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El sighed as she was guided to sit up in the stands beside her parents, the shrill whistles and roaring cheers making her wince at the volume of her surroundings.
“Eloise, be sure to pay attention.” Her mother spoke just loud enough for her to hear. “One of these knights may very well become your personal guard.”
El frowned at the use of her full name. It sounded much too fancy for her liking, which she supposed was intentional.
“Yes, mother,” She said back, gazing out at the knights preparing to spar in the arena down below with feigned interest.
She didn't see the point of the spectacle of it all, since the winner would ultimately need to be decided by her parents and herself regardless of the outcome. The show was mostly for the people in attendance, sitting in the crowd with their entertainment snacks.
She sighed at the growl of her stomach, lunch wasn't scheduled until after the first set of matches, and she had no idea how long that would even take.
“To those in attendance, these matches shall aid in determining which of these noble knights is worthy of the honor of being named the Princess' personal guard!” An announcer called, and El clapped politely while cringing at the way the crowd got even louder. Curse her sensitive hearing.
Eleven knights stepped forward, standing in a straight line, dressed in full armor from head to toe. How anyone could fight like that, El had no idea.
“Here! I'm here!” Someone no older than El herself called out as they sprinted into the arena, panting slightly as she stood at the end of the line-up. He wore leather and chainmail armor instead of the polished steel of the others, which jingled quietly every time she moved.
The announcer eyed her curiously, as did El. “Are you in the right place, miss?” He asked.
The chainmail wearer just nodded with a grin. “‘Course I am. Check the lineup, I'm s’posed to be here.” They said, gesturing to a scroll in the man's hand meant to be read from when announcing opponents.
He glanced down then back at her, seeming confused but no longer questioning. He turned back to the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, let the game begin!”
El tried to pay attention to the fights as they happened, though she found her gaze time and time again falling to the fighter at the end of the line-up, with his messy brown hair and scarred hands and arms.
They were so pretty.
“Eloise, what do you think of that one?” Her father said, nodding towards the fight currently happening. She glanced at the tall blond man dodging blows from a slightly shorter man with blue hair and shrugged.
“They seem fine.” She said, not even bothering to hide her disinterest. If she pretended to find them interesting, her parents might get the wrong idea and be more tempted to decide her guard early. She didn't want to trust her life to someone unfitting, after all.
“Do you see any promising looking knights?” Her mother asked, leaning a bit closer to try to see where the princess was looking.
El tested her luck and vaguely gestured to the more underdressed knight, and her mother looked at her like she'd grown a second head.
“Eloise,” She spoke, like she were talking to someone much younger than her daughter was, “I understand we opened this event to the commoners, but we didn't think any would even make it past the entry fee. Surely you would root for someone with more fighting experience?”
“How'd we know they haven't any fighting experience just because she's not a knight?” El said, surprising herself even from how defensive the reply had sounded.
Her mother blinked, backing off silently to continue watching the current match. El felt a bit bad for snapping, but sometimes she had to be firm with her parents for them to realize they were overstepping.
She sighed and leaned forward, resting her arms on the banister of the shaded seating they sat in, resting her chin over her arms to watch the match with a bored expression. Did she really have to sit through another five today?
Round after round flew by, only occasionally gaining her interest until at last she saw the leather-clad fighter step forward, paired against someone with much heavier armor and a sharper sword in a clear attempt to get her out of the running quickly.
She frowned, hands clasped together and elbows propped against her knees as she held her closed hands against her mouth to hide her expression.
The handsome fighter glanced her way, and El thought her heart might stop altogether from the way it skipped a beat so suddenly. The fighter winked just before the announcer called the fighters.
“Bek Bekyamon, facing off against Ser Tubbo.”
El let their name register fully into her mind, repeating it over and over in her mind until the announcer finally called the match to start.
Dodging the swipe of her opponent's sword, Bek skid to a halt paces away, reaching into their tunic for a dagger as the crowd let out a gasp of surprise. They threw it, and a loud clang rang out as her opponent's arm flew back from the force of it, armor dented slightly with an almost unnoticeable puncture in it.
Wow, she was strong.
He then unsheathed her sword, rushing in to get a good two hits in as she pushed their opponent back until Tubbo was grunting under his breath from the effort. The fully-suited fighter swung his sword hard, nearly knocking Bek off balance from how quickly she had to dodge to avoid it. They hissed, pressing his hand to her cheek for a moment before wiping a bit of blood on his trousers from where she'd been cut.
“Oh my, how can someone fight with so little armor?” El's mother whispered.
“I've no idea. You certainly wouldn't find me on the battlefield without a helmet on my head.” Her father chuckled back.
