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Hector Euarch was a quiet rabbit. A scholar and a writer, he enjoyed his life of quills and parchment as he worked his days as the council scribe. So when he was rewarded for his diligent work by the town leader by being appointed as the personal assistant to one of the most respected individuals in the community, he could not have been happier. However, the respected individual was not what he expected.

After a bit of research, he discovered her name was Baigh Fel, a feline war-maiden, and a rapidly rising star of the gladiators in the region. She had fought countless battles in the arena and even spent some time in the military. And now, he was her assistant. What did an arena fighter need with an assistant? Hector had no clue, but he dare not deny a...reward from such a prominent figure.

Hector put away the last of his things and took a step back to admire his work. His room shared the same style as the rest of the house: aged, beige stone walls with a stripe of green just below the ceiling and aged dark wood furniture. With all his belongings put away, he would begin his new life as the assistant to an arena fighter. Speaking of which, he had yet to see this Miss Fel he was supposed to be working for. Seeing as he needed to find and talk to her, and an ever growing curiosity of his new home, he decided to give himself a tour.

"I'll have to ask her what I am actually going to do here," he walked down the hall and entered the den, a rather barren room for a famed warrior, only two wide seats around an unlit fire pit in the center, furnished the room. There was a doorway on the left wall which led to a small kitchen and near that, on the adjacent wall, was the entrance. The room was rather dark due to the blinds being closed, but the twilight they created was strangely lovely. There was a bookcase filled with tomes of various size and color in the left corner beside the hall entrance and a small cabinet set on the opposite wall. He turned[J1] around and went back down the hall, besides his room; there were four other doors he had yet to explore. The first on the left led to a large bath room. On either side of the room was a large wooden cabinet while in the center was a large marble bath. Behind the bath was what appeared to be a smaller fire pit surrounded by chairs, presumably to be used as a small steam room. The door opposite the bath was an armory. A few stocked weapon racks lined each wall beneath wall mounted shields of varying shape and size. In the center was a training dummy which had clearly been through years of use, and off in the far corner was mannequin donning a set of worn plate armor. The room next to the armor room, opposite Hectors, was a small broom closet. Besides a mop and broom and bucket, there was an old sheet over a chest, a large lock visible just under the sheet.

"And about that, I should ask her about that. If I could find her that is," he turned and continued down the hall and opened the last door into another bedroom that was much larger than his.

"Hello?"

He hesitantly stepped inside, clothes and scrolls scattered the ground here and there. A waste basket in the corner overflowed with trash. A large dented sword lay on the dresser on the right wall while a closed window was on the left. He walked over to the window and opened the curtains, and then proceeded to approach the bed. Covered by a thick blue blanket was who he presumed was the war-maiden herself. He could not believe she was still sleeping, especially with half the day already being gone. He debated whether to just let her awake on her own but eventually decided against it and lightly tapped her on her shoulder, "Excuse me? Baigh Fel."

She grumbled and shifted slightly. Hector sighed and tapped her a bit more forcibly, "Miss Fel?"

She sighed and stretched under the sheets, lifting her head and drowsily looked at the one who interrupted her sleep, "Who...what...who are you?"

"My name is Hector Euarch. The chief appointed me as your assistant. We did not meet when I moved in this morning."

She rubbed her face and yawned, "Oh right, I remember you bunny boy. New assistant, huh? Well, the first thing you can assist me with is making me breakfast, I haven't eaten yet."

"Well, it is actually noon now."

"There is no wrong time for breakfast, Long Ears, remember that."

"Do you not have a chef," he looked around at the cluttered floor, "or a maid?"

She stretched and rose to a sitting position with a devious smirk, but her eyes remained half lidded and somewhat drowsy, "What would I need any of those for when I have you? Now, I am going to change and unless you'd like to watch, I enjoy sweetened meat and orange juice."

Before Hector could retort with anything she began to remove the wrap around her chest, prompting him to turn around with a frustrated sigh.

"Thank you, bunny boy."

"My name is Hector."

"Nick names are endearing, I suggest getting used to them. You'll find the meat in the cupboard."

Hector glanced backwards to see her dropping the wrap on the ground, her arm covering her chest and a smug expression on her face. He walked out of the room but could hear her say, "I think this is the start of a wonderful friendship, Long Ears."

Chapter 2

Hector strode pleasantly down the hall, humming as he went along with his scroll and quill in hand. He unfurled the parchment and read over his to-do list as he entered the kitchen.

"Good morn, Mr. Hector, good morn! I have been working all morning and I have installed the ice crystal just as you wanted."

"Excellent, thank you Mallard, and this should work as I imagined, correct?"

The lanky stork turned his head and craned his neck to face his shorter friend, "According to what I have learned about ice crystal, yes," he smirked and sighed, "Hector, you have always fascinated me with your mind, but this is just...insane."

Hector laughed and stroked back one of his ears, "Well my mother did always say I was an odd one."

"Did you know, ice crystals were discovered before you or I were even born, and their ability to lower temperature, though more recent, still long before our time. And goodness, we still hardly understand their capabilities! And never have I heard of such a low-costing, domestic use as keeping food in cold storage. Now for weapons, of course, and on a larger scale, yes, for village food houses and such, but those endeavors are not only quite expensive because of the enchanted stone and metal that must be used to control the crystals, but also because of the large scale that usually must be used to have any sort of effectiveness."

"That is what I was worrying about. This small scale may not be cold enough to keep the food from rotting," he snickered, "or it may explode after I put food in."

