Tourney Arena

"I never said I was afraid. Which is why I tried. And even so, this was no place for you. No, not today." She growled, getting angrier with him sharing the blame. It was a rogue's tournament, not for knights such as his standards.

The blade had almost reached the middle of his arm when he knelt. "So you're surrendering, just like that?" Natalya frowned, then twisted the knife in his flesh deeper. As if she'll let him lose after all of these. It would only erase his trace of guilt that delighted her if she won. "You honestly would think I would even consider accepting your pity?" She growled, adding more pressure to the knife. Part of the force sent crying pain to her own wound for flexing her muscle, but she did her best not to attend it and focus instead on the knight.
"What of an empty win would it be if I took it. Yours would be much more meaningful." Indeed, it would be. But not on an optimistic way.

"Tell me of the reward you wish, my knight." Natalya said with so much disgust and bitterness. "And accept your victory, along with what I've told. Claim your reward to help you see the monster you are. "
Contrary for what she originally wanted, her victory would mean absolutely nothing but his pity now. His, however, would prove everything that she said to be true. At least, in her beliefs. Let guilt consume his dreams once claiming the reward he intended.

He let out pained screams, however he tried to suppress them. Unable to bear it any longer, he grabbed her wrist and forced the blade out of his flesh, out of her grasp. When he tried to stand up, his ankle made it difficult for his body to comply, but somehow, though slow, he did so without letting go of her. "That you may be right," he forced out of his lips.

"And what can you possibly gain from this? Honor? You would not even tell your name." His frown was becoming more visible. There was guilt within him, but guilt not strong enough, he supposed. She was a stranger, not someone he held dear to dreadfully regret his wrongdoing done against her. Still, it was difficult to wear a smile and land victory in good faith. None of this was gallant or honorable. It was some foul play and he did not know whose part played more significantly to the end result. "I see. I'm a monster to you. Others won't be so forgiving." He winced in pain when he tried to move, his face in grimace. But he pulledher to him, locking her in his arms and preventing her from squirming away. "I'll tell you what, Lady Czarina... For every swing of your blade, for every damage you have done to a man, comes the obligation to accept that the same pain can be inflicted upon you. It matters not that you're a woman. But it doesn't change that I failed you today, I fear. It should be beyond me to hurt fair ladies." But what good would a request for pardon do?


Alfred took the knife she stabbed him with earlier—the proud tiger of the Czars and red with blood. He held it to her neck and let it stay there until the horn would be heard. Alfred counted to seconds. And finally, the end of it all. He released her. "I'll see you at the ball. And you will dance with me."

"For your own benefit, it would be most preferred for you not to assume who I am so quickly." She chuckled, without a hint of resistance in his attempts to claim victory. "I doubt you'd adore it, trust me." There's no saying in what trouble she can cause if he'd still continue to trail after her. Not after revealing her identity, in a way gaining politics and authority into the game instead of sheer battle skills and blades like today. More so, the problem it could cause if her brother found out about this would be the most grievous.

"I am not a Czarina... Not within the tourney, at least." She frowned, grasping his arm wrapped securely around her neck and eyeing the blade. Half of her felt betrayed for turning her back on it, the other thought it was wiser to keep a low profile on what had happened here for the sake of her own family's name. After all, the only thing that mattered above her own vanity is her kin.
"Forget this, for your sake and mine." Taking deep breaths, she listened to the horn call out. And the moment it did, she screamed for Koshechka's attention to come within the arena. The faithful feline did so, prancing from the bleachers to Natalya's side in all fierceness just as her owner would.

With what's left of her energy, the belle jumped on to the tigress' back the moment she was released. Hissing at every movements that caused the muscles of her wounds to rip wider. Just a little more patience, and all wounds would be tended. The white tiger had her eyes on him the whole time, emitting a low growling with her upper lip curled to exhibit bare fangs.
"You dolt." To his request, Natalya rolled her eyes. "Gold will be delivered to you by the morrow, if you would keep your mouth sealed. As for the dance..." She trailed off, scanning him from head to toe. She doubted he could even dance tonight, not with the gashing wound she inflicted on his calf.
"You can't command me. You're just a knight." She scoffed, now looking smug for her higher status.

"I truly hope I'll never see you again, my knight... For your sake, and mine," She repeated, bidding farewell and directing Koshechka to lead her out of the place. The tigress' snow white fur smudged with red because of Natalya's blood, but it was easier to wash it off the feline than force to attend the ball tonight in such injuries. Hopefully, she wouldn't trip or slip.

Alfred needed not gold, his family already had a plentiful reserve. But Alfred spoke nothing when he watched her mount a white tigress—the animal House Czar held dear. The lady did not even bother to claim her reward for her efforts. But he was sure this won't be the last of them.

The knife was still in his hand. It was only then did he had time to admire the craftsmanship. Part of him wanted to keep it as a token from her, but it would only be good faith to return it back to the lady of the north. Alfred strapped it back on his belt, trudging to pick up his sword and sheath it.

He was met with eager men, curious to see what has become of him. Alfred only smiled at them and instructed them to retrieve his armor, tend his wounds, and hand him some water. It was no easy process to clean off the blood, sew, and close the wounds. In fact, it seemed more painful. Luckily they have called halfway through the battle. Alfred would be generous in returning the favor. "Just get me ready to ride my horse, and I'll be fine." He did refuse to answer any questions regarding the girl.

Should he see her tonight, he would be garbed in rich robes under the colors of House Atherton.