more Champion
Jun. 16th, 2008 08:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrI wrote a fair bit while stuck in the motherfucking airport.
While stuck on the fucking plane, I also wrote (but have not yet typed) a good chunk of the other story everyone seems to be clammoring about - Roderick's, so never fear, you will see his story.
for now, pardon all the errors. I'll find a beta for it once I'm done with the whole shebang.
*~*~*
Arabella gathered up the skirts of her frost green gown and slipped through the crowd, gritting her teeth against the pain, biting her lip when someone's elbow connected with her back. Blinking away tears of pain, she continued to fight her way through the throngs of people.
The sun beat down, hot and heavy, as she left the cool shade of the canopy. Wiping the sweat that immediately began to form on her brow, grateful she had decided to bind her hair after all, she resumed the fight against the tide of the milling crowds. Vendors and jugglers jostled for her attention and coin, knights and nobles and peasants all looking at her until she caught their eyes and willed them to speak, others oblivious as they laughed and talked with their companions, messengers and children running to and fro with missives and ordered food and objects fetched from tents. Spaces not occupied by people were taken up by tents or animals, and the whole affair reeked of sweat and dung and food and blood.
She was oblivious to all of it, her focus for only one thing.
At last she broke through the throng, wanting to sob with pain and fear and relief, but vehemently refusing. Reaching the field where tents for the competitors had been pitched that they might rest between their bouts.
Ignoring the looks and not-so-quiet whispers as she passed, she made her way straight to a striped blue and yellow tent at the very edge of the field.
Pushing her way inside, she stopped just inside simply to look.
Elise sat on the edge of a small bed, mostly stripped of her armor, head resting in one hand – from exhaustion or pain or both, Arabella could not tell. Blood from a nasty gash dripped from one cheek, the skin around it already turning blue and black from bruising. Given the brutality of the hit she had taken, she likely had a bruise on her shoulder as well. She had also had a nasty bought earlier in the day, matching staffs with stupid Sir Redbank.
Her hair was sticking up every which way, in a final act of defiance Elise had shorn her hair so that it would not get in her way. Shortened, it was as curly and wild as Roderick's hair, so black now Arabella could see hints of blue when the sun struck it.
Elise was smeared with dirt and sweat and dried blood, clothes plastered to her body with more sweat and grime. She looked drained; Arabella had never seen her friend so worn and weary. It made her feel ashamed, that she had been so stupid as to do this to Elise.
Arabella brushed away a few escaped tears, then strode to the tent and knelt to finish removing the shin guards Elise still wore.
Elise jumped, and Arabella realized she had actually fallen asleep sitting. "Arabella. What are you doing here?"
"Helping you, silly," Arabella said quietly, tossing aside the pieces of armor as she finished removing them. That done, she stood and finally removed the bag she had slung across her shoulder. Moving the other side of the small tent, she poured out water from a pitcher into a deep bowl, then carried it over to the bed. From her bag, she pulled a small bottle, drizzling some of the contents in the water, stirring it in with a soft cloth.
Ringing the cloth out, she gently applied it to the cut, working slowly and carefully until the blood was cleaned away. "My heart stopped when you fell from your horse," Arabella said. It had, truly. She had not even been able to draw the breath for a scream, the fear had so consumed her. "I was never happier in my life than when I saw you stand again. Are you all right, more or less?"
"More or less," Elise said, but did not look at her. Instead, she simply stared at the green and blue rug covering the floor of her tent, reaching up absently to touch the wound on her cheek. "It will scar," she said quietly. "Not that any one will have me anyway, but at least before they could not say I was ugly. Stupid, to fret about it…" She dropped her hand.
Arabella dropped her rag and herbs, and threw her arms around Elise. "Oh, no, Elise. You are not ugly. You will never be ugly. Do not say such things!" She pulled back just enough to stroke her hands through Elise's short hair. "You have been magnificent out there, fighting all day long, holding your own! A fall from a horse and you still won the bout!"
Elise smiled faintly. "It was a near thing."
Still her voice did not hold its usual fire.
Shame filled Arabella to the point of overflowing. She had done this; it was all her fault. They had agreed to do it together, but had she really thought about the full cost? No, she had not. Of course they would both be hated, rejected – that they had accepted.
But the cost to Elise was so much greater. She was the one being hurt, being injured, who would bear marks the rest of her life. She might even lose a limb, if not her life – and it had been Arabella's idea.
She sank to her knees and wrapped her arms around Elise's waist, still trying not to cry because that would only make Elise feel bad. Her own pain she ignored, because it was still nothing in comparison to the bruises and wounds marking Elise from head to foot. "Oh, Elise. I am sorry. I should never have asked this of you, it was selfish of me. We should not have done this, it is not—"
Elise grabbed her shoulders and pushed, forcing Arabella to sit up and back.