Mallard gave his peculiar avian laugh, "I addressed that before starting, mainly from your suggestion of salt water. Water is an excellent transferring agent of the freezing aura of the crystals, but only until the point that the water freezes. But with salt water, the temperature can go far lower, and therefore amplify the effects of the crystals on a smaller scale. I must say, it is an ingenious idea if not a bit pricey for more common folk to afford."

"But worth every coin. Thank you again Mallard, you have been a great help."

"Nonsense, I'm glad to help you and I'm honored to provide any kind of service to the War-maiden. And you know how much I love tinkering with crystals."

"Well I appreciate your enthusiasm."

Hector and Mallard turned around to see Baigh leaning against the entrance. Mallard quickly bowed, "Good morning, War-maiden."

She nodded in acknowledgement, "Hello to you as well stork. Hello, Long Ears."

Hector lazily waved his paw, "Hello Baigh, I am a bit surprised to see you awake this early."

She exhaled through her nose and smirked, "So am I, but I do have an important fight today. So some morning practice was in order," finishing, she turned and left the room.

Stork looked back to Hector when he believed she was out of ear shot, "So how long has it been?"

Hector sighed and rubbed his neck, "It has been about three months now."

"How is it? I mean, you make working for the War-maiden sound interesting with all of the arena goings-on, but you usually seem annoyed if not upset when I ask you about living here."

Hector sighed, "To be honest, I've enjoyed my time here despite how often I complain. This house has been a joy to renovate, and with the coin that I'm given to aid Baigh, it allows me much more freedom with what I can do."

He smiled and motioned toward the cooling cabinet, "I can see."

"Yes, it has been almost fun, like when I built forts as a kit."

"Those were the days, but what about the War-maiden? Is she difficult to live with?"

Hector cracked his knuckles, "Despite titles and glamor, Baigh is still just a headstrong female with a fiery temper. A right pain most of the time, but over all she is a decent enough female."

"I see. I've always pondered who she was outside of the arena."

Hector laughed weakly, "Yeah, it really isn't. Now Mallard, you follow the arena more so than me, ironically, can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

"Have any of the higher ranking female arena fighters married?"

Stork seemed surprised by the nature of the question, "Not that I know of. A few may be prone to some drunken revelry at bars and may take someone home, but I have not heard of any of them having a mate."

"I have seen a few suitors get turned away by Baigh at the arena, one just yesterday, so I was just curious about if this happened often to others.'

"It happens; sometimes people do take a liking to them. Well, it has been great seeing you again and a delight making this contraption for you, but I really must be off."

Hector patted his shoulder and walked him to the door, "Thank you again for your help Mallard, enjoy the rest of your day."

Hector shook his wing and Mallard left, leaving the rabbit alone in the den. He sighed and walked back to the kitchen and picked up his list, "Now let's see."

He marked through kitchen renovations and brought his quill to the next item, organize the armory. He rolled up the parchment and put it in his pocket and proceeded down the hall. He entered the room and picked up the nearest weapon, an iron scimitar, and brought it to the weapon rack designated for swords. He went about picking up a few things here and there, and thanks to his monotonous task, his mind was free to wander to other things.

He was thinking about what Mallard had told him. It was an interesting aspect of the life of arena fighters, if not a bit personal. He knew that the male fighters would often have a wife or at least someone willing to bed them on a regular basis, but the female fighters are typically thought of as being completely focused on their training. But with his new, much closer, interactions with other fighters and his living with Baigh, he discovered the rumors that prevailed about them were mostly false. They were usually quite concerned about retaining the image that they were expertly trained and viciously fierce, because the image was often enough to discourage others, particularly male fighters, from not taking them seriously as warriors. However, quite frankly, at least to Hector, there was no image, they all were expertly trained and fierce. They trained as much as the men, and were equally strong. Pertaining to relationships, he never asked them directly, but would often overhear conversations and innocent questions on his part gave him enough to know that quite a few of them were quite interested in having mates of their own, some of them even imagining having children. Many a time, he had overheard how difficult it was for them to find a possible suitor who was seeking them, and not their title.

As he placed the last shield on the wall, a distinctive thought formed. Many of the fighters had lives outside the arena; they were gardeners, merchants, blacksmiths, painters, and teachers, and this fact was constantly overshadowed by their titles as gladiators and fighters. Hector sighed; it was a sad if not interesting conclusion. He scratched through another item on his list. The next, and last, item was to consult Baigh on her upcoming fight.

He let out more of groan than a sigh. Consulting her was more like debating, whatever plan he set out to help her was usually argued against in favor or of her gut feelings. They usually could make some compromise but it often took much longer than he would like. He took a deep breath, rolling up the quill and scroll, and walked to her room. Entering her bedroom, which was much cleaner now than when he first started months ago, he approached her as she sat on her bed in her casual shirt and pants, sharpening a sword in her lap.

"Baigh, I would like to discuss your upcoming fight and what tactics may help you."

She glanced up briefly from her sharpening, seeing the scroll and knowing what he was about to do, "Then discuss," and she went back to sharpening.

He rolled his eyes and walked over and leaned against the wall, "The armor you usually use should suffice. It is sturdy enough to take a hit from the pike your opponent will be using and flexible enough to allow you to dodge effectively."

She affirmed with a light grunt.

"I would suggest not using your wrist guard in favor of your iron pecan shield"

She scoffed and looked up, "Iron pecan shield?"

Hector could feel his face blushing slightly, "You know, that shield that clamps onto your forearm and looks like a large pecan."

