3. Vent

Long blonde hair, big round blue eyes. Features that spoke of maiden beauty. Curves that remained evident yet soft.

Lucia was only a growing woman, but ironically just like Tristan, she would be considered a hallmark of femininity.

Her manner of speech, light. Her demeanor, calm. Her steps, gracious. Her father had spared no expense in making sure she grew into a woman worthy of royal attention.

"What the heck!" Tristan snarled the moment he found himself in Lucia's room. Sure he had been there an uncountable amount of times, but he disliked her sudden approach.

"Before you start whining, sit," Lucia's tone felt commanding and contained sarcasm, she drew out the chair before her wall mirror. She knew the handsome young man too well.

Tristan frowned but obeyed. Even he hearkened to her. A boy who was considered arrogant!

Silence befell the duo at that point as Tristan returned to the mood he had brought there. Her initial actions had only served in annoying him a little. It was nothing compared to what she had done to him in previous times though.

Reality struck both individuals and the result was a heavy silence.

Lucia heaved a sigh staring at Tristan's face in the mirror. Both their gazes connected through that medium and a soft smile unfolded on her features.

Her eyes; although only slightly swollen caused Tristan great heartache. She had always been a strong girl despite her annoying situation.

She had no friends but him and barely left the mansion except for outings that required her father to show her off.

Her life had been one Tristan felt enraged about. He would rebel greatly were he to be forced into such.

"You never focus on your hair. You look shabby," Lucia's smile turned melancholic and she grabbed the green hair brush on the walled desk before the sitting man.

Tristan remained silent whilst she brushed his long black hair into smoothness. She had done this too many times, but now it felt different.

"Father said the decisions have already been made. The dinner is only to fulfill all righteousness," she began making light strokes on his hair, her other hand keeping the smoothened hair straight.

"The Urtal house is highly influential and close to the royal family. Apparently, they stand among the top three most powerful families in the kingdom. Father was very excited." She further explained, making sure to occasionally glance at Tristan's face. His eyes were emotionless. It troubled her.

Lucia's silver underdress swayed graciously during the small movements she made whilst brushing Tristan's hair. Her soft curves remained barely hidden as the light material stuck to her skin during certain instances.

Tristan was unaffected by all this however, he had never seen her as a woman and more like a sister. One that he never had. She was also his best friend.

"Father said I would be taken care of, and when I bear children for the family It would benefit the town. He said I was the breakthrough they had been waiting for," Lucia's tone was light, holding a tinge of amusement, but also deep sadness.

Tristan felt silent anger burn in his being, his eyes remained calm as he had learned how to sever emotions from his face to catch his enemies by surprise.

Nevertheless, Lucia knew very well how he felt, she had seen him in that state many times after all.

Once; years prior, during a tournament amongst aspiring fighters in the kingdom, a certain contestant had mocked the family and the town, and of course, her.

Everyone knew Medrial was on its last leg and Tristan winning that tournament would bring forth a new chapter for the small settlement.

Lucia had never felt more terrified of Tristan than that day. He had remained silent throughout the battle but had made sure to deal blows that rendered the man unable to tap out.

Tristan had put the boy in a near-death state.

The fight had been put to an end due to the boy's inability to properly surrender and his opponent was declared the winner.

That simple event had put the spotlight on Medrial. Both the good and the bad. Tristan had many haters.

"Why are you telling me all this?" Tristan cut her words short at some point. He struggled to bottle up his rage.

"Are you trying to advertise the idea to me?!" The mere thought made him stand with fury burning In his eyes.

Lucia took a step back, her head lowered. She knew he would never touch her in anger, especially since she understood his anger wasn't towards her.

Tears streamed down her face and she raised her head to reveal her weeping state.

A gust of cold breeze seemed to wash over Tristan's insides as calmness befell him in an instant.

His eyes softened with warm emotions.

"Lucia," he tried to come closer but she stepped back.

"I'm telling you this so you don't cause trouble," she revealed. Tears never stopped running down her fair cheeks.

Tristan furrowed his brows understanding exactly what she meant. When it came to matters that hurt her he was... Overprotective and rash.

"Lucia," he called out again, but she paid no heed to his pleading tone.

"These people are powerful and are capable of putting even you in an unfavorable situation. Promise me that you won't take rash actions that could lead to your death," her tears intensified and her voice fell shaky.

Memories of the many times he had been in a situation close to death rushed through her mind and deep worry befell her.

He would get himself killed with his actions. Sure he was a good fighter, an excellent one even. He could take on multiple individuals at his level, but even he had limits.

A tinge of anger rose on Tristan's head, he wanted to disagree with her. To tell her he wasn't that way, but he couldn't lie to himself. Ideas on how to kill the said person filled his mind.

"What? Do you think I'm gonna let some stranger take you?... Simply because your foolish father needed more money for his stupid town!" Tristan lashed out, already regretting his words. But he was known for his bluntness. Maybe rudeness.

Still, seeing Lucia wince at the sharpeners of his sentences tore through his chest like a hot knife on butter, opening raw wounds.

"Fuck your dad. Fuck this town, fuck everyone. If they cannot deal with their issues without sacrificing someone then they should all just perish!" A slap arrived on Tristan's face at that instant. Its high-pitched sound echoed in the room.

Shock.

His eyes cleared and his gaze caught sight of the deep pain oozing out of his best friend's features.

"This town fed you, provided a roof over your head, loved you. You have every reason to owe my father and the people of this town," Lucia's tone turned calmer than Tristan expected. He had truly hurt her.

"They used me the moment my talent was spotted. And I became this being that knows nothing but fighting," Tristan spoke those words through his teeth. Like a curse.

His hate poured forth through those simple sentences, even if they held layers of roughly aligned emotions. And secrets.

Folding her arms with her gaze still focused on Tristan, Lucia called upon every mental resilience within her to not burst into another round of tears.

The emotions in his eyes did short work of her feelings.

'How did this become?' She asked herself. Lately, Tristan seemed to be filled with hate and malice.

"My father did what he could to put food on our table, and a roof over our heads," she stated locking gazes with the man before her. Oh, how proud of him she was. She would tell the world if she had the chance.

Unfortunately, nothing lasted forever.

"You always try to justify his actions," Tristan took a step forward, fed up and annoyed.

"Get out." Lucia's now somber tone announced. She couldn't take it anymore.

Stunned, Tristan pulled his head backward.

"What?"

"Get out." She replied, equally as intense as before.

"Lucia, are you really asking me to leave simply because I stated the truth?" A wave of raw sadness rushed through Tristan's chest as he uttered those words.

Lucia lowered her head before sharply bending and picking up the green brush that had fallen to the ground when he stood earlier.

She hurled it at him. "I'm not asking, I'm telling you to!"

Tristan tilted his head to the side, letting the brush strike the wall mirror and spread cracks in it.

Lucia's breathing intensified at that point. She stared into Tristan's dark eyes and saw only utter coldness. Wounds opened In her heart at that sight. She didn't want him to see her cry that badly.

"Okay," Tristan replied approaching the door.

"Have a good time during the dinner. I won't be attending," he announced in a low tone, opening the door and shutting it gently.

Lucia fell to her knees and at that point, tears poured out of her eyes as she wept severely.

Standing outside her door, Tristan heard her weeping and felt an intense burst of heat ravage his being.

He stormed down the corridors at that point, his mere marching inflicting fear in the hearts of the maids.

He needed somewhere to vent. Fast.

Tristan left the mansion, hiked the mountain, and went to his training location to simply wave his sword with all he could muster.

He didn't stop until he tired himself out.