"Do not say that," Elise said furiously, but she was blinking rapidly, obviously holding back her own tears. "Do you really mean it? You are sorry we have done this?"
Arabella's shoulders drooped, and she stared at Elise's lap, the tears in her breeches, the hints of bruising beneath. "I did not think this far – you injured and scared, how brutal they would be—" She drew a shaky breath and looked up. "Just stop."
"So you are giving up on me?" Elise demanded bitterly. "All of this was for nothing?"
"What?" Arabella said. "No—"
"Then why are you saying we should quit? I have fought all day, for us, for our freedom, and you are telling me it was for nothing."
Arabella opened her mouth, then shut it again. She shook her head, feeling an escaped strand of her sticking to her neck with sweat. "No," she said at last, voice quiet. "I do not like seeing you hurt. I do not want you to call yourself ugly. I was selfish, in not properly thinking of how great the cost would be for you."
"Oh, Arabella," Elise said softly. "I knew what I was doing, and what would happen. You did not make all the decisions, you goose. You asked me if I wanted to be your Champion, and I said I did. I still do." She cupped Arabella's head in her own rough, blistered and bloody hands, tilting her face up, green eyes pale and pretty, but full of so much intensity. "I want to be your Champion, Arabella. So never again will you have to walk around with lash wounds upon your back."
"I was hoping you would not notice those," Arabella replied, mustering a smile. "Father obviously was less than pleased with my defiance, but what could he do? I chose for Champion a participant who received the personal blessing of the High King, and the sponsorship of a man who is clearly friend to the High King."
She raised up on her knees, resting her hands on the bed for balance, and kissed Elise softly, tasting blood from a split in Elise's lip. Then she moved to kiss the skin near the fresh wound on her cheek. "I'm sorry, Champion. I only worry for you, and hate you take these wounds in my name."
"You are worth it," Elise said softly, and hesitated, then leaned in close enough to kiss her softly.
Arabella pulled away, and realized she did so reluctantly. "Are you finished fighting for today?" she asked.
"No," Elise said. "I have a sword match in a few hours, and then I will be finished. Tomorrow is only a final sword duel, if I win the one today."
"If you win…" Arabella's breath caught, as realization crashed through. She had been so busy with worrying and self-recrimination, it had not even struck her… "You are in the final rounds!" she cried, and screamed in excitement. "I did not even realize! If you win today's last duel, then tomorrow is the final round!" She screamed again, and threw herself into Elise's arms, the force of it knocking them over onto the bed.
Elise grunted in pain beneath her, and Arabella immediately scrambled back – but Elise kept her from climbing off the bed entirely. "Stay with me," she said softly, quietly…hesitantly, Arabella thought. "You must be as much pain as me, if you have been walking around with your back sore and probably bloody. I knew when I saw you wearing a black bodice that he must have lashed you. I wanted to kill him, but I settled for beating his favorite knight in the mace competitions. If you think my wounds are ugly, you should take a look at Greenwall's!"
"He was ugly as a post before you struck him," Arabella said contemptuously, thinking of the nasty little bit of pond scum who liked to look down her bodice as often as possible. "It is quite possible you have improved his looks." She rested her head on the pillow next to Elise, reaching out to gently touch the wound, which would in a few days be a long scar cutting from beneath her eye in a ragged line to the corner of her mouth. "Your wounds are not ugly. I think it will make you look fierce, like a knight or something." She smiled. "Sir Elise."
Elise snorted. "The sun is addling your wits."
Arabella snickered, letting her eyes fall shut, reaching out to take Elise's hand and hold it in her own as she began to sink into a sleep that she realized she needed.
She woke to the sound of metal chinking and softly muttered curses. Rubbing her eyes, she slowly untangled her skirts and sat up, shoving back escaped bits of hair. She would probably have to take it down and put it up again before she was fit to be seen in public again.
As she watched Elise dress, she began to do precisely that, removing pins and ribbons with practiced ease. Once she had figured out her father used her maids to spy upon her, she had rejected all use of one, and managed alone.
Hair down, she began to comb her fingers through it. "How do you manage all that armor by yourself?" she asked, shaking her head in wonder and admiration as she watched Elise buckle and strap and otherwise attach myriad pieces of metal. "Never mind wear it all."
Elise grinned. "It is not so hard. My father insisted all his soldiers, daughter included, know how to do everything alone. It is stupid to assume one will always be in a situation where he can call upon help, he always said. My armor is made for me, much like what I used to own, thanks to Roderick. Speaking of which, I believe he stopped by while we slept." She nodded at the trunk at the end of the bed, which also served as a table.
Arabella paused in the difficult and painful process of ridding her long hair of knots to look.