She laughed and went back to sharpening, "Okay, whatever you say, Long Ears."

He adjusted the collar on his shirt and continued, "That particular shield would allow you more control and may help you deflect his jabs and allow a greater chance to create an opening. Next, I suggest using your shortened broad sword. The wideness of the blade will allow for easier blocking and control and the hilt will stop him from slashing at your hand if you do happen to clash."

She answered quickly without looking up, "No. I'll use my usual sword."

"Baigh, your sword is longer and the hilt would not provide much control if you clash with him. He could disarm you."

"Not when I'm using my blade right. I've fought spearmen before, and my sword works just fine against them. What's another one?"

"Be that as it may, I have been watching his fights and he has a habit of forcing his opponents to clash with the large blade of his spear, giving him a great chance to disarm them."

"Well it may work on the others, but I am perfectly capable with my sword."

Hector was beginning to get a bit flustered, "Please do not argue with me on this one. I have seen the tactics that he has been using, and he has a pattern that directly puts your sword at a disadvantage."

She stood up, frowning slightly, and walked up to Hector and put a finger on his chest, "Listen Hector, I know you do your research and studying, but fighting is another world entirely. You can consult me all you like, some of your suggestions are actually helpful, but when it comes to being in that arena, the final decision is up to ," before she could finish her sentence, Hector slapped her hand away, his cheeks flushed red and a scowl across his face.

"No, you listen, you stubborn cat! My research and my studying are backed up by fighting! I know what I'm talking about, and if you keep this cocky attitude, you won't win; you'll lose and in the worst case, die; all because of your foolish arrogance."

Baigh was taken back, but then was quickly overcome with rage, throwing the sword in her hand to the ground with a sharp clang, "What the hell did you just say? Foolish arrogance? You think that you know what it is like fighting for your life in that arena? Let's put your words to the test then. Sparring room. Now," hissing her final word through clenched teeth.

Riding the wave of his anger, Hector dropped his scroll and quill to the ground, "Gladly."

They marched through an opening to the right of her door and entered a large, empty room aside from two weapon racks filled with dulled blades, one each side. In the center was a large rectangle marked out in white paint on the floor. Baigh strode over to the right and picked out a sword with a purple ribbon trailing from the grip. Hector walked to the other rack and picked out a spear and removed his green vest. They moved to opposite ends of the rectangle, Hector with a determined, but worried, stare and Baigh with a confident scowl. The room was silent until Baigh asked, "Ready?"

Hector nodded, launching Baigh into a charge towards him. Taking a defensive stance, he blocked her first downward slash, but Baigh took this opportunity to kick him hard in his side, staggering him backwards. He coughed several times, but remained in his position.

She charged again, coming in at a lower angle. Hector lunged forward, rapidly closing the gap between them, and thrust the spear forward. Baigh shifted left, easily dodging the attack, resulting in Hector's spear being planted in the ground. However, in an act that caught Baigh completely off guard, he swung around the firmly planted spear, landing directly on her back with a dull thud. Pulling the spear from the ground, he did a large jump and landed a few feet away, weapon at the ready.

Baigh quickly got to her feet, somewhat shaken by what just transpired. She cracked her neck and began walking towards him, her sword firmly gripped in her hand. Hector tightened his grip and lunged forward, slashing sideways. Baigh raised her sword and blocked it, guiding the strike over her head and into the ground. Spinning around, she struck the side of Hector's head with the butt of her sword and followed by a swift strike to his temple, sending him staggering to the ground. Hector ignored the pain pulsing in his head and swung his leg forward as hard as he could, but Baigh leapt away before he could hit her. He shakily rose to his feet and grabbed the spear, taking his defensive position once again.

Baigh smirked, she was rather impressed that he could last this long, but she could not let him beat her. She twirled her sword in her hand and charged forward, wanting to end this now. Hector braced himself and raised the spear, and then clashed his sword forward against her raised blade. They struggled against each other, Baigh slowly gaining the upper hand, but then Hector shifted his hand slightly and the spear head slid down the blade and over the sword hilt, forcing Baigh to drop her sword. Following his momentum, he swung his blade back, but in doing so the blade went too close to her face and grazed her cheek. After the thump of the sword falling to the ground, a terrifying silence hung in the air as both took in what had just happened. Hector had struck Baigh. Baigh had lost to Hector

Hector set his weapon aside, "I am...sorry, but this is what I was talking about," Baigh started to breathe heavily and picked up her sword, "He does that...and disarms you," she snarled and charged forward.

Hector quickly grabbed the spear and brought it up to defend himself against her attack. Baigh slashed downward with such incredible force that the pole of the spear splintered apart, and then, throwing her sword aside, she chose instead to lunge forward and tackle Hector to the ground. She pinned one of his arms over his head and delivered a single blow to his right eye, all while Hector struggled to hold her at bay with his unrestrained hand. She was about to hit him again, but she hesitated as she brought her fist back. She looked into his terrified expression and growled, her teeth bore in furious scowl.

Hector's eyes were shut tight, until he felt something fall onto his face. He opened his good eye and saw Baigh was beginning to well up, appearing to be desperately fighting back tears. He was beginning to grow less concerned for himself and more for her, when she suddenly moved her arms to his shoulders and forced her head under his chin. She remained there for a few seconds, an almost inaudible whimper escaping, and then quickly stood up, facing away from Hector.

"You made your point. I'll use the sword," and with that she left without another word.

Chapter 3

Hector just laid there, dumbfounded by how quickly things escalated and ended, but soon stood up and brushed himself off.

