Dickinson & More story
Jun. 14th, 2008 12:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrYay D'son \o/ Sammie, I saw Mark Yoh ^___^ Only briefly. Hoping to see the gang more tomorrow.
We went swimming in Allie's pool. Mostly dressed. Not in swimsuits ^_~
Wrote more Chamption while in airport. Finished the first scene. Not sure when I'll get a chance to write more. Mwahaha
<3
Champion
Normally Arabella loved to linger in her rose garden, admiring the colors and breathing in the delicate scents of her prized flowers.
This evening, however, she just wanted to start grabbing and shredding. Only the fact that destroying her roses was no substitute for wringing her father's neck.
"You look about how I feel, dearest."
Arabella turned around, scarlet skirts whipping about, her irritation easing a bit as she registered the sound of her best friend's voice. "Elise."
She looked like a thundercloud, the curly black hair coming loose of its pins, dressed in gray and dark blue, a scowl on her hard, pretty face. "Your stepfather?"
"Of course. Your father?"
"Naturally. He put his foot down today," Arabella said with a sigh, dropping down on the marble bench where Elise had sat. "I'm to pick a Champion for the Royal Tourney - and by Champion, he of course means husband. Or else." She grimaced in annoyance. "I asked if I had to marry the man if he lost, or only if he won. Father was not amused."
Elise gave an unladylike snort. "Why should you have to marry a man who embarrasses you by losing?"
"It does rather add insult to injury," Arabella replied. "I wish I could just select a Champion who I did not have to marry."
Elise scowled at a yellow rose. "I do not see why you must choose at all. Honestly, I'm not certain if it's better or worse I'm being shipped off to Convent rather than throw down the marriage aisle."
Arabella smiled. "We'll compare notes after a year or two."
"Have you picked out a lesser evil? To which did your father finally narrow it down?"
"Grimmar, Housely, or Walting," Arabella said sourly. "I suppose I should be flattered I get that much choice. Poor Tiffany and Lila did not."
Elise grimaced. "Those are your options? There is always poison."
Arabella tucked back a strand of dark blonde hair which had slipped free of the braid in which she had bound it that morning. "For me or them?"
"While it would be easier to poison yourself, dearest," Elise said, "I do not think you should have to die because they are asses."
"Hmm," Arabella said pensively. "As fat as Housely is, consummating the marriage will likely be enough exertion to kill him – assuming the Tourney does not, at that. Not a pleasant night for me, of course, but I can survive one awful night to be a free widow."
Elise dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. "He's healthier than he looks, for all he looks like a fat toad. Anyway, why do you think he makes all his whores ride on top?"
Arabella coughed into one deep scarlet sleeve. "Elise!" She smothered a laugh. "Where do you hear such things?"
"Servants, mostly. Soldiers who don't realize I'm in the next stall over, or just out of sight in the armory."
"That is my Elise, too informed for anyone's piece of mind."
Elise shrugged. "Grimmar?"
"He drinks heavily, as everyone knows. Heavily and frequently," Arabella replied. "Likely he will drown himself in wine before too many more years have passed. Shrewder than the others at politics, for all he's never sober. Housely is better in with the merchants and tradesmen. Walting has the best foreign relations. Of the three, Grimmar is the least likely to beat me."
"True enough," Elise said, making a face. Everyone knew Housely and Walting both believed, as did most men, that dogs and women required a heavy hand when it came to maintaining discipline. Elise pursed her lips in thoughts. "I suppose Grimmar could be helped along in drinking himself into the grave. Walting is not worth considering at all. Besides the beatings, he already has a daughter, and he is very likely to drag you out of the country. He has land and money aplenty, but fat good that does if you never enjoy the benefits of it."
Arabella sighed softly, looking at her slippers against the pale tiles that made up the garden walkways.
"So that leaves the corpulent toad or the drunk rat," Elise continued with a sigh of her own.
She did not bother to reply; there was no need. Arabella reached out and gently broke off one lush, pink rose, holding it to her face to smell it, stroke the soft petals against her cheek. She refused to think too hard about anything, because if she did she would give in to tears and now was not the time for a good cry. That would come later.
"He has arranged for me to leave for the Moonstone Convent after the Royal Tourney," Elise said softly into the silence.
"What?" Arabella exclaimed, dropping the rose in surprise. It landed in her lap, pink petals breaking off to scatter across the scarlet fabric, before the rose tumbled off to fall against the pale gray tiles. "Elise! No!" She did cry then, throwing her arms around her oldest and dearest friend, hugging her tight.
