"It's okay, Feli; you'll get used to it. Just relax your shoulders!" Eliza rested her hands on the Italian's shoulders, feeling small vibrations as he shook. The sword felt heavy in his hands for a split second, readjusting his grip and biting his nether lip to cease any shaking; finding that instantly the sword became a breeze to support. A breathy sigh lingered in front of his cracked lips, his eyes slowly drifting to meet Eliza's, who had picked up her long sword. The hilt was warn and ripped with brown leather, naked metal peeking through tattered parts. The sword itself was immaculate, glimmers of sunlight catching on the slither of connection, travelling it's way to the top with let go with a small flash of light. No stains on the blade were established, an ebony outline lining the perimeter. Feliciano found himself completely immersed in the perfection of it, gazing over at his own. The dimmed light only allowed minimum visibility, however the sword could be described as a Rapier. It felt like practically nothing was in his hands, though Eliza was concerned to give him anything stronger or heavier as she felt it would be too much stress on his muscles. As Feliciano knew nothing of sword fighting so he didn't argue, though to be completely honest this blade felt as if it could slip out his hands at any moment. Though that was highly unlikely due to the unnecessarily complicated design of the grip, he didn't quite understand it yet he didn't argue due to his ignorance on the subject. It was an icy blue blade, a stunning gradient nearing the tip that faded into dark lapis shade. It was honestly quite remarkable, discovering that it's main blade tinted into a bright white when caught in the glimmers of sun. It was slender and slim, much like himself and the appearance of both hilts shared their similarities. They were both warn with age, but fitted themselves cosy in their fists. The two teenagers braced themselves, a cocky posture from the Hungarian.

An audible gulp could be heard from Feliciano.

.

Quick and silent footsteps echoed the isolated halls of the immense castle, the panting of two warriors louder than their own swiftness. A moderately tall Italian adult with dark and bristle hair flew forward at an incredible speed, a spindly sword dragging behind him clenched in his hand. Not far behind was a young female, a Hungarian swordsman with locks of bouncy hair drifting in the speed she drove at; lagging a bit behind her smaller male counterpart. She also had grip on a sword, however it was monumental in size compared to the one she had vision on. The Italian spun on his heels, a noticeable flare on his sword when he lifted it up from the humid sunlight that passed through the windows. The taller one thrust forward, catching up to her partner and clutching both her rugged hands onto the grip of her blade, slashing it through the air and colliding with the Italian's in an unpleasant screech. The slim Italian's sword caught in the sun's ray, creating a long strip of blue shadow that danced as the two exchanged attacks, briefly parting to circle each other.

Elizabeta Héderváry, (Eliza for short) a twenty-year old from Hungary; a born warrior. She had grown up and taken care of this man nearing all her life, and he had grown to be quite the warrior too. He'd been skilled with a sword, so she first decided to tutor him when she found and identified his very fast reaction and prediction skills (This happened many a time when he dropped a pasta dish but managed to save it before it inevitably hit the floor). Feliciano Vargas, a young adult and a third of the trio of Italian Brothers. They were an icon, a hit with the ladies and most of all, their food was a honour and delight to taste. It was a surprise to many people – Especially Ludwig – to find that he had potential in the battling field, and it was nice for her to finally combat with someone. This small Italian was a great battle partner, not to mention he had a lot of bottled up anger that he could tug by the reins and channel into each battle; all the while making it more fun.

A small smirk tugged it's way at her lips, watching the fury intensify in the dilated pupils of the man's eyes. Their swords were locked, digging the blades further at each other; hoping to break off soon.

Usually, the castle wouldn't be the most ideal place to battle – Roderich (The owner of the way too big castle) had specifically stated that all of them must be held outside and in the proper training grounds. However, they held a silent agreement that as long as he didn't know, it couldn't hurt him. Unless the accidentally hit him with a blade. Plus, the fact that Feliciano had ignited this match had been too good to deny.

