Delilah circled him in slow, deliberate steps, the curve of her hips swaying like a pendulum counting down to impact. Her eyes gleamed beneath the brim of her feathered hat; sharp and calculating. The kind of gaze a lioness might give a gazelle too foolish to flee. She was deciding, not if he was worth the effort to kill, but whether he might be worth keeping alive... briefly.
Leather creaked softly as her gloved hand drifted to the hilt of her rapier, her fingertips tapping it in rhythm with her steps. Not out of need… Delilah never drew without purpose, but like a pianist limbering up before the concerto. The steel was an extension of her mood.
Kai remained where he was, one knee pressing into the sand, the other awkwardly splayed like he was proposing to fate itself.
Delilah's boots stopped just behind Kai, close enough that the heat of her breath tickled his ear and made his spine straighten like a scolded schoolboy.
"You come here," she said, her voice low, "reeking of royal soap... with a very poor proposal. You dare declare war on my singlehood?"
Kai coughed once, less out of nerves, more to find his voice beneath the rising lump of fear and infatuation.
"Love actually," he corrected, glancing up. "Declare love. I've come to court you, Aunt Delilah. I'm sure you already know the identity of who my bride to be is. As your only nephew, do you think it's proper for me to marry her."
"Well, I wouldn't want to marry an orc person, so no, it's not proper." Delilah replied.
"That's why I've decided to court you. If we get married before the time, father won't be able to force me to marry that disgusting beast." Kai tried to convince her, all the while making her oblivious of the fact that Delilah wasn't the only aunt he planned on marrying.
"I don't care what you do to me. Even if I have to take off my entire clothes to satisfy you, I would gladly do so." Kai said, not even thinking about what he just blurted out.
Delilah's eyes gleamed with surprise. Even cuddlebuttom was utterly shocked by the prince's words.
'Your highness, what do you heck are you thinking?!!' The butler screamed in his head.
At that moment, a flicker of metal could be heard sounding like a hiss.
*SHING!*
In a flash too fast to flinch, Delilah's blade whispered free of its sheath and carved through the air with all the grace of a dancer and none of the mercy. Kai's shirt split clean down the center. Both halves floated gently to the ground, catching the breeze like embarrassed butterflies.
Delilah leaned in until the edge of her rapier hovered a breath away from his collarbone, her eyes half-lidded, a predator's purr in her throat.
"Next time," she murmured, "it's the pants."
Kai's Adam's apple bobbed.
"Would... would that be a threat or a promise?"
Her smirk tilted like a dagger slipping between ribs. "Depends. How quick are you in bed—I mean—on your feet?"
"I... dabble," he said, voice cracking slightly, "in both."
She laughed then—not cruelly, but like someone deeply amused that the jester had wandered into the lion's den and tried to bring flowers.
"Cute," she said. "And funny. I like that."
From a comfortable and entirely noncombat zone, Sir Cuddlebottom scribbled furiously into his notebook with one hand, the other holding a lace handkerchief to his forehead.
> Courtship Battle #1
> Shirt: torn to two piece.
> Ego: twitching.
> Pants: under threat.
> At this rate, will the prince be able to win his Aunt's hand in marriage?
Delilah stepped back with a slow, fluid motion, the stretch of her leather armor producing an audible creak that sounded equal parts threat and flirtation. The way the straps hugged her frame suggested she could snap spines or hearts—possibly both, and in that order.
She rolled her shoulders once, loosening up like a predator limbering before the pounce.
"Alright, nephew," she purred, her voice low and edged with amusement. "You want to woo me? Then let's duel. Three minutes. Survive. Impress me. And try not to cry."
"I was born for this," Kai said, puffing his chest with the conviction of a man who had, in fact, not been born for this.
He rose, brushing sands off his knees with as much grace as someone could muster in shreds of a shirt. "Cuddlebottom!" he called. "Bring me my blade!"