Elise in a convent was a bird in a cage – and the best way for her stepfather to get the money and land Elise's father had left to her. Her friend would wither and die in such a life. "Oh, Elise, no. I thought he would not go through with it; you have been fighting so hard. I do not understand. You are marriageable."
"Hardly," Elise said with a sad laugh. "I was ruined years ago, and not much of a blushing rose anyway."
You were kidnapped," Arabella hissed, angry as always at the abuse heaped upon Elise for something that had not been her fault.
"It's all the same," Elise replied, voice calm. "It littler matters to me, save that he wants to lock me up in that damnable convent."
Arabella drew back, wiping away tears. "Oh, Elise. Misery with you I could have borne. Misery alone, I may tip the poison into my own glass after all." She sighed softly, clearing away the last traces of her tears.
She reached out almost absently to touch the sword Elise wore. Given the hour, no doubt she had been on her way to practice in solitude while her stepfather was at dinner. "I wish you could be my Champion," Arabella said wistfully. "That would solve both our problems."
"You would still have to marry," Elise said. "I would still go to convent. Even pretending for a moment it would work – that I would be allowed to fight, that I could find a sponsor, that I could win, still they would make us do as we are told at the conclusion of the Tourney."
Arabella shook her head. "No, the victors of Tourney are threefold – the Champion takes a boon, the damsel takes a boon, and the sponsor gets obscene amounts of money. The boons may be whatever the Champion and damsel ask that is within the High King's power to give."
"If he feels like giving it," Elise said. "There are a few instances where he has refused to give the boon requested. I cannot see he would allow either one of us our freedom. You are too useful a Princess, and I am a woman with too much of her own money."
"Well, I cannot see why it's not worth trying."
"I can think of plenty," Elise said cynically, but a moment later she smiled faintly. "It is a nice thought, though, I grant you that."
Arabella fell silent for a moment, turning things over and over in her mind. "I guess the important thing is – would you want to be my Champion?"
"Yes," Elise said softly, reaching out and taking her hand, squeezing it firmly. "To free you, to free me, I would pay any price."
"No doubt it would be a thrill to swing a sword at certain heads as well," Arabella said with a snicker.
"A true lady never lets evil thoughts cloud her mind, but only of helping others," Elise said primly.
They shared a smile, hands still clasped.
"We should go read books," Arabella said at last, letting go to stand up and shake out her skirts, before holding her hand out again.
"Books?"
Arabella nodded. "Yes. Let us see what sort of precedent might have been set in past Tourneys that we might use to gain you entry. Then we'll work on sponsorship and permission. If we sneak through the chapel, we should be able to reach the library without interference."
Elise took her hand and together they left the rose garden, exchanging snickers as they snuck and slunk through the palace halls. Every now and then they ducked down a smaller highway, or hide in one of the many little nooks, to avoid a passing servant or harried looking official.
As they ducked down the back hall to the chapel, they softened their steps still further, gathering up their long skirts in anticipation. Arabella stuck her head in the chapel, taking a quick but thorough look around. When all seemed clear, she motioned with her fingers to Elise, who stepped up to stand beside her – then they ran, bolting across the chapel, dashing past the altar, bursting into excited, anxious giggles as they burst through the door opposite and barely avoided slamming into the wall outside.
Exchanging smiles as they calmed down, they shook out their skirts and slunk more sedately down the last few halls that brought them at last to the palace library.
"The law books are this way," Elise said softly, absently taking her hand as she led the way through the maze of shelves, tables, work rooms, statuary, and other ostentatious dictionary that composed the pride and joy of Arabella's father.
They both drew up short as they turned into the area sectioned off for a great portion of the law books – though not all of them, many were packed away to be pulled out upon request.
A man sat at the table. He was long and lanky, even seated, seemingly composed mostly of elbows and knees. His light brown hair was a messy, haphazard tangle of tight curls, and at some point he had taken off his spectacles and propped them unthinking in the mess, where they still lay precariously. Ink smudged one cheek, and there was more spotting the shoulder of his dark green tunic. A blue and yellow dragon was embroidered across the front of it, breathing red and orange flames that molded around the dragon in the shape of a shield.
He looked up, either having heard them or merely sensed a presence, blinked, then smiled. "Well, well," the man said. "If it is not the palace pixies, no doubt come to stir up still more mischief."
