Media is: Nerissa in her armour.

In my dream, there's a knock on the door. One, two-- then at least seven more, all in a row.

'Princess!' I hear a roar. An angry, sarcastic roar. 'I'm not your bloody maid! Out of bed, now!' 

I groan as I jerk awake. Not a dream-- I can hear the heavy breathing of the man outside. The tone is low and rich, familiar-- not Hadrian, but someone I'd met. I struggle to think who, whilst simultaneously rolling over in my warm, comforting pillows.

After my rant at Hadrian last night-- or, as the darkness outside my room suggests, a mere few hours ago-- sleep remained elusive. Until, after what seemed like an eternity, I managed to drop off.

Now the hammering starts up again, and my temper, already fraying from lack of sleep and hunger-- flares. I shove off the warm quilt, slapping my feet onto the floor and stomping to the door. I unhatch the lock and throw it open, scowling angrily straight into Char's face.

'It's time to train,' he says, but his words don't soothe me. I only become more irritated, letting out a low scream in frustration.

He blinks at my ferocity. 'Hey, you asked me to train you. I'm here to wake you up as a nice gesture, but I'm not doing it every day. And hell, I'm not going to train you if you keep looking as though you might skewer me.'

Every inch of me barks to snap and fight back, but I know his words make sense. It's not Char's fault I'm tired and grouchy and hungry, after all. Biting down hard on my lip, I nod and mutter an apology.

'Accepted,' Char says promptly, folding his arms. 'Now, get dressed. I had the maids leave some suitable clothes for you in your wardrobe. Put them on and meet me on the fields outside.'

He stares hard at me as I stand there, hesitating. As my eyes shutter slowly, wanting to go back to bed now my exhaustion has outweighed my anger.

But Char knows. 

As he shuts the door, I hear him say, 'Ten minutes. Maximum.'

Grimacing, I hobble to the wardrobe. I avoid looking at the bed, knowing the temptation to slip back inside will overpower any will I might have. So instead I pull open my wardrobe and enjoy the new additions to my inventory.

For all that he'd woken me up, Char redeemed himself slightly by getting me better clothing. 

Thick, protective woollen leggings and a simple blouse I choose for my base layers, all in a midnight blue. Over these I place a light metal breastplate, plain in design except for a slight insignia; a tree, with roots planted in a barren landscape, grows into a land above and there holds its branches and leaves. Along my limbs I strap leather greaves and gauntlets. 

I fear at least ten minutes have passed whilst I struggled into my uniform. Armour isn't something I've ever had the opportunity to wear, and I don't understand what half of the contents of the wardrobe are for. Strapping on particularly nasty knee-high boots for stomping, I head out of my bedroom.

My armor squeaks as I move. I hate how heavy and clunky I sound, and I wonder if that's why they've given me this-- so I can't remove Hadrian's balls in his sleep.

Just the thought of his name sends an intense reaction through me. Embarassment-- why had I been so truthful last night? And desire, mixed with anger and then rejection. I hadn't stayed awake out of choice, but my body and heart couldn't help but pray and hope to hear the sound of footsteps coming to my room.

I tread as lightly as I can down the spiral staircase.

When I reach the bottom, I ask some servants as I pass for directions. They don't even need telling; as soon as they see my armour, they point me outside into the courtyard.

I exit through the main front doors and turn left, following the path beyond the stables. A familiar black lump is  curled up by the stable doors, snoring with each head. 

Cerberus! My heart squeezes. I hadn't seen the three headed dog since my last excursion, and although Hadrian had reassured me that she was fine, it's a relief to see her in animal.

One of her heads sniffs the air as I pass by, opening an eye. She whines for me to scratch her ears, and as soon as I've scratched one, the next head has awoken. Soon I'm scratching her heads in rounds, whilst she purrs like a large cat.

Finally, cringing at how late I am, I kneel to the dog and explain the situation.

'So you see, I have to get to the training grounds,' I sigh. Cerberus looks at me, rolls an eye, and yawns.

