Fell Champions

Kir’s room was spacious, with an adjoining ‘sitting room’ – why did people need a whole room just to sit in? – that had been cleared of all furniture and converted into a dojo. Between the two areas, it probably took up more room than the entirety of Juala’s dinky old house, but wouldn’t make up a fraction of the space that Rua’s home did. 

Rua had an angry energy to her. She wanted to hit something. To break something. Part of her wanted to call Otter, or maybe Sami, but she knew if she did, she would only scream her frustrations out to them. She had no desire to yell at either of them, even if it was just to vent. 

She tried exercising, running herself through attack and defensive patterns, sparring and shadowboxing, but it only fueled her anger. She needed to feel her fists actually impact against something, and not just a wall. She wanted to punch Old Grey, that stupid old fart.

How dare he use Kir’s Pact on her like that? How dare Kir not warn her? Bad enough she was in this situation, and while Kir at least wasn’t willing to abuse it, how many people were there that could now give Rua whatever order flitted through their mind? Only one on the entire Islands, but in Mikovia? There’d be at least a dozen. Kir’s family was high ranked, cousins of the royal line, but that still left too many people.

What if one of them came to the Islands? Sent as support for whatever was being planned? How long until someone thought to use her as a weapon against her own people?

She could see it now, the future sprawling ahead of her, just as the past had. Her hands, covered with the blood of people she was supposed to protect, all because someone asked her to. How many times had she seen the faces of the dead in her sleep? Heard their final moments replay in her head like the whispers of the damned?

And it was going to happen again.

She huddled on Kir’s bed, gathering blankets about herself, and angrily cried.

She’d never cried while furious before. It felt good in a way that only unhealthy things could. She screamed, and when she did, she shoved Kir’s pillow to her mouth to muffle the noise. 

Her menu popped up, alerting her that a message was being sent, someone trying to call her. It would be Otter, feeling her through the link, likely startled into checking on her. Rua clicked to ignore it. She wanted to be alone in her pain.

She didn’t know how long she laid there, but it couldn’t have been that long. The shadows of the room barely moved, the sun shifting maybe enough to indicate an hour, maybe two. 

Rua availed herself of the nearby washing basin to clean herself off. She was tempted to also go through Kir’s wardrobe to get a fresh change of clothes, but she knew without checking there was no chance Kir owned anything that would fit her.

So she didn’t bother. Better to be in clothes that were still stained by travel and were singed from having survived a bomb. It might communicate how unhappy she was.

And she was still missing a shoe. She tried not to think of how silly that looked.

She was spoiling for a fight. Maybe it wasn’t the right mindset for her situation. Maybe she should focus on pretending to play nice, and wait for her moment, but she didn’t care. Too much of late had happened that could be laid at Kir’s feet, unintended consequences or not. 

If it’d been anyone else, Rua wouldn’t be hurting so much. But the fact that it was Kir that had done this to her made her realize the appeal of solving one’s problems with fire.

The door cracked open, and Rua didn’t allow herself to see who it was. She kicked the door closed again. It slammed satisfyingly into whoever was trying to enter, sounding a thunk, followed by a startled bark of pain.

A moment later, Kir entered, holding the side of her face. “I guess I deserved that.”

With her other hand, she tossed Rua’s shoe to her. Rua caught it and was tempted to immediately throw it back and just start yelling at Kir when her brain finally caught up to something.

The door had hurt Kir. Rua had anticipated she’d be able to ‘trick’ Kir’s Pact if she acted without knowing it was Kir on the other side of the door, coupled by the fact that Rua didn’t actually attack her. She’d struck the door. From there, it’d been cause and effect, just like when she’d actually injured Kir in their duel. 

So Rua had outsmarted the Pact again. But such a small blow shouldn’t have been able to hurt her. Kir still had her Tenacity protecting her. Or should have.

Kir closed the door behind her, and hesitated before lowering the hand covering her face.

Once again, her visage was a mass of black and purple, her nose and mouth bleeding freely, one eye bloodshot. Her nose was most definitely broken. 

All of Rua’s anger evaporated. She dropped her stupid shoe and rushed to Kir’s side, and looped one of her arms around her shoulders.

“Lean on me,” Rua said.

It was awkward, given their height disparity, but Kir seemed grateful for the air. She limped as she was walked across the room, and Rua got her seated on the bed.

“What happened?” Rua asked.

“I was late,” Kir said. “And lost Il-Su somehow. And there’s rioting in Ri Oa, the city to which I was assigned to keep in order. Old Grey felt the need to publicly discipline me.”

“This isn’t discipline, this is abuse. He’s your father.”