As he looked to find Baigh, his face began to pulse, waves of hot pain flowing from his swollen eye, "Curse it all," he mumbled under his breathe.

He could not find Baigh, though he admittedly did not look very hard, but assumed that she left to blow off some steam. He lightly touched his eye and immediately regretted his decision as a sharp pain stung his face, "I'll talk to her later. I need something for this."

He sighed and walked to the bath room, searching the through the cabinets for a medical salve, "Where are you? Here? No. Why are there so many jars in here that are not marked? Are you? Yes. Okay."

He took the ointment out and walked to the cabinet with the mirror, "My god that looks awful already."

The right side of his face was somewhat swollen, but it was worse around his eye where the skin around it had taken on a purple hue and had swollen to the point where he could barely see out of it. He sighed then looked back towards the bath, "I might as well wash my face before putting this stuff on, and maybe a bath will help with the swelling."

He turned around and began to strip, and let his mind play back the events of what just happened. He knew Baigh was a bit ill-tempered but did not expect anything like this. He picked up a bar of soap from the cabinet and stepped into the bath, turning the facet, causing water to gush from several holes along one end of the tub. He smiled and sat against that end, enjoying the feeling of the water splashing over his head.

"She just had to be so hard headed with a stupid sword."

He lazily slapped the surface of the pooling water and sighed, he could not blame her for everything. Admittedly, He...snapped. He could not help himself though; he was already displeased with having to argue with her, but the condescending tone of her words really infuriated him. He may not be a so called fighter, but that does not mean what he has to say about it is not relevant. And then he proved he was right when he made her drop her sword.

Hector sighed, frowning from his mood and discomfort, and plugged two of the holes pouring water. Another feature he had installed in the house, by plugging the holes, the other shot water with more force, resulting in two streams being shot into the air which then showered down on the other side of the tub. He removed the drain stop and stepped into the downpour.

"I should probably apologize, at least for slapping her hand like I did," he laughed at his forgetfulness, "And for cutting her cheek, that probably deserves an apology as well."

He reached for the bar of soap on the edge of the tub and lathered his paws, his mind again wandering to what happened. Why had she stopped hitting him? After that cut, he honestly believed that she was going to kill him. But then she didn't, which was strange, a good thing, but strange. And then there was crying, or what he assumed was crying. He filled the bucket and dumped it over his head, "That was the strangest part."

After living with her for so long, he had learned a few things about Baigh: first, she had a penchant for speaking her mind, and secondly, she hardly every showed any emotions other than arrogance...or confidence. Was that arrogance on her part or was that just her being confident in her abilities? She has been at this for much longer than three months.

Hector turned off the water, climbed out of the tub, and picked up a towel and the ointment from the cabinet. As he dried his head, he thought harder about the question he just posed to himself.

"If she were being arrogant, she probably would not have stopped hitting me. And in that case," he sighed, wrapping the towel around his waist and walking out of the room with a puzzled expression, "She was so angry because" he stopped and looked up, "She was angry because I called her decisions foolish. She was angry because I undermined her years of experience based on my three months of experience."

Hector sighed heavily and brought his hand to his temples, "You idiot."

He knew he could be overbearing at times when he attempted to do what he thought would be helpful to someone, but he never though it would escalate to this.

"And even if you are wrong, and she is just being arrogant. You still need to apologize about nearly killing her."

He sighed again and went to his room, deciding that after he applied the cream to his still swollen eye, he would delve into one of his books until Baigh returned home.

Chapter 4

The deafening cheers of the arena audience began to fade as Baigh proceeded down the staircase to the bowels of the arena, her face fixed in a savage glare forward. She exited into a large practice room, various fighting mannequins and archery targets were in use around the room, as well as a few sparring couples. She paid no one any attention and left through another door and down another staircase, this time entering the Inner Ring, a special section of the arena exclusive to only the most skilled and famed arena fighters. She walked over to a small alcove and saw the resident healer of the Inner Ring, Skrel Namsed, tearing cloth into strips for bandages. She looked up from her work, spitting a piece of cloth from her mouth, "Baigh! Congratulations dear, I heard that you won your fight with that elk spearman from the North."

Baigh's scowl began to relax as she stepped inside the alcove and sat across from her friend, "Yeah, I just did. News travels fast, huh?"

"Sure does" she tore another strip of cloth, "From what the others told me, you were absolutely savage out there. You look terrible though," she gave a cheeky grin.

Baigh laughed weakly and sighed, bringing her head to her paws, "I don't know Skrel, I figured beating that elk would help with this aggression, but I still feel pent up, you know?"

She tore another strip, "No dear, can't say that I do."

"I came to fight earlier to blow off some steam from some stuff that happened with Long Ears, and usually a round in the arena helps but this time...I don't know, just didn't work."

"Well did something different happen this time?"

Baigh sighed.

"So it did. Maybe you just need to clear your head rather than bust someone else's."

Baigh groaned and leaned back against the wall, "Maybe."

"Try taking a shower in the back. That's where I go when I need time to think, and I'll keep anyone from coming in."

Baigh stood up, "Thanks, I think I will," she was about to leave when she suddenly turned around and grinned, "And you better not scare me like last time!"

Skrel gave a devilishly innocent grin, "Oh I wouldn't dream of it, dearie."