"If it is not the palace gremlin," Elise retorted, but with a rare, real smile.
The man laughed and closed the cumbersome book he had been reading. "What mischief do you seek to commit, my fair ladies? How may I serve you in that endeavor?"
"You should probably keep well away from us this time, Roderick," Arabella replied. "I think you have enough trouble in your life."
Roderick was the Duke of Ellesmoore, a title and lands notorious for never keeping one master for very long. The record belonged to Roderick's predecessor, a man who had died with any heirs just four years after taking the title. Everyone before him had faired no better.
In addition to that, Roderick cared nothing for fighting. He participated in no tourneys, did not practice with the other knights, had never been seen practicing by himself, and was most often found with his nose buried in a book. No one knew how he had become a knight, but it was known fact that the High King himself had bestowed Roderick's spurs.
He was mocked and jeered and ignored, by turns, but never really crossed. A man who came from the Holy City with spurs bestowed by the High King himself was not a man to cross, even if he was more than a little bit of a laughingstock when he was not in the room.
"Oh?" Roderick said. "Now, that does sound like fun. You mustn't leave me out. Does this have to do with the rumors flying about, that our fair Princess is to be married with the close of Tourney, and we are to lose our fair Lady Elise to the Moonstone?"
Arabella glared at him. "I only found out myself scarcely an hour ago, how do you already know?"
"I know everything, or near enough to it," Roderick said lazily, smiling his mysterious smile. Oh, it drove her crazy when he did that.
She balled her hand into a fist and shook it at him, at which he only laughed.
"So what are plotting?" he asked again, folding his arms behind his head and leaning back in his seat. "You must tell me, I command it."
"Brat," Elise grumbled, but Arabella knew she would give in. Roderick was one of the few men who treated Elise as though she were a lady the same as all the rest, as though there was no mark upon her good name. The way she deserved. It was one reason they called him friend.
The fact he had never expected anything inappropriate of them was another.
"We came to research the Royal Tourney," Elise said. "The laws, the history…" She hesitated. "Any unusual exceptions."
Roderick looked at them in silence, eyes doing dark and distant for a brief moment as he thought. Then he grinned. "A Lady Knight to Champion the Princess, and both remain free of husband and prayers? Is that the game we play?"
Arabella scowled. "You are just a show off, and we are not impressed."
Snickering, Roderick stood up and began to mess with his papers and books, frowning as he failed to find whatever he was seeking.
Elise and Arabella laughed. "In your hair," Elise said helpfully.
"Oh," Roderick said, and laughed sheepishly. He reached up and pulled out his spectacles, settling them on his nose. "Getting you into the Tourney may not be as hard as you think. The rules do not say you cannot."
"What do you mean?" Elise asked.
Arabella frowned, equally confused, but followed along as Roderick led them to a bookcase, and pulled down a book of moderate size. It was made of simply brown leather, with gold lettering. Flipping it open, he turned a few pages until he found what he wanted, then turned it so they could read.
"To qualify for participation in the Royal Tourney," he said, "the rules, revises five years ago, state that a participant must be native born, capable of paying all fees and ransoms, and a sworn knight or experienced in combat and fighting with the permission of a King."
Elise grimaced. "I am native born, and experienced in combat. I could pay my own fees, though it looks bad not to have a sponsor…but I lack the permission of a King. There is no way his Majesty will grant it, not when he likes my stepfather's money too much and they're both hoping to get their hands on mine soon…and I do not have time to travel to petition other Kings, and I cannot think they will grant it."
"You're also a woman," Arabella said. "That is our biggest problem."
Roderick grinned. "That's where you're wrong. Where does it say that being a man is required to participate?"
Arabella stared at him in surprise, then read over the rules again. "You're right."
"The beauty of assumption," Roderick said, snapping the book shut and shelving it. "When they wrote the rules, that a woman might want to compete never occurred to anyone." He winked. "They will change it after this Tourney, I would imagine, but for now they will have to let you participate."
"I still lack permission," Elise said.
Roderick waved the words aside with a hand motion. "You also need a sponsor, because it does look poorly to pay your own way. I will be your sponsor."
"What!" the women said together.
Elise shook her head. "Roderick, we did not even know you would be here – we cannot ask you to get embroiled with us."