A tray of food sat there, along with two cups and a pitcher of dark wine.
"No one else will bring me food," Elise explained. "Only you and Roderick. He also left you a note."
Following the finger Elise pointed, she saw the small note folded over and sealed with Roderick's mark tucked halfway beneath the tray so it would not get lost.
Hair abandoned for the moment, she scooted to the edge of the bed and retrieved the note. Breaking the wax seal, she skimmed the note. Then she read it again more slowly.
"You look quite shocked," Elise said, strapped her sword belt into place before moving to sit beside her on the bed. "What is it?"
Arabella shook her head and held out the note.
Elise whistled after she had read it. "Invited to sit with the Duke in the High King's box. I guess they have decided we are not hated quite enough."
"There are others cheering for you," Arabella said. "Did you know that?"
"I notice when you are cheering," Elise said with a shrug, "or when you are not. Otherwise, I do not take note. There rest of my attention goes to not getting my head bashed in."
Arabella winced at the offhand remark, but did not comment upon it. "Well, many a young woman is cheering for you when her father or mother is not in attendance, and I have heard enough snatches of conversation to know a great many purses will be filled or emptied upon your victory tomorrow."
Elise snorted. "It is nothing short of a miracle that I have made it this far, especially when you consider that I have not seen proper combat in years. "
"Fah," Arabella replied. "Most men see only a few brigands every year, where real combat is concerned. Many do not see even that; these tournaments form the bulk of their combat experience."
"I think many of them simply underestimated me, at the start," Elise said. "They may still hate me, now, but they will not think me weak simply because I am a woman, now. They are starting to hit harder. If I make it through today, it will be one more miracle. Tomorrow I dare not think about."
Arabella scoffed as she swiftly braided her hair, using the remaining bits of green ribbon to tie it off, before she wound it all on top of her head, using jeweled pins to fasten it securely in place. She stood up and gave Elise a hug. "Miracle, nothing. If I am not allowed to doubt you, Elise, you are forbidden to doubt yourself. Miracles and luck are not sufficient to carry you this far, and if you have made it this far you stand a good chance of winning tomorrow."
Elise kissed her cheek. "Thank you. Let us hope so. Though, I scarcely know what I would do if we were actually to be granted our freedom."
"Nor I," Arabella replied. "I dare not think about it, but I think should we take it, the very idea we may ask will go straight to my head. Thinking about actually getting it makes me dizzy. Of course, if I am free, I likely will be penniless as well."
"I will keep you," Elise said with a smile.
Arabella giggled. "Me the fallen woman? Kept by my Lady Knight. That is a life to which I think I could adjust."
"Then I shall do my best to obtain it for us," Elise replied, and bent to kiss her cheek one last time.
On impulse, Arabella turned just enough the kiss struck her lips instead. The kiss lingered, neither inclined suddenly to break apart.
The jangling of the tent bells drew their attention, and Arabella stepped hastily away, holding her hands to her suddenly flushed cheeks.
She looked up, smiling absently, as Roderick stepped into the tent.
"Are you ready for your last match of the day, Elise? I came to make certain you woke in time; you both seemed quite dead to the world." He paused as he took in Arabella's flushed cheeks, the way they both avoided one another's gazes.
Both girls were too preoccupied and distracted to notice his amused and knowing smirk.
"Arabella," he continued. "Did you get my note?"
"Yes," Arabella replied. "I was going to join you once I saw Elise off."
Roderick nodded.
"I'm ready," Elise said, picking up her helmet before striding to the edge of the tent.
"Oh!" Arabella said. "Wait a moment." She turned and snatched up the ribbon she had left on the bed. Earlier she'd had green and white ribbons in her hair; when she had fixed it, she had used only the green ribbon.
Taking up the white, she strode to Elise and looped the long silk ribbon around her waist, tucking the trailing ends into her sword belt. "I have not given you a token, Champion." She reached up on her toes to give a fleeting kiss. "Good luck."
"Thank you," Elise replied, then departed.
"She is doing well," Roderick commented lightly as he held out his arm for Arabella to take, leading her out of the tent and back toward the main tourney fields. "Francis has been most impressed. I think he is already plotting things, though he had not seen fit to inform me of any of those plotting."
Arabella's brow furrowed in confusion. "Francis?"
Roderick smiled sheepishly. "Forgive me, it would seem I am falling back into bad habit. I meant his Majesty."
"Oh," Arabella said weakly. Who in the world accidentally used the High King's given name? Because he had 'fallen back into bad habit'. Her head spun with it – on some level, she had not really known the High King possessed any name but his title. Even if he did, it was not the sort of thing anyone was fit to know.
Except, apparently, Roderick.