Kir shrugged, staring off into the distance. “And my commanding officer. He’d have done the same to any soldier who’d failed so monumentally. It isn’t the first time I’ve been punished. It won’t be the last.”

“Mikovians,” Rua snarled. “Always solving problems with their fists and not their heads.”

She went to the wash basin and filled it with warm water, then grabbed a cloth and wetted it. 

“Silayans solving problems with their heads,” Kir said with a small smile, then wincing. “Maybe with headbutts.”

“I’m liable to headbutt you.”

“It’s the least I deserve. I’m sorry I didn’t warn you about anyone else being able to abuse my Pact. I’m under orders not to talk about it.”

“Should’ve disobeyed them,” Rua growled, and got to the business of wiping the blood from Kir’s face.

“If only I could.”

“When in our history together have you failed to disregard a ridiculous order?”

“Since getting my Pact.”

“And why would…” Rua trailed off, and searched Kir’s eyes. They were clearly in pain, but not the kind from bruises. Tears were brimming around the edges. “Are you about to tell me why?”

Kir shook her head.

“Does it have to do with your Pact itself?”

Kir didn’t answer, but very meaningfully looked away.

“Tales. Your Pact… it’s a double-edged sword, isn’t it? The ability you have that forces people you defeat to serve you… it works in reverse, doesn’t it?”

Kir pointedly didn’t answer again. 

“How long?” Rua asked. 

“Three days after I got my Pact. I was so excited. I told Old Grey of my abilities. How strong it was, my plans to begin using soul power to enhance my Allure to turn myself into an unbeatable duelist. He put things together on his own. Saw the exploit. Said he wanted… said he wanted a perfect soldier, one with unquestioning loyalty.”

“The fool already had it,” Rua growled.

“Did he? Mikovian history is littered with children killing their parents and taking power. And he said my allegiances were divided. Said I was too Silayan for his liking, that you and Juala had rubbed off on me too much.”

“If only you were more Silayan,” Rua muttered softly. “We could’ve rubbed off on you even more.”

“What was that?”

“Lay back, I’m going to have to reset your nose.”

Kir sighed theatrically, but did as she was told. Rua wished she could take some perverse satisfaction in being able to inflict some pain on Kir, but if anything, it just made her angrier. 

Kir’s nose made a wet pop as Rua shoved it back into position, but Kir herself barely made a sound or reaction to it. 

“Shirt off,” Rua said.

Kir narrowed her eyes. “You’re going to have to be a little more subtle than that.”

“He didn’t just hit you in the face, and we both know it. We need to get those ribs wrapped, and I’m not doing it over your shirt.”

“This bodysuit is all one piece. If the top comes off, so does the bottom.”

Rua gave her a frank look. “We’ve seen each other naked before.”

“When we were kids,” Kir protested. “This is different.”

“One of us is clearly still a child. Clothes off, now. I promise I have no ulterior motive.”

Kir blushed faintly, her ivory skin taking on a cold, blue tone, and she pointed to the other side of the room. “In my cabinet, that’s where I keep my bandages. And there’s a balm. It helps with… the bruising.”

Rua went to go get it, ransacking the indicated cabinet with no intention of being neat in her search. She wished she was above such pettiness, but she was still feeling frustrated. 

She found both a roll of fresh bandages and a jar of something that smelled like disinfectant which was mostly empty, which was likely not a good sign given how often it seemed to be used. She kept her comments to herself, and went back to Kir, who had a blanket wrapped about her waist, and was covering her breasts with both hands.

“Really?” Rua asked.

“We both know why I have to do this.”

Rua rolled her eyes, but said nothing, sitting beside Kir and began the business of applying the ointment to her skin. She was a mass of bruises all over, but mostly focused on her ribs. Nothing seemed to be broken, but they were ginger enough that Kir sucked in sharp breaths every time Rua placed some of the pungent balm on her.

The entire time, Kir sat rigid, as if afraid. This wasn’t the first time Rua had seen such fear from her. The only other time was…

Tales. Otter was right.

She should’ve been annoyed at that. But instead, she felt only a nervous excitement bubbling in her. 

“My pelanoa has a magic, unique to her,” Rua said.

“What magic?”

“She calls it ‘gaydar.’ It’s a mysterious thing, this ‘gaydar.’ But it is more powerful than I thought.” Rua began rubbing ointment into Kir’s shoulders. There were no bruises there, but Kir didn’t seem to realize that fact.

“What… what does it do?”

“It sees into people’s souls. It’s very mysterious. But she knows the hearts of others.”

“It sounds powerful.”