"Oh, please," Roderick said. "This will give them something new to talk about. I have not done anything especially eccentric in at least two months. People keep asking if I am feeling well. The only real problem I see, is that many will assume we are lovers, and I am indulging you or some such."
"That is as nothing," Elise said with a bitter smile. "I have been nothing but disappointing for not sleeping with every man I see. They will believe you in better health, and that I am the harlot the way they always suspected. So long as you do not take offense that everyone says you are bedding me, I will weather the rumors well enough."
Roderick shrugged. "Most already think I fornicate with demons. A woman would be quite boring after that, I would think."
Arabella muffled a laugh with her long sleeve. "Such language before ladies!"
"Indeed."
"So now I only need to get the permission of a King," Elise said, chewing on her lower lip. "I see no way to surmount that obstacle."
Roderick smiled his mysterious smile. "Petition the High King. When you return to your room tonight, draft a letter to him, explaining everything. I do mean everything. He respects honesty, for he sees very little of it. Give the letter to me in the morning, and I will see it is delivered in time for you to be granted his permission to fight in the Royal Tourney."
They stared at him in shock.
Rumors abounded he knew the High King better than most, but Roderick had never confirmed it. This was the closest he had ever come.
At last, Elise simply nodded. "Thank you, Roderick."
"Oh, fah," Roderick said, dismissing her words. "This will be interesting. Do me proud, Lady Knight. I will be there to cheer you on." He took each of their hands, and kissed the knuckles softly, and with a last hint of his mysterious smile, returned to his books.
Realizing they had been dismissed, not quite certain why or how he was able to dismiss them from the library, Arabella took Elise's hand, and together they left, parting only when they must to go to their respective rooms, kissing one another's cheeks in farewell.
*~*~*
We went swimming in Allie's pool. Mostly dressed. Not in swimsuits ^_~
Wrote more Chamption while in airport. Finished the first scene. Not sure when I'll get a chance to write more. Mwahaha
<3
Champion
Normally Arabella loved to linger in her rose garden, admiring the colors and breathing in the delicate scents of her prized flowers.
This evening, however, she just wanted to start grabbing and shredding. Only the fact that destroying her roses was no substitute for wringing her father's neck.
"You look about how I feel, dearest."
Arabella turned around, scarlet skirts whipping about, her irritation easing a bit as she registered the sound of her best friend's voice. "Elise."
She looked like a thundercloud, the curly black hair coming loose of its pins, dressed in gray and dark blue, a scowl on her hard, pretty face. "Your stepfather?"
"Of course. Your father?"
"Naturally. He put his foot down today," Arabella said with a sigh, dropping down on the marble bench where Elise had sat. "I'm to pick a Champion for the Royal Tourney - and by Champion, he of course means husband. Or else." She grimaced in annoyance. "I asked if I had to marry the man if he lost, or only if he won. Father was not amused."
Elise gave an unladylike snort. "Why should you have to marry a man who embarrasses you by losing?"
"It does rather add insult to injury," Arabella replied. "I wish I could just select a Champion who I did not have to marry."
Elise scowled at a yellow rose. "I do not see why you must choose at all. Honestly, I'm not certain if it's better or worse I'm being shipped off to Convent rather than throw down the marriage aisle."
Arabella smiled. "We'll compare notes after a year or two."
"Have you picked out a lesser evil? To which did your father finally narrow it down?"
"Grimmar, Housely, or Walting," Arabella said sourly. "I suppose I should be flattered I get that much choice. Poor Tiffany and Lila did not."
Elise grimaced. "Those are your options? There is always poison."
Arabella tucked back a strand of dark blonde hair which had slipped free of the braid in which she had bound it that morning. "For me or them?"
"While it would be easier to poison yourself, dearest," Elise said, "I do not think you should have to die because they are asses."
"Hmm," Arabella said pensively. "As fat as Housely is, consummating the marriage will likely be enough exertion to kill him – assuming the Tourney does not, at that. Not a pleasant night for me, of course, but I can survive one awful night to be a free widow."
Elise dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand. "He's healthier than he looks, for all he looks like a fat toad. Anyway, why do you think he makes all his whores ride on top?"
Arabella coughed into one deep scarlet sleeve. "Elise!" She smothered a laugh. "Where do you hear such things?"
"Servants, mostly. Soldiers who don't realize I'm in the next stall over, or just out of sight in the armory."
"That is my Elise, too informed for anyone's piece of mind."
Elise shrugged. "Grimmar?"
