventually I gotta shrug and walk away.
It didn’t help that relationship that I’ve always been a fan of the white knight. The good boy that understands duty, honor, and kindness. I liked Luke better than Han, King Arthur better than Sir Lancelot, etc.
Many years later, and I think I’m starting to get it.
You see, my mother was very adamant with me that you love someone for who they are that day. They aren’t going to change. They aren’t going to become someone new for you. They are who they are, and either you love them then and there or you don’t. If you love them for who you think they can be, you’re only hurting them and yourself.
That stuck with me my whole life. If I wanted to be with a person who’d love and respect me, I needed to marry someone who was already like that.
And I did.
But this wisdom doesn’t seem to flow through our culture. There’s this expectation that if you love someone enough, they’ll change for you. That underneath their angst and misery is a heart of gold just waiting to fall in love with the girl that saves them.
Maybe some others have had experiences where this is true, but outside of fiction and the movies, I’ve never seen it.
I’ll keep the white knight.
How about you? Do you think the White Knight’s dead? Ever had a friend go for the “bad” boy or girl? Maybe you do or did? How’d it go?