El ignored their words, too enraptured by the fight going on in front of her, by Bek dropping to the ground to slide between Ser Tubbo's legs as a cloud of dirt and dust rose up to blind him and the audience of what was happening.
Tubbo let out a startled yelp, and before anyone could process what had happened, the two fighters emerged from the cloud, with Bek pressing a foot firmly into their opponent's chest as he held her dagger less than a breadth away from Tubbo's throat.
“Yield.” She commanded in a tone that made El blush ferociously.
Tubbo struggled to move before letting out a groan. “I yield!” He called, and Bek pressed down harder before stepping off and tucking away their dagger. They picked up their scratched, dull sword and sheathed it once more as the announcer came over, lifting her free hand up while the crowd roared with laughter.
For the first and only time that day, El cheered, too.
×××
By the time the next set of matches rolled around, El was feeling more excited than before. This time, only six contenders were lined up.
It wasn't difficult to spot her favorite.
“You certainly seem more energetic today.” Her mother teased. El shushed her with pink cheeks.
“We would like to take a moment before the sparring begins to congratulate our fighters for making it past the first round.” The announcer said, and was met by a round of applause. “We ask each of our noble knights to step up and let the people know why they should deserve the honor of protecting the crown princess.”
El blushed at the sudden attention as the crowd cheered for her, waving awkwardly before blushing deeper as she turned her head back to see Bek smirking her way.
Each knight stepped forward, standing stiffly with hands over their hearts as they all more or less recited parts of the Knight's Code, each using different lines to seem original though El knew it was the pay that held most of their interests.
Bek stepped forward, and El found herself sitting up a little straighter when the fighter dropped down to one knee. The crowd murmured around them, but he didn't look away from El at all, fist resting over her heart and head dipped slightly forward in a show of respect.
“My only desire to protect the princess comes from a place of admiration.” Bek spoke clearly and loudly for everyone to hear. “Princess Eloise is too kind, intelligent, and valuable to let any harm befall her. My only wish is to protect her, to use my sword on her behalf, to be someone worthy of the trust and respect it takes to entrust her life to me.”
The crowd began muttering again, but El could hardly hear over the sound of her own heartbeat in her ears. Bek winked at her, and El nearly forgot about everything in the world but the person in front of her.
“How sweet!” Her mother cooed, hands clasped in front of her.
“It's certainly a nice change of pace to see a fighter with genuine cause.” Her father murmured his agreement.
El grinned at their approval. If her parents liked Bek, that might sway things later on in the competition.
The announcer called the matches, and El felt confident that Bek could win against Ser Jimmy, even if he had many advantages against her.
Their fight was last, just like last time, though there were many less matches to sit through, which El was thankful for. Bek and Jimmy stood waiting for the fight to begin, and El could have sworn Bek had glanced her way just as the announcer gave the word.
Bek wasted no time pulling out his sword, mirroring Jimmy's grab for his own as she gained a half second advantage in swinging his way. Jimmy blocked with ease, grabbing the sword with both hands securely to push Bek off as they skid back to avoid being knocked off her feet.
She grinned, a look of bloodlust in her eyes that made El swallow hard before they rushed forward with their sword poised to aim just to the side of Ser Jimmy's head.
Jimmy moved to block her sword with his own, when Bek lifted their leg up, using one hand to hold his sword while using their other hand to pull a dagger from their boot as the crowd went shrill with excited cheers. She lifted it to lightly rest against Jimmy's jaw, the tip just barely poking into his skin as a single streak of blood flowed and Jimmy let out a fearful whimper.
“Give up?” Bek asked, moving the dagger away only slightly, almost taunting Jimmy with the reminder that he could easily move it again.
“Yes, yes!” Jimmy said, dropping his sword and holding his hands up in surrender. “I yield!”
The crowd erupted in a mix of cheers and boos, seemingly split between fans of Bek and Ser Jimmy.
El clapped along with the rest, freezing abruptly when Bek turned his head to look right at her with a grin.
“How was that, princess?” She asked over the noise, though only El seemed to hear their words.
El couldn't respond, her only acknowledgement that she'd even heard Bek's words being the flush against her cheeks.
×××
Once the three finalists had been decided - Bek, and two knights employed by her father, Ser Apo and Ser Martyn - El's parents decided to host a private ball celebrating them on coming so far.
Her father had already made an announcement that whoever didn't win the title of El's guard would be instantly promoted to commanding positions in the kingdom's order of knights, which meant nobility would be all over the fighters to get a chance to talk with future commanders.
