Miles
When the fight started, I winced and cringed at every attack Freyja landed on Kitten. Her swing was hard and unforgiving, bruising in punishment. There had been multiple times when Katrina staggered from the blow that I wanted to cut in and end the fight, but I forced myself to stay still and not interfere. The only thing that made that task possible was imagining how I'd torture Freyja for harming my Fated.
For each blow she dealt and landed, I'd slice into her with the knife given to me by Maahes, making tiny lacerations all over her unblemished skin. Reveling in the pain the ancient gift bestowed upon her. Maahes weapons were those of legend, each item made differently and intended to cause its victim an uncouth amount of pain. The knife he'd given me filled its intended targets with fire, burning them inside out. One well-placed stab and the victim would combust from the inside out. Several small slices would make the target feel as if they were covered in severe burns, with the fire still licking at their wounds. Yes. It would be perfect torture for the professor who'd decided to enact her vendetta on my fiancé.
And yes. This demonstration was a vendetta. I didn't for one second believe the bullshit she'd sprouted at the beginning of class about Katrina being powerful and needing an opponent more equal to her. If that was the case, the professor would've gotten an upperclassmen for the exam, not chosen herself. Hell, she could've even called in a graduate or a nonstudent, such as Herc, to battle against Kitten. No, this, plain and simple, was a way for Freyja to tear Katrina down. And when the examination ended, I'd be going straight to the school board to have her teaching license stripped and then to my father so he could ship her ass back to Asguard.
"Fuck!" Katrina cried, drawing my full attention back to the battle arena.
"YIELD!" Freyja bellowed, looking smuggly at my fierce kitten.
She stood still with one hand on her arm, glaring ruthlessly at Freyja, the other holding her spear. I could see the pain lacerating her face, but I couldn't tell where it was coming from. The agony she freely showed told me it was more than just the bruising from the blows. Something else had happened, something I hadn't saw. Damnit. I should've been paying closer attention. My father would berate me for having lost my concentration. Attention to detail was a lesson he'd instilled into me at a young age, and here I was, failing at it miserably.
When she removed her hand from her arm, it became obvious what had caused her to cry out. Freyja's last blow had cut into her, leaving her arm gushing with blood. The wound was deeper than a knick that would've been made by a blunt blade. Sometime during the battle, the charms had been removed from the weaponry, making each weapon lethal. I rushed to the arena, intent on ending the battle, not caring if it gave Katrina a failing grade. I couldn't stand by and watch Freyja slaughter the love of my life.
"Don't!" Katrina growled out, turning her glare onto me, having felt the presence of my aura nearing the arena. "Let me handle this!" She snarled, taking her spearhead and slashing into her shirt, tearing the cloth from the bottom, making a makeshift bandage for her arm. "Continue." She gestured to the Valkeryie, baiting her to attack, "A Queen doesn't retreat."
Katrina's comment spurred Freyja into a frenzy, her attacks more fierce, each strike slashing faster than the last, making it almost impossible for the untrained eye to see as her sword flew with each swing. Each strike is met with a clang, Katrina managing to parry each attack, finally gaining the knowledge needed to hone in on her opponents fighting style.
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