They finished the short trip in silence, Arabella lost in wonder and thought, and fretting about Elise, until Roderick's friendly call drew her attention.
"Here is the Princess, Sire, as you commanded," Roderick said, sweeping the High King a deep bow. Respectful, perfectly executed, but Arabella had the impression there was something playful in the gesture.
No one save they three, she could not help but notice, occupied the High King's box.
In years past the box had always been filled with the various courtiers who wanted to please or needed to be pleased, or perhaps those who were only the High King's friends.
She executed a deep curtsy, rising only when the High King said she might, and moved slowly to the seat he indicated. Only habit and years of training allowed her to chat and converse with seeming ease while her insides quaked in nervousness.
Yes, after a few moments, as the bouts below continued, she found it was easier and easier to speak with the High King. Part of that was Roderick, who seemed as lazy and carefree as always, from his place standing right beside the High King's seat.
Neither was the High King as stiff and…King-like, she supposed, as she had thought he would be. Obviously a foolish concept to cling to, after he had been bold enough to permit Elise to enter the Royal Tourney. Still, her impression of royalty was her father and all those men with whom he got along.
The High King was nothing like them, sharing jests and conversing with the same light manner as Roderick, though he did share the lazy, almost careless manner that was Roderick's alone.
After a while, the High King motioned, and Roderick moved forward to lower thin silk screens, blocking out the worst of the sun and heat – and shading all three of them from spectators.
"Let them stew on that," Roderick said with a chuckle. "Now they will all be bursting to know what you must discuss with Princess in secret."
The High King laughed. "You are not happy unless you are up to mischief, Roderick."
"It is my one true talent," Roderick replied, smiling his stranger smile.
Arabella could only stare as the High King returned it, and realized there were more secrets in that smile than she could possibly imagine. She wondered for what must be the thousandth time, what all Roderick's secrets were, what kind of man could call in favors from the High King.
Then she caught a flash of familiar armor, and all thoughts of Roderick and secrets were banished from her mind by thoughts of Elise.
She looked so good on the field, sword out, armor flashing where it was not caked with mud and grime, the Ellesmoore Dragon painted in brilliant colors on her shield. Arabella was near to bursting watching her, and completely forgot where she was as she fell into cheering and screaming, excitement and fear, nearly screaming herself hoarse when it became obvious that Elise was going to win.
When the opposing knight fell, and did not get up again, there was a brief pause of shocked disbelief. Not one spectator could think of a single thing to say.
Then Arabella began to cheer wildly from behind the silk screen, and a breath later other women joined in, then a few men, and then suddenly the whole of the stadium was cheering for the Lady Champion.
"One more," Arabella said, laughing in thrilled disbelief. "One more and she will have one."
"Yes," the High King rumbled, making Arabella jump, recalling her to her place.
She spun around, skirts flying about wildly, cheeks going hot. "Oh, Majesty. I beg pardon for my behavior." She blinked, hard, to see that at some point Roderick had sat down – on the arm of the High King's chair.
"No apology required," the High King replied with an easy smile. "You are cheering for your Champion, as you should. I thank you for keeping me company the past few hours. Now, go and see your Champion, Princess. I am sure that it would do her good to see her maiden right now."
Arabella did not hesitate, but bobbed a quick curtsy before bolting from the box and back across the field toward Elise's tent.
While stuck on the fucking plane, I also wrote (but have not yet typed) a good chunk of the other story everyone seems to be clammoring about - Roderick's, so never fear, you will see his story.
for now, pardon all the errors. I'll find a beta for it once I'm done with the whole shebang.
*~*~*
Arabella gathered up the skirts of her frost green gown and slipped through the crowd, gritting her teeth against the pain, biting her lip when someone's elbow connected with her back. Blinking away tears of pain, she continued to fight her way through the throngs of people.
The sun beat down, hot and heavy, as she left the cool shade of the canopy. Wiping the sweat that immediately began to form on her brow, grateful she had decided to bind her hair after all, she resumed the fight against the tide of the milling crowds. Vendors and jugglers jostled for her attention and coin, knights and nobles and peasants all looking at her until she caught their eyes and willed them to speak, others oblivious as they laughed and talked with their companions, messengers and children running to and fro with missives and ordered food and objects fetched from tents. Spaces not occupied by people were taken up by tents or animals, and the whole affair reeked of sweat and dung and food and blood.
She was oblivious to all of it, her focus for only one thing.
At last she broke through the throng, wanting to sob with pain and fear and relief, but vehemently refusing. Reaching the field where tents for the competitors had been pitched that they might rest between their bouts.
Ignoring the looks and not-so-quiet whispers as she passed, she made her way straight to a striped blue and yellow tent at the very edge of the field.
Pushing her way inside, she stopped just inside simply to look.
