Riven was not one to back down from a challenge, but after thirty minutes of sparring against Vaelorian, he was starting to think maybe the universe had something against him. Some sick personal vendetta that can only be resolved when Riven is six feet under.
Riven wiped the sweat off his brow, breathing heavily, and threw a glance at his opponent.
"Nope! This is not fucking working!"
Riven exclaimed throwing his hands up in frustration, eyes narrowing as he tried to land a punch, only to watch Vaelorian vanish into thin air—again. Riven's stomach twisted in utter despair. They'd been at this for half an hour now, and not once had he come close to landing a hit, let alone knocking Vaelorian off his feet.
"Knocking you off your feet isn't exactly my first lesson, is it?" Riven asked, voice gritty, as he wiped his face.
His muscles burned, his limbs protesting with every move. He could feel the frustrations bubbling up—this wasn't supposed to be so damn hard.
Vaelorian tilted his head, a slight smirk playing on his lips.
"What are you talking about?"
Riven glared at him, fists clenched. He gestured wildly.
"I don't know if it's because you've been kicking my ass for the past thirty minutes but everything suddenly makes sense, because every time I charge at you, you just vanish. And the next thing I know, I'm on the floor."
Vaelorian blinked, unbothered. "What does that have to do with anything? You're on the floor because you don't know how to fight."
Riven groaned, tossing another punch that missed by a mile.
"No, that's not it! I've done my fair share of fighting. I'm on the floor because I don't understand how you're just...vanishing right in front of my eyes."
"Where are you going with this, Riven?" Vaelorian asked, crossing his arms.
Riven took a deep breath, trying to steady himself.
"I'm saying this is happening because you clearly have an advantage over me. That advantage would be me not knowing your gift, which means I don't stand a chance against you. That's my real first lesson—figure out my opponent's gift before fighting them."
There was a beat of silence, then Vaelorian's smirk widened, almost impressed.
"Smart boy. Usually, it takes some people weeks to figure that out."
Riven rolled his eyes. "You could've just told me that instead of kicking my ass!"
"Then it wouldn't be a lesson. Besides, there's no fun in that," Vaelorian said, shrugging casually.
Riven shot him a glare but couldn't help the grin tugging at his lips. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
Vaelorian's smirk deepened as he shrugged again. "Maybe a little."
"Asshole!" Riven muttered under his breath, but the words lost their sting as he caught Vaelorian's eyes again, he was grinning.
Of course, he heard Vaelorian's reply clearly, even if he hadn't spoken aloud.
"I heard that!"
Riven rolled his eyes, feeling a familiar mix of annoyance and amusement. That smirk on Vaelorian's face was almost as irritating as the fighting itself.
"Your hands!" Vaelorian suddenly said, stepping closer.
What the fuck? Riven blinked. "Huh?"
"Give me your hands," Vaelorian repeated, extending his palms.
Riven hesitated, instinctively wanting to crack some joke about why he was asking for his hands, but he decided it wasn't the time. Instead, he simply extended his own.
"Umm...why are we holding hands again?" Riven asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Because I'm healing you," Vaelorian said plainly, as if that explained everything.
And just like that, the pain and soreness from all their sparring vanished. Riven blinked, stunned.
No way. That was so fucking cool.
"Wait a minute," Riven said, eyes wide. "Did you kick my ass without hesitation because you knew you could heal me?"
Vaelorian's smile was slow but certain. "No, I wouldn't do something like that."
Riven's jaw dropped slightly. "Oh my gosh! You totally did! The way you slammed me on the floor was so uncalled for, dude!" His voice was half grievance, half awe.
Vaelorian chuckled softly. "I admit I was a little rough, but I needed to gauge your strength. People whose gifts are strength tend to be, well… pretty damn strong."
Riven looked down at himself. This pale, scrawny body wasn't exactly the picture of physical strength. He'd always thought of himself as tough enough, but now, in this body he looks like a joke trying to fight. Maybe, that's how Vaelorian saw him too.
"So, umm… are you going to tell me what your gift is, or is that a secret I'm not supposed to know?" Riven asked, clearing his throat to hide the embarrassment in his voice.
Vaelorian's expression softened just a little.
"My gifts are somewhat complicated, but I don't mind telling you. It's only fair—considering I know your secret, after all." he said before plopping beside Riven on the floor.
Riven's curiosity piqued.
He said Gifts! Does that mean he's like me? Riven thought.
"My mother's gift is telepathy. So, naturally, I came into the world with the same gift," Vaelorian explained, his tone calm but reflective. "But a lot of strange things happened around me as a kid."
Riven leaned in a little. "What kind of strange things?"
Vaelorian's eyes gleamed with memories. "All kinds of strange things, subtle for the most part. My iron-like grip when nursing as an infant. The nanny's broken fingers when I held on too tight as a toddler. How I could heal easily, run faster than most kids. Like I said, a lot of strange things."
Riven's brow furrowed. "And as you got older?"
Vaelorian's face grew serious. "People were afraid of me. Even as a kid, I knew I was different. The adults? They suspected, but they didn't have a way of proving it."
"So what happened?" Riven pressed, eager.
Vaelorian's voice was steady. "There were questions, suspicions—more like curiosity. But by the time they started to be sure of anything, I'd already stopped giving them reasons to be too curious. I'd throw them a bone sometimes, but I still kept it safe."
"How did you do that?" Riven asked, fascinated.
"It's simple, really," Vaelorian said with a shrug. "My father became the leader of this empire at fifteen, after leading a war against the previous one and forming the great houses with his strength and wisdom. Naturally, a child of his would be just as impressive."
Riven nodded, trying to keep up. "And that was enough to clear their suspicions?"
"More or less, but I got better at hiding it over time." Vaelorian confirmed.
"Oh." Riven muttered under his breath.
"Yeah! You see, I wasn't born with my mother's gift like they thought..." Vaelorian paused glancing at Riven briefly. "Instead, I took it from her—the correct term would be mimicking. The same way I mimicked my father's strength and the nanny's gifts."
"Oh wow! So, your gift..."
"Yeah, I can use anyone's gift by simply touching them." Vaelorian concluded.
Riven couldn't contain his excitement. "That's fucking awesome! Sorry—sorry!" He caught himself, cheeks flushing. "That came out this time because I was excited, but seriously, your gift is incredible."
Vaelorian chuckled. "I didn't think I'd ever hear you say anything nice about me."
"Well, don't get used to it," Riven teased, trying to sound annoyed, but the grin betrayed him.
Vaelorian stood up from the ground, dusting himself off with a serious look.
"Come on. We've rested enough. Time to see how much your knowledge of my gift has improved your fighting."
Riven looked at him, a flicker of curiosity. "So, are there others like you? Other gift-mimics?"
Vaelorian's smirk returned. "Probably. But, not all gifts are the same, though. Some might be stronger, some more subtle. But I doubt we're done learning about the different kinds of gifts, yet. I mean, you have two gifts while I can use other people's gifts by touching them."
Riven then grinned mischievously. "Tell me how you found out I have a second gift."
Vaelorian's eyes sparkled with amusement.
"Not telling," he said simply.
Riven cursed inwardly, already plotting how to get that secret out of him.
And in that moment, amidst the tension and teasing, Riven couldn't help feeling a little more relaxed. Maybe this was exactly what he needed to feel at home, some good old ass whooping—something he was very familiar with.