Baigh laughed and left, walking to the back and passing through a set of thick curtains. The small room she entered had a bench along one wall, a set of towels stacked on one end, with a series of rectangular holes bore into the stone of the wall above it. She began to unlatch her armor, welcoming the sensation of freedom as each piece of her armor fell to the ground. She undid the knot holding her chest wrap in place and stepped out of her underwear, and then set both down in the hole holding her armor.

She stepped into the room, completely bare except for a series of holes along top of the walls and a single pillar in the center with a small shelf with chunks of soap. A chill struck through her spine as her foot landed in a puddle of cold water. She walked up to pillar and pulled a lever, there was a low rumbling, then water began pouring out in heavy flows. She stepped into one and shuddered from the pleasure of cold water coursing over her battered and tired body. She ran her paws over her chest and down her sides, an electric sensation resonating throughout her body as her paws moved. As she began to relax, her mind was free to wander.

Hector Eurach, Long Ears, she had only lived with him two months and ever since, he has been an absolute bastard. Always second guessing her decisions, making alterations to her house without her permission, and flaunting his higher education over her, she cracked her knuckles from her mounting frustration. She exhaled heavily, regaining her composure. She couldn't just let her anger get the best of her or else; her hand wandered up and touched the scar on her cheek.

He was...he never said that he was trying to be condescending, but he comes off that way when he speaks so matter-of-factly to her. He means well, but he just comes off as such an ass sometimes...or maybe she just takes it the wrong way. Hell, he is always so reserved with his emotions that she could never really tell what his real intentions were half the time. And the alterations he made to the house, he never really talked to her about them, but even the few times he did, she could hardly follow what he was saying because he would explain everything like his stork friend. They both make explanations so complicated. And when he did try to explain things to her, it was like he was speaking to a child. She growled lightly, and then sighed heavily.

But she never told him how he made her feel, so how could he know... or maybe he does and just doesn't care. She sighed and stepped out of the stream to grab a piece of soap, shifting her train of thought.

As she lathered her paws, a thought suddenly came to mind. Why should she care? In fact, why does she care at all? She had never wanted to have someone get along with her, so why start now? She slid her fingers through the fur along her face and neck, and then ran them down her sides. Why does this little twerp mean anything to her, however a pang of discomfort rang out in her chest when called him a twerp.

Why was she even letting this bother her? She stumbled over reasons why she would not care about him as she lathered her toned legs, but none of them seemed legitimate. When she brought her paws up her legs and over her naval, a small smile played across her face as an epiphany dawned on her. Why she cared about what he thought of her, why she felt so guilty for attacking him after she lost. Over their short time together, she had taken a liking to him. However, as her paws passed over her chest, the smile faded.

She stepped into the stream of water, one hand pressed the wall, the other lightly pressed against her breast. She hung her head, the water striking the back of her neck and cascading down her back, as her mind wandered to a place it often avoided.

Baigh did not care much for appearing ladylike or regal, certainly had no eye for any fashion. She was proud of her body, her strength and endurance, but when it came to her appearance she always felt a bit lacking. Her main complaint being her rather small bust, though helpful during fights, it was more of a disadvantage when it came to everything else; at worse being mistaken for a male because of it. Her hand left her breast and glided across her naval and side, feeling several scars that her fur did not hide. She had earned many due to her years in the arena, each one a testament to her battles, each one another flaw on an already below par female. Hector could have a female if he wanted, he was intelligent, kind, and, Baigh had to admit, rather handsome. Why would he willing choose her over any other, especially after the today's events? She sighed and cracked her neck, pulling the lever again and leaving the room. "Oh well," she picked up a towel and decided to put it behind her, no need to chase after a lost cause. At least that pent up feeling was gone now.

However, as she dressed, a bittersweet feeling hung in her chest and stayed with her all the way home.

Chapter 5

The moon was resting high in the sky when Baigh finally walked through the door of her quiet home. Moonlight streamed in through the window as she crossed the den and entered the armor room, quietly placing her armor on the mannequin. She began walking to her room, but stopped as she passed Hector's room. The door was slightly ajar, allowing her to quietly slip inside. He was sleeping peacefully, his white chest gently rising and falling. She smirked, she had seen him many times at night wearing a long shirt and pants, but she never knew he slept without his shirt. As she watched him, a thought came to mind, her heart beating faster and her tail swaying in nervous apprehension. Why not get in with him? After her musing in the shower, sharing a bed with him sounded much better than sleeping alone. Her tail continued to sway from side to side, this was the perfect chance to find out how he felt. If he did have feelings for her, he would not mind. Right? She shook her head, her own uncharacteristic nervousness surprising her. She had stared down opponents twice her size and strength and others who were dead set on killing her, but forcing herself to slowly crawl into that bed filled her with an entirely new kind of fear.

She laid there facing Hector who was lying on his back, her heart beating fiercely in her chest. She swallowed and slowly moved herself closer, pressing her head against his chest. She could hear his heart beating softly and feel the warmth of his body as she pressed against him, an amazing sense satisfaction and comfort washing over her. To her surprise, she found herself purring, a low steady rumble coming from her chest. She smiled inwardly, she had not purred since she was a kitten. Suddenly, the warmth she felt immediately left and a cold terror ripped through her core as she felt a hand land on her shoulder and Hector's voice break the room's silence, "Baigh? What are you doing?"

She turned to look at him, thankful for the darkness that hid her shocked expression, but could only stutter, "He...Hector, I..."

There was little light in the bedroom, the only window being small and at the very top of the room, but he could still see her eyes shining dimly.

"I...wanted to apologize for attacking you."