Elise sat on the edge of a small bed, mostly stripped of her armor, head resting in one hand – from exhaustion or pain or both, Arabella could not tell. Blood from a nasty gash dripped from one cheek, the skin around it already turning blue and black from bruising. Given the brutality of the hit she had taken, she likely had a bruise on her shoulder as well. She had also had a nasty bought earlier in the day, matching staffs with stupid Sir Redbank.
Her hair was sticking up every which way, in a final act of defiance Elise had shorn her hair so that it would not get in her way. Shortened, it was as curly and wild as Roderick's hair, so black now Arabella could see hints of blue when the sun struck it.
Elise was smeared with dirt and sweat and dried blood, clothes plastered to her body with more sweat and grime. She looked drained; Arabella had never seen her friend so worn and weary. It made her feel ashamed, that she had been so stupid as to do this to Elise.
Arabella brushed away a few escaped tears, then strode to the tent and knelt to finish removing the shin guards Elise still wore.
Elise jumped, and Arabella realized she had actually fallen asleep sitting. "Arabella. What are you doing here?"
"Helping you, silly," Arabella said quietly, tossing aside the pieces of armor as she finished removing them. That done, she stood and finally removed the bag she had slung across her shoulder. Moving the other side of the small tent, she poured out water from a pitcher into a deep bowl, then carried it over to the bed. From her bag, she pulled a small bottle, drizzling some of the contents in the water, stirring it in with a soft cloth.
Ringing the cloth out, she gently applied it to the cut, working slowly and carefully until the blood was cleaned away. "My heart stopped when you fell from your horse," Arabella said. It had, truly. She had not even been able to draw the breath for a scream, the fear had so consumed her. "I was never happier in my life than when I saw you stand again. Are you all right, more or less?"
"More or less," Elise said, but did not look at her. Instead, she simply stared at the green and blue rug covering the floor of her tent, reaching up absently to touch the wound on her cheek. "It will scar," she said quietly. "Not that any one will have me anyway, but at least before they could not say I was ugly. Stupid, to fret about it…" She dropped her hand.
Arabella dropped her rag and herbs, and threw her arms around Elise. "Oh, no, Elise. You are not ugly. You will never be ugly. Do not say such things!" She pulled back just enough to stroke her hands through Elise's short hair. "You have been magnificent out there, fighting all day long, holding your own! A fall from a horse and you still won the bout!"
Elise smiled faintly. "It was a near thing."
Still her voice did not hold its usual fire.
Shame filled Arabella to the point of overflowing. She had done this; it was all her fault. They had agreed to do it together, but had she really thought about the full cost? No, she had not. Of course they would both be hated, rejected – that they had accepted.
But the cost to Elise was so much greater. She was the one being hurt, being injured, who would bear marks the rest of her life. She might even lose a limb, if not her life – and it had been Arabella's idea.
She sank to her knees and wrapped her arms around Elise's waist, still trying not to cry because that would only make Elise feel bad. Her own pain she ignored, because it was still nothing in comparison to the bruises and wounds marking Elise from head to foot. "Oh, Elise. I am sorry. I should never have asked this of you, it was selfish of me. We should not have done this, it is not—"
Elise grabbed her shoulders and pushed, forcing Arabella to sit up and back.
"Do not say that," Elise said furiously, but she was blinking rapidly, obviously holding back her own tears. "Do you really mean it? You are sorry we have done this?"
Arabella's shoulders drooped, and she stared at Elise's lap, the tears in her breeches, the hints of bruising beneath. "I did not think this far – you injured and scared, how brutal they would be—" She drew a shaky breath and looked up. "Just stop."
"So you are giving up on me?" Elise demanded bitterly. "All of this was for nothing?"
"What?" Arabella said. "No—"
"Then why are you saying we should quit? I have fought all day, for us, for our freedom, and you are telling me it was for nothing."
Arabella opened her mouth, then shut it again. She shook her head, feeling an escaped strand of her sticking to her neck with sweat. "No," she said at last, voice quiet. "I do not like seeing you hurt. I do not want you to call yourself ugly. I was selfish, in not properly thinking of how great the cost would be for you."
"Oh, Arabella," Elise said softly. "I knew what I was doing, and what would happen. You did not make all the decisions, you goose. You asked me if I wanted to be your Champion, and I said I did. I still do." She cupped Arabella's head in her own rough, blistered and bloody hands, tilting her face up, green eyes pale and pretty, but full of so much intensity. "I want to be your Champion, Arabella. So never again will you have to walk around with lash wounds upon your back."
"I was hoping you would not notice those," Arabella replied, mustering a smile. "Father obviously was less than pleased with my defiance, but what could he do? I chose for Champion a participant who received the personal blessing of the High King, and the sponsorship of a man who is clearly friend to the High King."