"He drinks heavily, as everyone knows. Heavily and frequently," Arabella replied. "Likely he will drown himself in wine before too many more years have passed. Shrewder than the others at politics, for all he's never sober. Housely is better in with the merchants and tradesmen. Walting has the best foreign relations. Of the three, Grimmar is the least likely to beat me."
"True enough," Elise said, making a face. Everyone knew Housely and Walting both believed, as did most men, that dogs and women required a heavy hand when it came to maintaining discipline. Elise pursed her lips in thoughts. "I suppose Grimmar could be helped along in drinking himself into the grave. Walting is not worth considering at all. Besides the beatings, he already has a daughter, and he is very likely to drag you out of the country. He has land and money aplenty, but fat good that does if you never enjoy the benefits of it."
Arabella sighed softly, looking at her slippers against the pale tiles that made up the garden walkways.
"So that leaves the corpulent toad or the drunk rat," Elise continued with a sigh of her own.
She did not bother to reply; there was no need. Arabella reached out and gently broke off one lush, pink rose, holding it to her face to smell it, stroke the soft petals against her cheek. She refused to think too hard about anything, because if she did she would give in to tears and now was not the time for a good cry. That would come later.
"He has arranged for me to leave for the Moonstone Convent after the Royal Tourney," Elise said softly into the silence.
"What?" Arabella exclaimed, dropping the rose in surprise. It landed in her lap, pink petals breaking off to scatter across the scarlet fabric, before the rose tumbled off to fall against the pale gray tiles. "Elise! No!" She did cry then, throwing her arms around her oldest and dearest friend, hugging her tight.
Elise in a convent was a bird in a cage – and the best way for her stepfather to get the money and land Elise's father had left to her. Her friend would wither and die in such a life. "Oh, Elise, no. I thought he would not go through with it; you have been fighting so hard. I do not understand. You are marriageable."
"Hardly," Elise said with a sad laugh. "I was ruined years ago, and not much of a blushing rose anyway."
You were kidnapped," Arabella hissed, angry as always at the abuse heaped upon Elise for something that had not been her fault.
"It's all the same," Elise replied, voice calm. "It littler matters to me, save that he wants to lock me up in that damnable convent."
Arabella drew back, wiping away tears. "Oh, Elise. Misery with you I could have borne. Misery alone, I may tip the poison into my own glass after all." She sighed softly, clearing away the last traces of her tears.
She reached out almost absently to touch the sword Elise wore. Given the hour, no doubt she had been on her way to practice in solitude while her stepfather was at dinner. "I wish you could be my Champion," Arabella said wistfully. "That would solve both our problems."
"You would still have to marry," Elise said. "I would still go to convent. Even pretending for a moment it would work – that I would be allowed to fight, that I could find a sponsor, that I could win, still they would make us do as we are told at the conclusion of the Tourney."
Arabella shook her head. "No, the victors of Tourney are threefold – the Champion takes a boon, the damsel takes a boon, and the sponsor gets obscene amounts of money. The boons may be whatever the Champion and damsel ask that is within the High King's power to give."
"If he feels like giving it," Elise said. "There are a few instances where he has refused to give the boon requested. I cannot see he would allow either one of us our freedom. You are too useful a Princess, and I am a woman with too much of her own money."
"Well, I cannot see why it's not worth trying."
"I can think of plenty," Elise said cynically, but a moment later she smiled faintly. "It is a nice thought, though, I grant you that."
Arabella fell silent for a moment, turning things over and over in her mind. "I guess the important thing is – would you want to be my Champion?"
"Yes," Elise said softly, reaching out and taking her hand, squeezing it firmly. "To free you, to free me, I would pay any price."
"No doubt it would be a thrill to swing a sword at certain heads as well," Arabella said with a snicker.
"A true lady never lets evil thoughts cloud her mind, but only of helping others," Elise said primly.
They shared a smile, hands still clasped.
"We should go read books," Arabella said at last, letting go to stand up and shake out her skirts, before holding her hand out again.
"Books?"
Arabella nodded. "Yes. Let us see what sort of precedent might have been set in past Tourneys that we might use to gain you entry. Then we'll work on sponsorship and permission. If we sneak through the chapel, we should be able to reach the library without interference."
Elise took her hand and together they left the rose garden, exchanging snickers as they snuck and slunk through the palace halls. Every now and then they ducked down a smaller highway, or hide in one of the many little nooks, to avoid a passing servant or harried looking official.