Hector could sense some kind of distress in her voice, but chose not to address it now, "Please do not worry about that, I should not have tried to force my idea on you, this one or any of my others. You have been a fighter for years, while I have yet to set foot inside the arena for nothing more than to watch. Please forgive me, I only wished to help you. And...I am deeply sorry for cutting you. I let my anger get the better of me."

"I understand, I tend to do that quite often," she laughed weakly, "You are readily forgiven. And in your defense, I did you use the broad sword, and he did use the same technique you mentioned. You are to thank for my victory."

Hector smiled, though only barely visible by Baigh, "I'm glad I could be of assistance. I hope we could put this behind us and try to be better with one another."

"Agreed," Hector felt the bed shift as Baigh climbed out, "Well I just wanted to get that off my chest. Good night, Long Ears."

She was about to leave but she felt Hector grab her tail, "You do not have to leave if you do not want to. I....I rather liked it."

She felt her heart flutter, but showed nothing her face, now slightly illuminated by the beam coming from the window; she spoke in a curious but subdued tone, "Are you sure?"

"Yes...yes I am."

She looked away and quickly crawled into the bed, this time pulling herself closer to him and wrapping her arms around his back. Hector, a terrifying delight causing him to tense up as he felt her arms slide across her back. He regained his composure enough to slide his paws along her back, over the fabric of her wrap and resting on her lower back. He pulled her against him gently, enticing the purring to begin again.

"Good night, Long Ears."

"Good night, Baigh."

Chapter 6

Baigh awoke early in the morning, but remained in bed. Hector still slept beside her, his arm now lazily draped over her shoulder. She enjoyed this feeling, waking up next to another living, breathing being. His heart beat was soothing and she found his scent interesting and different, especially now that she was finally this close to him. It was usually so faint, masked by his clothes and the paper and ink he was often around. But now he was exposed to her, his natural scent much thicker than the frail plain scent of paper. She found everything about that moment relaxing but despite her mental protest, she quietly willed herself to slip from the bed. She took a cautionary looked at him. He had not woken, his eyes still closed and chest rising and falling rhythmically. She left the room and headed towards hers, now away from his bed, the reality of what she had just done hit her.

He must know her feelings now, and he did let her sleep the night. Maybe he felt the same way? She sighed and frowned sternly; she wanted to avoid this kind of thinking. It was one night, a night that he slept while you cuddled him like a kitten. His eye was still discolored last night, so why would he willing do that? He wanted to be better to her...maybe he pitied her. He felt obligated to do her kindness because of what he had just said; it would explain how he tensed up when she first touched him. Being so close to him must have unnerved him.

She sat on her bed and looked out the window. But he was a kind one. Isn't the type to pity someone, he cares more than that. He would have more likely done it because he would feel bad about turning her away, but while he was awake he seemed to enjoy it. She smiled and laughed weakly. But he is a male, a male who presumably never had the chance to sleep so close to a female.

Baigh stretched, coming to a final, if not bittersweet, decision. She walked over to her dresser, "Well, I'm glad that is settled," and took out her casual clothes to get dressed in.

It was around this time that Hector awoke. He groggily opened his eyes, yawning and reaching for his glasses on his nightstand. He turned over and raised himself on his elbow, his head in his paws, and thought about last night.

They settled their quarrel, this was good. But she slept in his bed. He slid a hand down to the spot where she slept. It was still warm. He recalled how it felt to hold her in his arms, the warmth of another body, her body, against his. The very thought sent a slight tingle down his spine. He remembered her scent last night. It was different from her usual smell. She often would have a strong odor, her occupation demanding much training and physical exertion resulting in a sweaty musk to follow her around. As strange as was to admit, he had grown used to it, though he still disliked it. But last night was different. It was, a word for it was hard to come to mind, but it was different. It was...it was feminine. It was not as intense as her musk, and certainly not as unpleasant. He had to make a physical effort to not press his nose into her fur to take in more of her scent.

As he crawled out of bed, Hector concluded in his mind that he loved last night. But as he chose his clothes from his closet, he sighed, a bittersweet grin across his face. His almost laughable history with courting females discouraged a repeat of last night. However that brought quite the bothersome question to mind, why did she do it? He knew that her excuse about wanting to apologize was most likely not true, but he could not think of another viable reason. Something must be quite wrong if she is acting this out character. Did something happen when she left earlier?

He fixed his glasses on his face and picked up his scroll and quill, quickly scribbling something new on his schedule, "I will ask her later today."

He stepped out of his room and headed towards the kitchen, marking off the first item on his list. He set them aside and lit the cooking fire, pulling out a skillet from the drawer and placing it on the rack to heat up. The meat he stored in the freezing cabinet had a light covering of frost, pleasant proof that the contraption he commissioned to be built was in working order. He took it out and placed it on the skillet, there was a loud sizzling as the meat skidded around the pan. He was removing a few spices when he heard Baigh behind him, "Good morning, Long Ears."

Hector looked back as he tapped one of the spice bottles into the pan, "Hello Baigh, good morning to you as well. I trust you slept well," he tried to hide a small smile as he spoke.

She began to speak, but there was a pause, less than a moment, but it was there, and "I slept fine. What about you? Hope I did not upset your schedule," she smirked as he turned to look at her.

"I will have you know, my schedule is just fine. And I slept," Hector laughed somewhat uneasily, "Well I slept well."

They looked at each other for a moment, Baigh a steady gaze, her face in indifferent inquiry; Hector's eyes focused on Baigh, but as the staring match went on, his gaze drifted away, occasionally glancing back towards her face. Eventually, Baigh suddenly turned and left the kitchen, "Well when you finish, just bring my meal to my room."