She raised up on her knees, resting her hands on the bed for balance, and kissed Elise softly, tasting blood from a split in Elise's lip. Then she moved to kiss the skin near the fresh wound on her cheek. "I'm sorry, Champion. I only worry for you, and hate you take these wounds in my name."
"You are worth it," Elise said softly, and hesitated, then leaned in close enough to kiss her softly.
Arabella pulled away, and realized she did so reluctantly. "Are you finished fighting for today?" she asked.
"No," Elise said. "I have a sword match in a few hours, and then I will be finished. Tomorrow is only a final sword duel, if I win the one today."
"If you win…" Arabella's breath caught, as realization crashed through. She had been so busy with worrying and self-recrimination, it had not even struck her… "You are in the final rounds!" she cried, and screamed in excitement. "I did not even realize! If you win today's last duel, then tomorrow is the final round!" She screamed again, and threw herself into Elise's arms, the force of it knocking them over onto the bed.
Elise grunted in pain beneath her, and Arabella immediately scrambled back – but Elise kept her from climbing off the bed entirely. "Stay with me," she said softly, quietly…hesitantly, Arabella thought. "You must be as much pain as me, if you have been walking around with your back sore and probably bloody. I knew when I saw you wearing a black bodice that he must have lashed you. I wanted to kill him, but I settled for beating his favorite knight in the mace competitions. If you think my wounds are ugly, you should take a look at Greenwall's!"
"He was ugly as a post before you struck him," Arabella said contemptuously, thinking of the nasty little bit of pond scum who liked to look down her bodice as often as possible. "It is quite possible you have improved his looks." She rested her head on the pillow next to Elise, reaching out to gently touch the wound, which would in a few days be a long scar cutting from beneath her eye in a ragged line to the corner of her mouth. "Your wounds are not ugly. I think it will make you look fierce, like a knight or something." She smiled. "Sir Elise."
Elise snorted. "The sun is addling your wits."
Arabella snickered, letting her eyes fall shut, reaching out to take Elise's hand and hold it in her own as she began to sink into a sleep that she realized she needed.
She woke to the sound of metal chinking and softly muttered curses. Rubbing her eyes, she slowly untangled her skirts and sat up, shoving back escaped bits of hair. She would probably have to take it down and put it up again before she was fit to be seen in public again.
As she watched Elise dress, she began to do precisely that, removing pins and ribbons with practiced ease. Once she had figured out her father used her maids to spy upon her, she had rejected all use of one, and managed alone.
Hair down, she began to comb her fingers through it. "How do you manage all that armor by yourself?" she asked, shaking her head in wonder and admiration as she watched Elise buckle and strap and otherwise attach myriad pieces of metal. "Never mind wear it all."
Elise grinned. "It is not so hard. My father insisted all his soldiers, daughter included, know how to do everything alone. It is stupid to assume one will always be in a situation where he can call upon help, he always said. My armor is made for me, much like what I used to own, thanks to Roderick. Speaking of which, I believe he stopped by while we slept." She nodded at the trunk at the end of the bed, which also served as a table.
Arabella paused in the difficult and painful process of ridding her long hair of knots to look.
A tray of food sat there, along with two cups and a pitcher of dark wine.
"No one else will bring me food," Elise explained. "Only you and Roderick. He also left you a note."
Following the finger Elise pointed, she saw the small note folded over and sealed with Roderick's mark tucked halfway beneath the tray so it would not get lost.
Hair abandoned for the moment, she scooted to the edge of the bed and retrieved the note. Breaking the wax seal, she skimmed the note. Then she read it again more slowly.
"You look quite shocked," Elise said, strapped her sword belt into place before moving to sit beside her on the bed. "What is it?"
Arabella shook her head and held out the note.
Elise whistled after she had read it. "Invited to sit with the Duke in the High King's box. I guess they have decided we are not hated quite enough."
"There are others cheering for you," Arabella said. "Did you know that?"
"I notice when you are cheering," Elise said with a shrug, "or when you are not. Otherwise, I do not take note. There rest of my attention goes to not getting my head bashed in."
Arabella winced at the offhand remark, but did not comment upon it. "Well, many a young woman is cheering for you when her father or mother is not in attendance, and I have heard enough snatches of conversation to know a great many purses will be filled or emptied upon your victory tomorrow."
Elise snorted. "It is nothing short of a miracle that I have made it this far, especially when you consider that I have not seen proper combat in years. "
"Fah," Arabella replied. "Most men see only a few brigands every year, where real combat is concerned. Many do not see even that; these tournaments form the bulk of their combat experience."