As they ducked down the back hall to the chapel, they softened their steps still further, gathering up their long skirts in anticipation. Arabella stuck her head in the chapel, taking a quick but thorough look around. When all seemed clear, she motioned with her fingers to Elise, who stepped up to stand beside her – then they ran, bolting across the chapel, dashing past the altar, bursting into excited, anxious giggles as they burst through the door opposite and barely avoided slamming into the wall outside.
Exchanging smiles as they calmed down, they shook out their skirts and slunk more sedately down the last few halls that brought them at last to the palace library.
"The law books are this way," Elise said softly, absently taking her hand as she led the way through the maze of shelves, tables, work rooms, statuary, and other ostentatious dictionary that composed the pride and joy of Arabella's father.
They both drew up short as they turned into the area sectioned off for a great portion of the law books – though not all of them, many were packed away to be pulled out upon request.
A man sat at the table. He was long and lanky, even seated, seemingly composed mostly of elbows and knees. His light brown hair was a messy, haphazard tangle of tight curls, and at some point he had taken off his spectacles and propped them unthinking in the mess, where they still lay precariously. Ink smudged one cheek, and there was more spotting the shoulder of his dark green tunic. A blue and yellow dragon was embroidered across the front of it, breathing red and orange flames that molded around the dragon in the shape of a shield.
He looked up, either having heard them or merely sensed a presence, blinked, then smiled. "Well, well," the man said. "If it is not the palace pixies, no doubt come to stir up still more mischief."
"If it is not the palace gremlin," Elise retorted, but with a rare, real smile.
The man laughed and closed the cumbersome book he had been reading. "What mischief do you seek to commit, my fair ladies? How may I serve you in that endeavor?"
"You should probably keep well away from us this time, Roderick," Arabella replied. "I think you have enough trouble in your life."
Roderick was the Duke of Ellesmoore, a title and lands notorious for never keeping one master for very long. The record belonged to Roderick's predecessor, a man who had died with any heirs just four years after taking the title. Everyone before him had faired no better.
In addition to that, Roderick cared nothing for fighting. He participated in no tourneys, did not practice with the other knights, had never been seen practicing by himself, and was most often found with his nose buried in a book. No one knew how he had become a knight, but it was known fact that the High King himself had bestowed Roderick's spurs.
He was mocked and jeered and ignored, by turns, but never really crossed. A man who came from the Holy City with spurs bestowed by the High King himself was not a man to cross, even if he was more than a little bit of a laughingstock when he was not in the room.
"Oh?" Roderick said. "Now, that does sound like fun. You mustn't leave me out. Does this have to do with the rumors flying about, that our fair Princess is to be married with the close of Tourney, and we are to lose our fair Lady Elise to the Moonstone?"
Arabella glared at him. "I only found out myself scarcely an hour ago, how do you already know?"
"I know everything, or near enough to it," Roderick said lazily, smiling his mysterious smile. Oh, it drove her crazy when he did that.
She balled her hand into a fist and shook it at him, at which he only laughed.
"So what are plotting?" he asked again, folding his arms behind his head and leaning back in his seat. "You must tell me, I command it."
"Brat," Elise grumbled, but Arabella knew she would give in. Roderick was one of the few men who treated Elise as though she were a lady the same as all the rest, as though there was no mark upon her good name. The way she deserved. It was one reason they called him friend.
The fact he had never expected anything inappropriate of them was another.
"We came to research the Royal Tourney," Elise said. "The laws, the history…" She hesitated. "Any unusual exceptions."
Roderick looked at them in silence, eyes doing dark and distant for a brief moment as he thought. Then he grinned. "A Lady Knight to Champion the Princess, and both remain free of husband and prayers? Is that the game we play?"
Arabella scowled. "You are just a show off, and we are not impressed."
Snickering, Roderick stood up and began to mess with his papers and books, frowning as he failed to find whatever he was seeking.
Elise and Arabella laughed. "In your hair," Elise said helpfully.
"Oh," Roderick said, and laughed sheepishly. He reached up and pulled out his spectacles, settling them on his nose. "Getting you into the Tourney may not be as hard as you think. The rules do not say you cannot."
"What do you mean?" Elise asked.
Arabella frowned, equally confused, but followed along as Roderick led them to a bookcase, and pulled down a book of moderate size. It was made of simply brown leather, with gold lettering. Flipping it open, he turned a few pages until he found what he wanted, then turned it so they could read.