El smoothed down her dress - much too puffy for her liking, but one her mother insisted on - as she stood lingering by the staircase that led up to the safety and quiet of her room, with her paintings and sketchbooks and everything she wanted but couldn't have at the moment. She made polite smalltalk with some of the dukes and duchesses visiting, though none of them knew how to talk like real people beyond repeating the same politics and finances her father's advisors rattled on about all day long.
“Excuse me.” El's heart skipped a beat at the voice nudging through the small crowd around her, hand extended towards her. “May I have a dance with the princess?” They asked, and El just barely restrained her eagerness as she placed her hand in Bek's.
Bek pulled suddenly, and El struggled in her heels to keep up as she was tugged away from the ballroom and out to the balcony nearby, where Bek closed the doors before anyone could see where they'd gone. “Finally.” They groaned, tugging at his tie. “How does anyone wear these things? Feel like I'm gonna suffocate!”
El chuckled, still a bit dazed as she stepped closer to loosen it at the neck. “You think these are stifling? At least you aren't wearing a corset.”
Bek giggled, a wide grin on her face. El noticed how close she'd gotten and blushed before taking a step back to put some space between them.
“Now that I'm not choking on high society,” Bek bowed slightly, “A dance?”
El smiled, charmed by Bek's theatrics as she felt her chest threaten to implode. She took Bek's hand in her own, stepping closer. She noticed his hesitancy, hand hovering but not touching, and guided their hand by the wrist to rest on El's waist while her own came to sit on Bek's shoulder.
“Do you…know how to dance?” El asked gently.
Bek flushed, tensing up as her eyes widened. “I…I'm sure I can figure it out.” He eventually shrugged.
El smiled fondly. “Would you like me to show you how it's done?” She suggested. Bek gave her a thankful look and El giggled, guiding them along as she hummed along to the song playing in the other room to help her keep the beat.
“One, two, three. One, two, three.” El muttered, watching the way Bek stared down at their feet to avoid stepping on hers with his own. “That's it, you're getting the hang of it!”
“Really? You think so?” Bek asked, and El wondered if she'd even survive Bek becoming her guard from the way her heart tended to skip beats so frequently around them.
“Yeah! Come on, try moving a bit more.” El encouraged, turning their back-and-forth steps to include side steps as she led Bek in slow, easy turns across the balcony to the tune of the song as she harmonized along.
She turned her head a bit to see Bek already staring at her, smiling shyly. “You sing beautifully.” Bek said, and the genuineness in their voice made El flush even deeper.
“Oh, thank you.” She giggled nervously. “I'm not really much of a singer, though.”
“Then what are you?” Bek asked.
Gay. Very gay. El thought. “An artist.” She answered instead.
“Do you paint?” Bek asked with a grin.
“Of course.” El answered with a big smile of her own, Bek's joy infectious. “I paint, sketch, I even know a bit of pottery.”
Bek giggled and pulled El just a bit closer, his hand moving to the middle of her back. “You're a deep and mysterious artist, are you?” They asked teasingly, as if knowing how fast El's heart was racing.
El boldly took some initiative, repositioning her hands to bring Bek down in a dip as the commoner squeaked in surprise.
“What would that make you, then? If I'm the deep and mysterious artist.” She asked, hoping she sounded more playful than flirtatious.
Bek stared up at her. “The knight who fell for her lady.” She muttered.
El opened her mouth to respond when she heard the balcony door clicking open, quickly pulling Bek back to their feet and stepping away a bit. She couldn't risk people seeing them so close yet, or else they might think the competition is rigged in Bek's favor.
Which it kind of was, since El got the final say, but the people didn't need to know that.
“Ya highness, your father would like if ya spent more time talkin’ to Ser Martyn and Ser Apo.” El's attendant said from the doorway.
“Of course, thank you, Shelby.” El nodded her head, smoothing her dress down out of nervous habit. “Thank you for the dance, Ser Bekyamon.” She said to Bek before turning quickly to leave.
El chatted with the other two finalists, her heart rate finally calming down the longer she was apart from Bek.
She wasn't sure how to feel about the way her chest ached to race like that again, all the time.
×××
The day had come at last, the final sparring match to determine which of the finalists would be selected as El's guard. Ultimately, she would get to make the decision regardless of outcome, since El needed someone whose skills she could trust in and depend on, but that didn't mean she wasn't still rooting for Bek quietly from the stands.
The announcer called the fighters into the arena, all three standing in equal paces from one another. One last fight, a free for all melee to see who would come out on top.
As soon as the announcer made the call, Bek was off. El watched with rapt attention as her champion dodged blows left and right, using their sword to deflect blows as fast as her opponents could swing at him. Eventually, though, the other two seemingly started to team up against Bek, only trading blows with her and not each other.