Drowned in the clashing was a soft piano tune, no doubt that the Austrian who despised these much 'unnecessary' battles was somewhat close to both of them. Though that went unregistered by them both, their swords soon slipping upward from each other, detaching with a loud grating sound. Eliza took the opportunity to run further up the hall, Feliciano not long behind and soon neck and neck with her; furious eyes connecting them both. The brawl continued, though much unfortunate for the Italian his blue work jacket had loosened around his waist, reaching down his fisted hands to tighten it. A mischievous grin found it's way to Eliza's face when she saw this, his averted attention giving her an advantage. She twisted to her side, galloping and swinging round her sword flying through the air after her. It's mighty blade finding it's way toward Feliciano, the coal brink pointing it's way to his neck. During that time she must've forgotten just how unpredictable Feliciano can be, especially in a situation as such. He ducked, watching the sword swipe past the situated area his head would've been. He hauled himself back up, clashing swords with her again and watched her face twist through expressions of determination and terror. She didn't expect this at all, she had planned to cease the fighting before it got too out of hand - though judging from the expression of the younger male that was not going to be the case. They circled again, throwing hits at each other with small grunts.

Many large oaken and dated doors were dotted through the hallway in an orderly fashion, the biggest being in the centre with a rather elder design carved though from the peak to the handles. They parted for a while and Eliza stood face back to the door, her brow furrowed as she looked at her partner,

"You just don't give up, do you?"

"I could say the same thing to you."

Eliza clenched her teeth while getting her breathing back in order. She removed her hands from her knees, standing up straight with a confident attitude. Feliciano noticed her change in manner and twisted to his side, lifting his sword up nearing his head with a low chuckle. Without warning he struck forward, stunning Eliza as her face bent into an expression of surprise as her whole body was sent back from the immense collision. Feliciano stood back as she watched her slam into the door and forcefully opening it, not soon after a wave of various piano keys had been halted as Roderich jolted and let out a loud yelp of utter shock. Once Eliza was on her feet she struck back and the two threw attacks at each other more violent than first expected, loud battle cries from the back of their throats overtook what should have been a soft piano melody. The two latched their swords once more and pushed each other back and fourth in small amounts, Eliza coming out on top and shoving Feliciano back into the Grand Piano, it's sheen surface being blocked by his body slamming into it. Another yelp was given off by Roderich, barking some incoherent command or threat which neither understood, nor did they pay attention. The Italian proceeded to roll backward off the metal frame and collided with the wooden bench beneath it, a groan from the floor was ceased quickly as he stood back up; sword still firmly gripped in hand. Eliza could tell from his eyes and appearance he was dizzy, and his breathing told no lie that he was tired. He backed up into the wall, hoping there was a chance for escape, but alas there wasn't. Eliza's face slowly turned into a face of predatory, the tip of her blade swiftly kissing the skin of his neck, it's smooth surface chilling Feliciano's spine and leaving him in a state of pure shock; unable to move a limb.

"Well?" She stood and waited for the two words to leave Feliciano's mouth, but they never did. She ground her teeth together,waiting. She was going to win, she knew that much.

"What have I told you two abou-" The Austrian who they so rudely interrupted was cut off once more by the loud clank of metal that pierced through the words. Elizabeta stood, and twisted her head back. She couldn't believe the events of what just happened, she thought he was in for. Apparently not.

Feliciano walked forward, picking up Eliza's blade he so quickly knocked from her vice grip by digging the tip of his blade in the hilt, twisting and thrusting it across the room. He examined the edge. It was frayed, silver metal shone through the paint job while a whimsical smirk was held on his mischievous face. He held the extensive sword in his spare hand, swinging both mighty swords round by their warn hilts as they now rested across his shoulder blades. Roderich seemed to be shocked by the presentation himself, knuckles white as he gripped onto the edge of his instrument. Feliciano's eyes took their normal form, though a slight hint of domination could be read. He held his chin high, licking his cracked lips subconsciously as he caught a glance of Eliza's awed, jade eyes – blinking to put together the pieces of what Feliciano had just achieved.

"Well?"

A bitter silence fell across the room, only the irregular breathing that kept Eliza stationary for the time being. Until the two words she wished to have heard - had been forced to be spoken by herself.

"I resign."

Reviews for this are appreciated, it's one of my first times going into detail with a sword fight. Thank you for reading! :3