"To qualify for participation in the Royal Tourney," he said, "the rules, revises five years ago, state that a participant must be native born, capable of paying all fees and ransoms, and a sworn knight or experienced in combat and fighting with the permission of a King."
Elise grimaced. "I am native born, and experienced in combat. I could pay my own fees, though it looks bad not to have a sponsor…but I lack the permission of a King. There is no way his Majesty will grant it, not when he likes my stepfather's money too much and they're both hoping to get their hands on mine soon…and I do not have time to travel to petition other Kings, and I cannot think they will grant it."
"You're also a woman," Arabella said. "That is our biggest problem."
Roderick grinned. "That's where you're wrong. Where does it say that being a man is required to participate?"
Arabella stared at him in surprise, then read over the rules again. "You're right."
"The beauty of assumption," Roderick said, snapping the book shut and shelving it. "When they wrote the rules, that a woman might want to compete never occurred to anyone." He winked. "They will change it after this Tourney, I would imagine, but for now they will have to let you participate."
"I still lack permission," Elise said.
Roderick waved the words aside with a hand motion. "You also need a sponsor, because it does look poorly to pay your own way. I will be your sponsor."
"What!" the women said together.
Elise shook her head. "Roderick, we did not even know you would be here – we cannot ask you to get embroiled with us."
"Oh, please," Roderick said. "This will give them something new to talk about. I have not done anything especially eccentric in at least two months. People keep asking if I am feeling well. The only real problem I see, is that many will assume we are lovers, and I am indulging you or some such."
"That is as nothing," Elise said with a bitter smile. "I have been nothing but disappointing for not sleeping with every man I see. They will believe you in better health, and that I am the harlot the way they always suspected. So long as you do not take offense that everyone says you are bedding me, I will weather the rumors well enough."
Roderick shrugged. "Most already think I fornicate with demons. A woman would be quite boring after that, I would think."
Arabella muffled a laugh with her long sleeve. "Such language before ladies!"
"Indeed."
"So now I only need to get the permission of a King," Elise said, chewing on her lower lip. "I see no way to surmount that obstacle."
Roderick smiled his mysterious smile. "Petition the High King. When you return to your room tonight, draft a letter to him, explaining everything. I do mean everything. He respects honesty, for he sees very little of it. Give the letter to me in the morning, and I will see it is delivered in time for you to be granted his permission to fight in the Royal Tourney."
They stared at him in shock.
Rumors abounded he knew the High King better than most, but Roderick had never confirmed it. This was the closest he had ever come.
At last, Elise simply nodded. "Thank you, Roderick."
"Oh, fah," Roderick said, dismissing her words. "This will be interesting. Do me proud, Lady Knight. I will be there to cheer you on." He took each of their hands, and kissed the knuckles softly, and with a last hint of his mysterious smile, returned to his books.
Realizing they had been dismissed, not quite certain why or how he was able to dismiss them from the library, Arabella took Elise's hand, and together they left, parting only when they must to go to their respective rooms, kissing one another's cheeks in farewell.
*~*~*
You are evil to leave us here alone and unable to read more
Date: 2008-06-14 05:28 am (UTC)I love Roderick. He and I do the same thing with our glasses, mine have to be pried out of my hair in many cases with the loss of many strands left wrapped around the nose pads or in the hinges.
Why has Roderick come to this place where people don't respect him as a Duke should be?
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Date: 2008-06-14 06:02 am (UTC)More please? ^_^
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Date: 2008-06-14 06:07 am (UTC)Also yay for sneaky Roderick! I'm most interested to see what he will be up to. *snickers*
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Date: 2008-06-14 06:39 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-14 08:29 am (UTC)Aside from that, Roderick sounds FUN. XD
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Date: 2008-06-14 12:12 pm (UTC)the three of them plotting around the rules and the implications and questions you've left us with?
OH PLEASE WRITE MORE FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THE UNHOLY!!!
i'm hooked. it was only a matter of time.
thankee!
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Date: 2008-06-14 12:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-14 01:39 pm (UTC)Roderick looks really interesting and this whole high king business too - suppose roderick is there to act as undercover agent for said king? hmmmm i'm sure you'll answer all the questions by the end (will touch base on how he got his spurs?)
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Date: 2008-06-14 04:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-14 07:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-15 12:06 am (UTC)