"I think many of them simply underestimated me, at the start," Elise said. "They may still hate me, now, but they will not think me weak simply because I am a woman, now. They are starting to hit harder. If I make it through today, it will be one more miracle. Tomorrow I dare not think about."
Arabella scoffed as she swiftly braided her hair, using the remaining bits of green ribbon to tie it off, before she wound it all on top of her head, using jeweled pins to fasten it securely in place. She stood up and gave Elise a hug. "Miracle, nothing. If I am not allowed to doubt you, Elise, you are forbidden to doubt yourself. Miracles and luck are not sufficient to carry you this far, and if you have made it this far you stand a good chance of winning tomorrow."
Elise kissed her cheek. "Thank you. Let us hope so. Though, I scarcely know what I would do if we were actually to be granted our freedom."
"Nor I," Arabella replied. "I dare not think about it, but I think should we take it, the very idea we may ask will go straight to my head. Thinking about actually getting it makes me dizzy. Of course, if I am free, I likely will be penniless as well."
"I will keep you," Elise said with a smile.
Arabella giggled. "Me the fallen woman? Kept by my Lady Knight. That is a life to which I think I could adjust."
"Then I shall do my best to obtain it for us," Elise replied, and bent to kiss her cheek one last time.
On impulse, Arabella turned just enough the kiss struck her lips instead. The kiss lingered, neither inclined suddenly to break apart.
The jangling of the tent bells drew their attention, and Arabella stepped hastily away, holding her hands to her suddenly flushed cheeks.
She looked up, smiling absently, as Roderick stepped into the tent.
"Are you ready for your last match of the day, Elise? I came to make certain you woke in time; you both seemed quite dead to the world." He paused as he took in Arabella's flushed cheeks, the way they both avoided one another's gazes.
Both girls were too preoccupied and distracted to notice his amused and knowing smirk.
"Arabella," he continued. "Did you get my note?"
"Yes," Arabella replied. "I was going to join you once I saw Elise off."
Roderick nodded.
"I'm ready," Elise said, picking up her helmet before striding to the edge of the tent.
"Oh!" Arabella said. "Wait a moment." She turned and snatched up the ribbon she had left on the bed. Earlier she'd had green and white ribbons in her hair; when she had fixed it, she had used only the green ribbon.
Taking up the white, she strode to Elise and looped the long silk ribbon around her waist, tucking the trailing ends into her sword belt. "I have not given you a token, Champion." She reached up on her toes to give a fleeting kiss. "Good luck."
"Thank you," Elise replied, then departed.
"She is doing well," Roderick commented lightly as he held out his arm for Arabella to take, leading her out of the tent and back toward the main tourney fields. "Francis has been most impressed. I think he is already plotting things, though he had not seen fit to inform me of any of those plotting."
Arabella's brow furrowed in confusion. "Francis?"
Roderick smiled sheepishly. "Forgive me, it would seem I am falling back into bad habit. I meant his Majesty."
"Oh," Arabella said weakly. Who in the world accidentally used the High King's given name? Because he had 'fallen back into bad habit'. Her head spun with it – on some level, she had not really known the High King possessed any name but his title. Even if he did, it was not the sort of thing anyone was fit to know.
Except, apparently, Roderick.
They finished the short trip in silence, Arabella lost in wonder and thought, and fretting about Elise, until Roderick's friendly call drew her attention.
"Here is the Princess, Sire, as you commanded," Roderick said, sweeping the High King a deep bow. Respectful, perfectly executed, but Arabella had the impression there was something playful in the gesture.
No one save they three, she could not help but notice, occupied the High King's box.
In years past the box had always been filled with the various courtiers who wanted to please or needed to be pleased, or perhaps those who were only the High King's friends.
She executed a deep curtsy, rising only when the High King said she might, and moved slowly to the seat he indicated. Only habit and years of training allowed her to chat and converse with seeming ease while her insides quaked in nervousness.
Yes, after a few moments, as the bouts below continued, she found it was easier and easier to speak with the High King. Part of that was Roderick, who seemed as lazy and carefree as always, from his place standing right beside the High King's seat.
Neither was the High King as stiff and…King-like, she supposed, as she had thought he would be. Obviously a foolish concept to cling to, after he had been bold enough to permit Elise to enter the Royal Tourney. Still, her impression of royalty was her father and all those men with whom he got along.
The High King was nothing like them, sharing jests and conversing with the same light manner as Roderick, though he did share the lazy, almost careless manner that was Roderick's alone.
After a while, the High King motioned, and Roderick moved forward to lower thin silk screens, blocking out the worst of the sun and heat – and shading all three of them from spectators.
"Let them stew on that," Roderick said with a chuckle. "Now they will all be bursting to know what you must discuss with Princess in secret."
The High King laughed. "You are not happy unless you are up to mischief, Roderick."