“In some ways, yes. Mostly, I think it’s useless, but in one particular case, the knowledge it’s given has been eye-opening.”

Rua ran her hands along Kir’s back. Feather-light, careful. She was trying to ease, to make Kir used to her touch, to not scare her off. She wanted so badly to press her lips against Kir’s skin, to run her tongue along it, to taste her, every part of her.

But Kir was afraid. Throw her in front of an army, and she wouldn’t back down. But in something as simple as this, she would flee. 

Rua had to be slow. Careful. Meticulous. Most bothersome of all, she had to follow the plan. How ridiculous it’d seemed at first. Now Rua could only marvel at her pelanoa’s insight. 

Still, she needed to push. Needed to communicate something to Kir, even if it was something small. 

“I’m still angry with you,” Rua said.

“I know.”

“Furious, even.”

Kir hung her head a little, but offered no response.

“I don’t need your protection. If anything, you separated me from people I care about, from my duties and responsibilities. And that’s to say nothing of what you and Juala did to me before. So, yes, I’m angry with you. And I will be for a long time.

“But I still love you. And I forgive you, even if you are very stupid.”

“You shouldn’t. I’m a monster.”

“You and Juala might’ve ordered me to kill many who probably did not deserve it, but I still did the acts, knowing them to be wrong. You’re a monster. Juala was a monster. So am I. You’re not special.”

A pause, then, “Say that again.”

“You’re a monster?”

“No. The last bit.”

Why would Kir want her to repeat that? “You’re not special.”

Kir turned to her, awkward with her bruises, and made more so by trying to keep herself covered. Still, she smiled.

“I’m not special,” she said.

“Hardly. You’re a very mundane evil. Mostly because you are so very stupid.”

She wasn’t trying to be insulting. It was more meant to be playful banter, which she expected Kir to try to lob back. But instead, she beamed under it as if she’d received some kind of praise. 

Kir leaned forward and caught Rua in a hug. It startled her, but she returned it. Kir’s flesh against hers felt like a warm furnace, and her bare breasts pressed into Rua in a way she tried not to think about.

“You’re not allowed to be happy over being this stupid,” Rua said. “It just makes you seem even more so.”

“I’m fine with that. I wish… I wish I’d talked to you. Asked, maybe, before I… I’m sorry.”

“Sorry enough to release me?”

Kir hugged her tighter. “It doesn’t work that way. I wish I could. But there’s no unspilling that blood. You should hate me. I deserve it. For what I’ve done to you, and for so many others. For what’s coming.”

“And what is coming?”

“I can’t say.”

Well, it was worth a try. Still, all of Kir’s words rang true. 

“Let’s get those ribs of yours wrapped before you hurt yourself.”

Kir let go reluctantly, and leaned back and raised her arms. Rua tried her best not to stare, to look at anywhere that wasn’t Kir’s breasts. She’d tried to pretend to be uncaring before, but now that they were there, dangling in front of her face, she suddenly couldn’t think of anything else.

She tied the bandages tight, trying to be professional, but her hands slipped a few times, and she had to redo the work. The entire time, there was a kind of silent laughter emanating from Kir.

“Now who’s the child?” she asked.

“You trying doing this while the most perfect tits in the world are just inches from your face.”

“Silayans,” Kir said with an exaggerated eyeroll. “They’re just breasts. They’re no big deal.”

“You were the one who didn’t want to strip in front of me,” Rua growled.

“I was being silly. Besides, I was more afraid about, ah, other areas.”

“What, terrified that I’d fall fingers-first into your vagina?”

Kir snorted, which caused her to immediately wince from her broken nose. “I wouldn’t put it past you.”

“I’m far more subtle than that. I’d probably do something like this.” Rua raised one hand and flicked one of Kir’s nipples.

There was an awkward moment, and neither could meet each other’s eyes. Rua could feel the heat in her own cheeks, and knew Kir was likely blushing just as hard. 

“That hurt,” Kir said.

“Well, I could’ve pinched it. I bet that would’ve really stung.”

“Shot for shot?” Kir asked, and Rua sputtered.

It was an old childhood game they’d played, while pretending to be tough warriors. They’d take turns punching one another’s arms, going progressively harder until one gave up. Kir had always won.

“You want to go shot for shot on attacking each other’s tits?” Rua asked incredulously. 

“You started it.”

“Yes, but I’m a Silayan. We’re all famously sluts and degenerates. Everyone knows Mikovians are prudes. Terrified of anything that happens in the bedroom unless it is between a married couple, with the lights off, and no one talks about what happened afterwards.”

Kir puffed up a little. “I am not afraid of anything.”

Rua winced in pain. “Lie.”

