*I don't own Jane and the dragon or is characters

This is one that I've had in my docs for a while, so I thought I should post it. It's a been a while, but I'm not gone. I've just been trying my hand at other types of writing styles and fics across Fandoms. Anyway, I hope you like it. Oh, and yes this is for the story game, Arc2.

Side by side, they trained as was the norm. The mid morning sun was beating above their heads, drops of sweat running down their cheeks. With her hair tied back in a single braid, the wild beat of a determined heart kept her focused on the target; today she would surely beat him. Gunther for his part, was overconfident in drawing his arrows, and right before he would let go, the glare of the sun made him miss the mark. Frustrated, he would try again and again, though he would miss if for one moment he glanced right beside him.

"What is the matter Gunther," came her teasing. "fighting against the wind? Perhaps your breath drew the arrow from its course."

The familiarity of these words made him pause, and brought back memories of his failed attempts to woo her; under moonlight, all those years ago, when Gunther had formed the words he had cared to say, back when neither of them had been ready for such strong feelings or promises; finding them an impediment. And while at the moment they might have been sweethearts, the lifelong competitive spirit which hummed about them was still as strong as ever. With a smirk, he leaned his bow against the barrel, and approached her, with intentions to make a better, wittier comeback, but then he studied her, taking in her current state. Cheeks flushed from their vigorous activity, bright eyes which dared him to fight back, and lips which held promise of sweet introduction into a dizzying world; he could not find it in himself to stay upset for long.

"Noble Jane, I was simply distracted by the incorrigible sun. So perhaps you should tell it to stop."

"Beef brain." she huffed.

Seeing how her arrows were off center, he smirked. "Really Jane? You are doing it all wrong."

"Then, if you are truly the better marksman," she challenged. "show me where I am in need of assistance."

Rolling his eyes, Gunther assisted by correcting her posture and form, though all the while conscious of the scent of her soap, of the hints of dragon smoke, and something so her; which drove him mad with separate emotions he dare not acknowledge. Why, he was almost persuaded to brush a few strands of hair away, or to forget their activity and just hold her close, but it was not the time for such things, and returning to his place, he picked up his bow. "Still, there is no doubt I will best you yet. So, you better watch out frog rider, for the better knight will surely hit their mark."

And her brief surprise dissolved, and once again with the usual sweet competitive nature which will perhaps follow them for the rest of their lives, she smiled at him; knowing how difficult it must be for him to accept the transition in their relationship. And with her natural way, she saw his facade crumble until he was simply Gunther; the man of her affections, and the biscuit weevil, who supported her as a fellow knight should.