Hector turned back to the cooking meat, a bit disturbed by the awkward moment that just occured. He wanted to ask her about why she slept in his bed, but he could just ask her when he brought her food. He smirked and laughed quietly; if she did not answer his question he could keep it hostage until she did.

Chapter 8

Baigh returned to her room and walked over to her dresser to look into the mirror, another addition that Hector insisted on being installed. She found it useful to adjust her armor properly from the front, but not for much anything else. She hardly used it for the personal grooming that the female who delivered it suggested. She could prepare her appearance just fine before receiving this thing, and certainly was not one to prim herself for long periods of time as other females were oft to do.

She ran her hand over her cheeks, smoothing over the fur, and then ran her paws down her sides. However, she did take some time to examine herself from time to time. Her training and active lifestyle had given her a rather tone figure, even if fate had left her with a less than feminine figure. She was running her hand down her side, her other hand resting on her hip, when a light cough drew her attention away. She quickly turned to see Hector, standing at her door entrance with a slight smirk and red tinted cheeks, "I hope I'm not interrupting something, but your breakfast is ready."

She glared at him, but could not help but let a smile come across her muzzle as she approached him, "It is about time Long Ears."

"Well quality does take time."

Baigh took the tray of food and returned to her bed, "Whatever you say. So just how long were you watching me, huh Cotton Tail?"

She glanced back and saw his face had become even more flushed, as he cleared his throat and averted his gaze, "I was not watching you, I simply came in when you were looking in the mirror."

She put a piece of meat into her mouth and laughed, "Whatever you say."

Hector rolled his eyes and sat on the bed beside her as she ate, examining the grooves of the stone floor as Baigh ate quietly. He was somewhat distraught, his heart having skipped a beat when she brought up him watching her. Honestly, he was. When he saw her running her paws down her side, he completely forgot about keeping the tray. He could not help but gawk for a moment; she was a sight, even dressed as she was. Since their meeting months ago, he had found her to be an attractive female, even with her attitude; one would be foolish not to. And the confident nature she expressed made him believe she knew it. But then again, she never did seem to pay much mind to her appearance.

He shook his head, he was digressing, "Baigh, I wanted to ask you about last night."

She turned to him, chewing the last bit of her meal, and hummed in acknowledgement.

"Why did you stay?"

She swallowed, "I already told you; I wanted to apologize."

"I know," he tapped his paws on his knees, "But I don't believe you."

She frowned and glared, "And what does that mean?"

Hector sighed, steeling his determination, "I do not believe you. You did apologize, but then you slept in my bed...with me. Did something happen that made you want to not sleep alone?"

She cracked her neck and slid further back on the bed, "I told you I wanted to apologize. I did try to kill you. I figured I would just...be pleasant with you."

"Forgive me, but I doubt that."

"And why is that? Can't I be pleasant?"

"Oh no, of course you can, but that is not what I was referring to. I mean, I doubt that apologizing was what made you do that. You have never seemed the kind to be so affectionate, at least from my perspective. And last night you purred," He smiled hesitantly, "Until last night, I did not think you could purr."

She scoffed and smirked, "Well I can. And I can be affectionate when I want to; I am still a female after all."

Hector chuckled a bit more confidently, "There is certainly no question of that."

Baigh smiled inwardly, "So then what is the problem?"

"I was just confused as to what would spur...well you to crawl into my bed as a way of apologizing."

She stretched her arms behind her and leaned backwards, "And just what is wrong with that? Is there something wrong with me?"

"Oh nothing, I did not mean offense. What I meant was for someone who has not brought a male home, at least in the time I have been here, and has turned away suitors more eligible than myself, and is of such high standing in society, why would you pick me to express such affection?"

She laughed and gave him a questioning gaze, "And what is so wrong with you?"

He smiled, but it slowly faded, "I am not exactly the best choice."

"And why not?"

"You are changing the subject, this is about you."

She laughed, "Well you are drawing out confessions from me, why should I be the only one?"

He sighed, "Fine, if that is what it takes," he laughed, "we'll do this the childish way."

She laughed and smirked deviously, "Oh that is just fine with me. Now again, what is so wrong with you?"

Hector rolled his eyes and smiled weakly, "We both know I am a particularly weak rabbit, I choose not to fool myself, especially in comparison with the competitors of the arena. I have never been one to impress females with my physique. And I may be intelligent, but that is not always an attractive point."

Baigh kept an interested smirk the entire time, and scoffed lightly as he finished, "And you are supposed to be intelligent?" she flicked one of his ears causing him to recoil a bit and give her dirty look, "Muscles and brains are not the only things that make a male attractive, though they do help. Power, both politically and economically, also play a factor, though that is usually for more shallow females looking out for their own wellbeing. We are all different, liking different things about males, but you have an all-around good quality females tend to prefer."

"Really, because I have no clue about it. What is it?"

She shifted, sliding further onto the bed and crossing her legs, "You are sincere and kind. You care about others, not just for your own sake, but because you genuinely want to help them. You aren't like the other males who think they deserve a female or think that by catering to a female's whims they are entitled to her affection," she ran a finger across the scar on her cheek and laughed, "Certainly didn't cater to mine. Your kindness is not an act, it's you," she put a paw on his shoulder, "That is a hard trait to find in a male. Hell, it's a hard trait to find in anyone. So you should be a little more confident in yourself."