"It is my one true talent," Roderick replied, smiling his stranger smile.
Arabella could only stare as the High King returned it, and realized there were more secrets in that smile than she could possibly imagine. She wondered for what must be the thousandth time, what all Roderick's secrets were, what kind of man could call in favors from the High King.
Then she caught a flash of familiar armor, and all thoughts of Roderick and secrets were banished from her mind by thoughts of Elise.
She looked so good on the field, sword out, armor flashing where it was not caked with mud and grime, the Ellesmoore Dragon painted in brilliant colors on her shield. Arabella was near to bursting watching her, and completely forgot where she was as she fell into cheering and screaming, excitement and fear, nearly screaming herself hoarse when it became obvious that Elise was going to win.
When the opposing knight fell, and did not get up again, there was a brief pause of shocked disbelief. Not one spectator could think of a single thing to say.
Then Arabella began to cheer wildly from behind the silk screen, and a breath later other women joined in, then a few men, and then suddenly the whole of the stadium was cheering for the Lady Champion.
"One more," Arabella said, laughing in thrilled disbelief. "One more and she will have one."
"Yes," the High King rumbled, making Arabella jump, recalling her to her place.
She spun around, skirts flying about wildly, cheeks going hot. "Oh, Majesty. I beg pardon for my behavior." She blinked, hard, to see that at some point Roderick had sat down – on the arm of the High King's chair.
"No apology required," the High King replied with an easy smile. "You are cheering for your Champion, as you should. I thank you for keeping me company the past few hours. Now, go and see your Champion, Princess. I am sure that it would do her good to see her maiden right now."
Arabella did not hesitate, but bobbed a quick curtsy before bolting from the box and back across the field toward Elise's tent.
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Date: 2008-06-17 12:31 am (UTC)I love that Elise was taught by her father how to do the armor and that Arabella dismissed her maids and can do her hair by herself. I like too, that they are familiar enough with each other that Elise knows by the black bodice that Arabella's father had punished her. (And I am totally rooting for something extremely upsetting to happen to Arabella's father.)
But uh, very very excited and happy with this story. You are a really wonderful writer, the way you can tackle anything and make it your own and lovely. ^_____^
(And I totally am rooting for Roderick's story too. He's cool. ^__~)
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Date: 2008-06-17 12:40 am (UTC)And Roderick and Frances! Squee!
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Date: 2008-06-17 12:58 am (UTC)Fucking stupid planes.
Your roommate's a hosebeast. Time to move! :o)
<3
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Date: 2008-06-17 01:09 am (UTC)Two hours over, I think. And I would have, believe me, except the flight industry's new favorite game is 'let's get everyone on the plane, then tell them there's a problem, and then tell them that they have to sit trapped in the tin can while we jack off' They can't figure this shit out while the plane is fucking sitting there empty, oh no, they figure out it can't fly after we're on the plane and already running late. FAIL.
I think the final insult was when I tried to text you about the half dozen chicks in tie dye that should not be wearing tie dye, only to realize that in punching in your number, I'd left one out somewhere. Harrisburg was trying to eat my soul.
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Date: 2008-06-17 01:27 am (UTC)Roderick and Francis are so cute! I'm glad you have started Roderick's story.^^
I hope that tomorrow is better than you fear. *snugs*
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Date: 2008-06-17 01:36 am (UTC)Even if the two main female characters aren't romantically involved this would be worthy of reading. A good example of Young Adult fiction with a story that doesn't limit the role that a mere female can attain.
You tease us with Roderick sitting on the arm of the High King's chair. Conveniently the occupants of the High King's box are screened from the masses.
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Date: 2008-06-17 01:45 am (UTC)-TOD
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Date: 2008-06-17 01:55 am (UTC)And squee more Champion! I can't wait to see the end!
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Date: 2008-06-17 02:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-17 03:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-17 03:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-06-17 05:03 am (UTC)*huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugs*
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Date: 2008-06-17 05:39 am (UTC)I think my smile is threatening to split my face in two at Arabella and Elise: they are ten kinds of awesome. I agree with what
They really make me proud to be a woman, and give me loads of incentive never to lie back and take whatever shit gets thrown at me.
.. Work, here I come!
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Date: 2008-06-17 05:53 am (UTC)And *giggles* Francis and Roderick! Those two obviously have so much fun together! XD
Why in Heaven's name is your hot water not fixed yet? It's been weeks - I'd have had quite a few choice words with those responsible for fixing it, by now - and they wouldn't have been the kind to repeat in other people's company, either!
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Date: 2008-06-17 06:48 am (UTC)I'm sorry things are crap for you right now. Hope they improve soon.
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Date: 2008-06-17 11:06 am (UTC)And, eee, Elise won her bout!