'Nice to see you too,' I huff, but then the dog stretches and stands. Cerberus is huge-- at least three times my size, and with three massive hulking hound heads, identical and with razor sharp teeth. The dark hound fixes one pair of eyes on me whilst the remaining two pairs flick ahead as if to say, come on then.

Cerberus takes my rush seriously. She sets off at a leisurely lope, which for me is not far off a flat out sprint. The path fades beyond the stables and we move through the rocky crags of the Underworld in the opposite direction to the city.

After several more minutes, the guards' barracks and then the training grounds appear.

They're made of stone and wood, making the area look like a jostling camp than a permanent fixture. Tents of all colours dot the lines, whilst guard towers patrol, archers at the ready. The line doesn't end there, either-- I push out my awareness as Hadrian taught me to, emptying my mind and allowing the buzzing to fill. More soliders lined the perimetres, defending the city from any unwanted visitors. 

As I approach the buildings and the bustle of guards in the same uniforms as me-- albeit they all wear the pieces of armour I couldn't fathom-- glances flash in our direction. The three-headed dog is infamous, and the two of us together must look like wraiths. 

One of the young soldiers greets me.

'Nerissa, miss?' he says. His accent is thick. 'Char said to take you to him when you got here.'

I grin. 'Is that what he really said or was it a bit more colourful?'

The guard blushes. 'Colourful,' he mumbles.

But I follow him all the same. We weave through the busy barracks, filled with men and women either preparing for duty or relaxing on their day off. The guard leading me is small, and he looks no older than Nate. When I ask his name, he tells me it's Li, and that's all I get before we arrive.

The training camp is a large open field with a few sparring rings and spaces to drill and train. I watch with fascination; things weren't too dissimilar to the fighting rings I'd forced my way into back home. There, I had trained with wooden dummies too-- until I the real thing.

A group of archers are loosing arrows towards targets, some stationary, some moving. Their moves are graceful and lithe, and the more advanced look like fluid dancers, leasing deadly marks to their dummy targets. Not too far from them, a group learn sparring drills, whilst another practice knife combat. 

Before I can sneak into the crowd and learn, a sinister chuckle catches my ears. 

'Princess, you turned up!' Char strides towards me, clapping my back until I cough. 'Didn't know if you'd grace us with your presence.'

I glare at him, and the smile he gives me is sweet. 

'Want to join me for a spar? I've heard you know a few tricks.'

The group of students behind watch and wait. My distrust flares; they don't seem to be in the middle of a lesson.

Unless I'm the lesson, I think. From Char's raised eyebrows, I'm almost confident that I am.

'I'll have a go,' I say. 

'Great,' Char says, and he thanks Li for bringing me. The small boy dashes off to the archer group, where a few of the older students greet him with what looks like relief. If that is there looks from just getting a job off Char...

I swallow. I won't go down without a fight.

Not with at least thirty bloodthirsty students watching.

Char steps into the ring. 'Come on, Princess.'

'Unarmed?' I check, making sure my equipment was on. Char nods, taking off his extra armour so that his matches mine in all but colour. Whereas mine is blue, Char's is the black and red stripe of a high rank.

I'm about to find out how high.

I take my place opposite and take my stance; left foot forward, hands up. 

'Ready?' Char asks. 

'Yes!'

He moves before I've stopped speaking.

Wham. His fist collides with my shoulder as I twist away, just in time. I bark in pain, but I fall back, recovering my stance and my wits. 

So he's fast. Be faster.

Char aims a hook towards my face. I step sideways, eying up the distance between the two of us and taking another calming step back. Char's taller-- his reach further. I would have to be quick or else I'd never close the distance.

His leg sweeps my feet out from underneath me, and I land hard on my arse. Letting out a winded huff, I roll to the side, rising into a crouch on the far side of the ring. The faces follow me, watching my move, as my stance moves to mirror Char's as he comes in for another blow.