Hector was looking at her the whole time she spoke, only occasionally glancing away to think on what she was saying. When her paw touched his shoulder, he had to look down; the smile on his face was beginning to become quite difficult to hide, his modesty betraying him once again. He felt another rather hard flick to his ear, immediately bringing his attention to Baigh's amused face, "You listening to me, Long Ears?"

He nodded slowly, "Yeah...I'm listening. Well now it's your turn," straightening his back momentarily and smirking at her.

She scoffed and laughed, uncrossing her legs and sitting on the edge of the bed, "And you want to know why I came in your room last night?"

"Yes."

She smiled and leaned towards Hector, causing him to lean away slightly. She continued, taking hold of his wrist, and spoke in an uncharacteristically soft manner, "Because maybe I like kind males."

She leaned back slightly, "You are thoughtful and caring, and I only realized it after my fight today. Even with how much you frustrate and get on my nerves, I can't seem to hold a grudge against you without feeling bad myself."

Baigh stifled a laugh. The arm she was holding was shaking, and his eyes had become slightly larger. His mouth was slightly agape, and his cheeks were tinted red before, but now were they burned a deep red.

"When I came home and saw you sleeping, it looked more inviting than my room so I took the chance. I assumed you would be kind enough to let me sleep there, even if you didn't want to."

"Why...why would I not want to let you?"

She let go of him and returned to leaning backwards, supporting herself on her paws behind her and looking at the wall, "Like you said, I don't bring males around all the time. There's a reason for that. I will admit, I'm not the most attractive female in the city and I do not act as feminine as I could, but that is by my choice to act that way and I can't help what nature gifted me with. The scars from the arena don't help either. My title brings males seeking fame by association, or to add another conquest to their record. Though, it seems that my title is the only thing that attracts males, and you, if what I've seen is correct, are not impressed by my title."

Hector's nervousness had calmed, and was now sitting up, his full attention to her. He looked away briefly then back to her with a serious expression, "I think you have earned your title and I am quite impressed by that, but I do not use your title as a value of your character. I leave that to your actions and words. And you are lovely in your own way."

She laughed lightly, "Well, you would be one of the few who do judge me beyond my arena reputation. And thank you, but I've heard that before."

Hector stared at her a moment, scanning her face silently. He took a deep breath and turned towards her, "It is hard to explain just why you are beautiful and in your own right. Perhaps it is your fur? Despite what you may say, it is something beautiful. At times, appearing as light and soft as the petal of a spring blossom, but during the heat of battle or training, it gleams, as if fire itself had come to life. Or by chance it is your body? So strong and steadfast, withstanding attack after attack, you bring awe to those who see you, each scar a testament to your achievements. What an honor it must be to feel those scars, to lay a paw upon thy figure, truly an opportunity to grasp hold of ethereal fire and feel its glory. However, I believe it is your mind that is so enchanting. So much fiery passion burns in those eyes, and yet, hidden away, a soothing calmness exists as well. I find it all, you, so beautiful. So yes, it is difficult to find the source of your beauty, though I am content with pondering."

There was a long moment of silence. Baigh thanked the heavens for her orange coat, lest Hector be visually alerted to the burning in her cheeks. She was never easily stunned, but hearing this come from Hector was shocking to say the least. She leaned forward, her arms at her sides and hers paws gently clenching the sheet.

Hector was blushing much worse, his cheeks tinted cherry red, "I...After you left earlier, I decided to read to calm my mind, and I came across a few poetry books. They were honestly rather awful, but I never did have an eye for poetry. But it did spur me to do some myself, and because of our fight before, I decided it should be about you. I know my work is not much better, but what do you think?"

Baigh was looking towards her lap; she could not bring herself to look at Hector in the face. No one had ever spoken to her like this, and she never felt comfortable about her more romantic feelings. She finally looked up slowly, and stared at him with a confused and almost lost expression.

Hector however, was growing more and more uncomfortable with her strange expression and almost eerie silence. He laughed awkwardly and cleared his throat, "Well," and began to rise from the bed.

Baigh brought her hand up and quickly grabbed his wrist, her eyes darting around slightly to different points on his face. She wanted to say something, but it was hard, harder than she could believe. Her window of opportunity was slowly slipping away, and she could not think of anything to say to him. She started holding him tighter, desperate to keep him here while she thought.

Hector's heart was beginning to beat faster and faster as terror rose in his chest. Her unblinking stare and tightening grip only proved to fill him with more fear. He tried to pull away, but the more he struggled, the more she pulled. She began taking more and more of his arm into her grasp. Paw over paw, she pulled more of his arm towards her. All the while he was saying her name with increasing alarm.

Nothing, she could think of nothing. She hated being under pressure like this! She was actually starting to panic, a pain in her head slowly increasing in intensity. He was looking worried, but now he seemed terrified. Her chance was slipping. He was pulling away, she had to hold tighter. She reached farther, hoping to relax him but creating the exact opposite reaction. She kept grabbing, nothing else came to her. When she grabbed just above his elbow, he yelled her name. That was it, she broke down and panicked. With a fierce tug, she pulled him into her embrace, wrapping her arms around his head and neck, tucking his head under her chin.

"Oh gods, Baigh!"

Suddenly, Hector was pulled against her chest, his cheek hitting her collar bone. She slowly stroked his head and gently nuzzled his ear. Most of his panic subsided, but his discomfort was still at a high level, "Baigh...Baigh can you tell me what is wrong?"

She did not respond, instead continuing to nuzzle his head gently. Hector was about to ask again, but was stopped by a low rumbling coming from her chest.

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