The butler appeared with theatrical flair, wheeling forth a velvet-lined case like he was presenting crown jewels at a royal gala. With a flourish, he opened it to reveal the *Royal Thirstslayer*—a masterfully forged blade meant for honorable battle, but now had been turned into a sword for woman impression.
Kai gripped the hilt, lifting the weapon like a knight accepting a divine quest… if the quest was to impress a dangerous woman and have her accept his marriage proposal.
He gave her a rakish grin. "I accept your challenge."
"Good." Delilah stretched her neck, the joints cracking softly. "Let's see if you can handle a real woman."
Then, steel met steel.
The impact rang through the courtyard like a bell struck by lightning. Even the ravens, normally unimpressed by mortal drama, flapped off the rooftop with startled squawks.
Their boots scuffed and kicked off sand as they move across the ground, the sound crispy and rhythmic as they circled each other in a deadly dance.
Kai lunged, aiming wide.
Delilah parried with barely a twitch, her blade sliding against his with a hiss. She moved like a smoke—intangible and untouchable.
As Kai spun with flair, Delilah sidestepped with boredom.
He attempted a flourish he'd practiced in front of his mirror, once. She tripped him with the elegance of someone swatting a fly, then offered her hand to help him up, only to jab him lightly in the stomach with the hilt when he reached for it.
"Ungh," Kai wheezed.
Delilah twirled her rapier between two fingers, a smirk tugging at her lips. "That was foreplay."
Kai blinked. "Huh."
—
60 Seconds In…
Kai was gasping like a fish tossed onto a ballroom floor.
Delilah hadn't even bothered to sweat. She leaned against her blade, resting her weight on it like it was a conversation partner.
"Tell me, Nephew-Lover-Wannabe," she said, lazily, "do you know why they call me the Slayer of Fifty-Six and a Half Bandit Lords?"
Kai braced his hands on his knees. "Because… you killed them?"
"Close," she said sweetly. "But it's because… err,… what's it again? Shit, I forgot… I guess you're right then."
She then proceeded to lunge forward.
Kai yelped and dodged; barely. His right sleeve detached from his shirt as he parried away an attack that nearly gave him a mark on the face.
From the sidelines, Cuddlebottom wailed, "Sire! Please give up, you can't win this fight."
As royalty, the prince wasn't allowed to engaged in any military training having to do with sword fighting, gun fighting, or martial arts, due to some reasons. The little that Kai knew was taught to him by cuddlebuttom, away from everyone's eyes. Not even Kai's father: the king, could win a spar against a thirteen year old trained soldier.
Kai whirled from his position, catching his balance, and lashed out with a desperate strike. His blade tapped Delilah's shoulder with the gentleness of a love note.
"Oho!" he shouted triumphantly. "That counts!"
Delilah blinked once. Then, her lips curled.
Laughter burst from her like thunder wearing lipstick; loud, electric, and beautiful.
"Well, well," she chuckled. "That was bold. Stupid, but bold."
And somehow, that was the first point Kai scored all day.
—
The Last Ten Seconds…
Kai swayed on his feet like a puppet whose strings were unraveling. His arms hung loose at his sides, trembling with the vague memory of muscle. Every breath scraped against his ribs like he'd swallowed a battlefield. The world spun softly, and somewhere in the corner of his vision, glittering spots danced like stars drunk on drama.
Across from him, Delilah didn't even look winded. Her stance was perfect, sword ready, posture relaxed, expression unreadable except for the faint curve of amusement tugging at the corner of her mouth.
She stepped forward, boots clicking softly on the stone, her shadow swallowing his.
Kai braced.
This was it.
The grand, glorious end.
Instead of a final blow, Delilah raised her rapier and, almost delicately, tapped the flat side of the blade against his forehead. Like knighting a very confused, very shirtless squirrel.
"Three minutes," she said, voice like velvet stretched over mischief.
Kai blinked at her, sweat dripping into one eye. "Did I… win?"
Her blade slid back into its sheath with a satisfying *snick*.
"You survived," she replied, stepping back.
"So… that's a yes?"