This time, I sense his fist by the slight change in the air. As his right hand shoots out towards my nose, I duck beneath it, shimmying close enough to slam my knee into his stomach. Char bends double, and then my elbow finds his face.

Blood spurts from his nose, and I hesitate. 

'Wrong move,' I hear him growl, and then he's tripped me up again. This time, though, all I can see is grey sky and the hard earth slamming against my spine. As I cough and try to move, Char sits on my chest and demonstrates to his students how to win the match in style.

Whilst he lectures them on our differences in technique, I glance around-- only to find Hadrian watching, a mere few feet away. He must have seen my defeat, but he looks distant, his eyes focused on the other sparring rings.

I follow his gaze and find a familiarly irritating redhead fighting with swords against a man twice her size, the steel blades flashing in the sun. Tisi stands a few metres away, watching every move with a keen eye, whilst Alec juggles three knives as she waits. 

Hadrian's gaze, thankfully, moves on, and he seems to watch each match with equal intensity. Char calls me over and I move with forced poise in case Hadrian decided to watch. 

'Not bad there, Princess,' Char admits, and I see that his students have dispersed, working in pairs or threes. The Captain wipes his forehead on the back of his arm, breathing heavily. 'Now, do I partner you with somebody new or shall I call your slacker of a fiance over?'

'Slacker?'

'First time he's turned up to training in weeks. He's had a certain distraction with a pretty face and sarcastic comments that he's not used to dealing with.'

I stick out my tongue at him. 'You don't do too badly yourself; I saw you arguing with him over dinner last night.'

Char shrugs. 'Aye...somebody needs to act normal around him. You and I, we bring him down a little off the pedestal everyone else places him on.'

My laughter catches Hadrian's eye. I see him turn, a line creasing between his eyebrows.

I avoid his eyes. I want to marry you. Why had I said that? 

But why did the words ring true?

'Do you know anything about necromancer powers?' I blurt out, and Char gives me a look as though I'm mad. Then, the Captain of the Ferryman strokes his beard, contemplating.

'Not much,' he replies, 'I'm no necromancer. Only Hadrian is...and you, now. Others have been dying off since Hecate made the Underworld her goal. She's the third necromancer, of course.'

'I was more wondering about...' I hoped Hadrian couldn't hear. 'Do you change when under necromancer powers?'

Understanding seems to light Char's eyes. 'Did Hadrian turn strange? He does that when he uses up a lot of his power...he told me once that it's a bit like alcohol, using your necromancer powers: the more you use, the less inhibitions you have. It strips away parts of you, allowing a more base nature through.'

A truthful one, maybe?

I remember "Dark Hadrian" all too well, particularly his lips. Maybe my own version of dark is lurking for the moment I use up a little too much.

Whilst I'd been engrossed contemplating, a figure had approached us. Megara has put down her swords and approaches Char and me with hip-swaying confidence. Her uniform is black velvet and leather, making her look like a noble lady in a portrait on a battlefield. A long, red braid only adds to the image, alongside a smirk of confidence that I would gladly entitle the painting, "Prick". 

Her words to Char are sickly sweet and several octaves too false-- but even so, I relish them.

'Might I spar against the new bride?' 

At last, I think. 

An excuse to do what I've been waiting for these last three weeks. 

---

A/N: Hellooooooooo,

Do you like Nerissa's training? Char is very charming isn't he.... ;)

How will the match between Meg and Ness go? Feel like there's going to be lots of blood shed...!

Also a big thank you to everyone who went to read Little Saint Bride over on Inkitt. I officially have 100 readers! However, if you are one of those readers...PLEASE CARRY ON READING! They are judging by how much you're progressing and enjoying the book :)

As a thank you, a couple of people have mentioned a chapter in Hadrian's POV (which would be posted on Little Saint Bride). Which chapter would you most like to see? Please pick from one of the chapters of LSB and not GSQ!

Please comment below if you'd like a Hadrian POV chapter and if you have a preference of which one :)

lots of love

Larissa 

xxxxx