“That is a very annoying Pact.”

“Yes. I know. But it lets me know that you’re a cowardly little Mikovian prude.”

“I am… take your shirt off.”

“What?”

“Take your shirt off, we’re going shot for shot, right now. I’m not afraid.”

Another small headache, but Rua kept that one to herself. Instead, she whipped her shirt over her head and tossed it to the other side of the room and defiantly stared at Kir.

Kir was all soft curves and lovely perfection. She was fit, but in a way that was difficult to see the musculature. She had a body that most pelanoa would fuck pregnant, Mikovian or not, and pay everything they owned for the honour. 

Rua wasn’t the only one staring. Kir reached forward, tracing one hand along Rua’s abs before catching herself.

“Well?” Rua asked, arching an eyebrow.

Kir swallowed, and then hesitantly flicked one of Rua’s nipples. It barely brushed against her. She rolled her eyes.

“Really? That’s the best you could do? The mighty Mikovian has truly shown her strength on the battlefield today.”

Kir screwed up her face and reached forward again, but Rua caught her wrist. 

“That’s not the rules,” Rua said. “You already went. It’s my turn now.”

“Fine,” Kir said. She looked composed, but she was clearly nervous. “We both know who’s going to win in the end.”

Another small headache. Rua smirked, and then reached forward and pinched Kir’s nipple, even giving it a little twist. Kir bit down on her lip and closed her eyes. She clenched the bedsheets with both hands, balling them into fists.

What a ridiculously stupid game this was, and yet, Rua felt that all of this, the humiliation of being beaten, the pain of being separated from Otter – and she guessed Sunny – maybe it was worth it, just for this silly game with Kir. 

“It’s your turn,” Rua said after a moment.

Kir’s eyes popped open, and they had a glazed over look to them. “Right. My turn.”

She reached a hand forward, a hand that shook slightly as she did, and pinched at Rua’s nipple. It was hard and angry and stung in a way she enjoyed, but Kir too quickly retreated, leaning away as if she’d been burned. 

Rua didn’t give Kir a chance to recover. She moved quickly, but not with her hand. She dove in, her mouth taking in as much of Kir’s breast as she could manage, and needled at her with her teeth, biting down on pale flesh and nipple alike.

Kir fell backwards with a yelp, and Rua didn’t let up. She was rough. Deliberately so. All of her frustration finally had a place to go. Not just her anger, but also her lust, her desire for Kir, everything that had built up for years. 

She took it out on Kir’s sole nipple, alternating between biting down and lathering it with her tongue, kissing and nipping in equal measure.

Rua didn’t know how long the two of them laid there, but it couldn’t have been long, not by how time went. But it was long enough that Kir stiffened, and her body shuddered.

It took Rua a moment to realize what had just happened. Kir had just cum. Just from some nipple play, just from their stupid little game.

It made her want to dive in all the more, to see how far she could push it, but Kir scrambled, pushing Rua off her and standing.

“I… I have to go,” Kir said, eyes darting about the room. She raced to her wardrobe and began pulling out clothes. “I have… officer duties to be about.”

Another lie. Rua didn’t push it. Instead, she stared at Kir hungrily.

“You lost,” Rua said. “You know what that means.”

Kir froze, her expression growing even more horrified. 

“You owe me a penalty,” Rua said.

“I… I have to leave. I’m expected.”

“And you can. After your penalty is paid.”

Kir turned, and then bent at the waist, her ass on full display. Rua stared at it. She itched to run her hands across it. But no, that was too far. Especially after what had just happened.

She had to take things slow. Any further escalation, and Kir might panic. Put them in separate rooms, try to distance herself. And Rua couldn’t have that, not now that they were finally talking, finally getting somewhere.

“That’s not what I want,” Rua said. “Maybe next time you lose to me, I’ll give you a spanking. But today, I want you to prove to me you’re sorry.”

Kir turned back to face her. “How… how am I supposed to do that?”

“Just say it. Say you’re sorry for taking me. No avoidance, no half-finished sentences. Apologize.”

“I am. I am sorry. I just… I love you. And I just can’t seem to stop hurting you, and I wish I could. I keep having to choose, and I keep choosing the wrong thing, and I hate myself for it.” Kir’s panic devolved into tears. Barely there, but still flowing. “All I want is to protect you, and I keep screwing up. I need… I need to fix this, but I don’t know how. I think if I try… I’ll just make it worse again.”

All true.

Rua wanted to give Kir a hug. To formally accept the apology. But Kir was already back in her mad dash to put on clothes. To flee. To run away from her problems.

Rua could relate. So she let her. For now.

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