Martyn sweeped Bek's feet out from under them with a swift kick, and Bek fell back to the ground as El let out a gasp and nearly leapt from her chair. She caught Bek's gaze before Bek fumbled his hand around against the arena floor before taking a handful of dirt and throwing it towards her opponents’ eyes as Apo yelped in surprise and pain, rubbing its eyes while Martyn swung blindly and only managed to nick Bek's arm rather than their chest.
Bek hissed but backed away on the ground before jumping to his feet, holding her sword with his good arm as she continued to fight off Martyn one-handed. Apo stumbled to get back to the fight, but tripped over a rock with their vision still clouded by dust and mud and fell face first to the ground with a groan, waving his hand weakly in surrender.
“Just you and me, Bekyamon!” Martyn chuckled, a determined, cocky grin on his face as he aggressively swung again and again. He was clearly aiming to render them unable to attack back, attacking so fast that Bek could only defend.
“Com- Come on, Bekyamon!” El shouted over the crowd, surprising even herself as she quickly clamped a hand over her own mouth and blushed when both of her parents looked at her with knowing grins. Her favoritism had been clear to them from day one, after all.
Bek looked out to the stands and met El's eyes, her face at first panicked, then desperate, and finally hard set with determination. They grunted in pain as he took hold of the sword with both hands, easily pushing back with the strength of both arms so Martyn was the one stumbling back a step. They grabbed the duller side of Martyn's blade with her bare hand, pushing back still with great effort as she yelped in pain once he finally pushed back enough for the sword to spring free from Martyn's grip and end up clattering to the ground between them.
Bek moved their sword to Martyn's neck using her now bloody hand to grip onto his blonde hair until it resembled orange. “Give. Up.” They growled, and El momentarily thought she would faint hearing his words.
“Okay okay!” Martyn said, pushing Bek off with both hands and running a hand through his hair before flicking the blood away with a look of disgust. “You win!” He conceded with a huff.
Bek let out an audible sigh of relief as she let her sword clatter to the floor with Martyn's, clutching the shoulder of his injured arm through a pained grin.
“Behold our champion, Ser Bekyamon!” The announcer cheered, and Bek weakly raised her first as the crowd cheered for them.
Bek looked at El, beaming with pride, and El swooned. She grinned back, hating that she was expected to stay seated when all she wanted to do was rush over to hug her champion.
×××
El sat across from Bek, bandaging their arm while her new guard occasionally winced in discomfort.
“Sorry, I'm not very used to this.” El apologized, loosening the bandages again. “Are you sure you wouldn't prefer a professional treats you?”
Bek shook his head. “Why would I do that, when I have Princess Eloise sitting with me, dressing my wounds?” She flashed El a grin and a wink.
El blushed and looked back down just as she finished tying off the bandage circling Bek's muscular bicep. “There, should heal nicely.” She said, lightly pressing against the bandage to make sure it wouldn't immediately soak through.
“Thank you, your highness.” Bek said and sighed, reclining back slightly against the bench where they sat in the royal gardens. Her parents had taken to Apo and Martyn, so they could personally congratulate them on their new statuses, which left Bek awkwardly bleeding during the carriage ride until El could get some medical supplies for her wounds.
El hummed as she placed the bandage rolls back in their proper space before pausing to glance Bek over while the fighter squirmed under her sudden intense gaze. “Do you have any other wounds?” She asked curiously.
“Only scars, nothing new.” Bek said, shrugging her good shoulder.
El continued to stare before hesitantly reaching out to brush her thumb against the one on his cheek, from their first battle for her current position. “Would you tell me about them?” She asked softly. “Your scars.”
“Whatever you wish, princess.” Bek smiled.
“Please,” El giggled, rolling her eyes, “We're about to spend a lot of time together. Call me El.”
“El.” Bek repeated, and El felt like her heart may give out. “Just as lovely a name as its owner.” He winked.
El looked down at her lap bashfully. “What should I call you?” She asked. “It's certainly a mouthful to say Ser Bekyamon all the time.” She joked.
Bek chuckled. “Bek.” They said. “Call me Bek, El.”
El grinned and looked back at her. “Bek. I like it.”
“I like everything about you.” Bek said, and El flushed red. How did they always say such things with a straight face?
“That may change.” El deflected. “I have plenty of nasty habits.”
“Name one.” Bek challenged.
“I like to sing off-key while getting ready for bed.”
“Good thing I love the sound of your voice.”
“I have terrible bed hair.”
“I know plenty of ways to style hair as pretty as yours.”
“My breath smells terrible in the morning.”
“I can hold my breath for four minutes!”
El laughed, and Bek joined in.
“Surely there must be something you dislike about me.” El teased.
“Well, there's just one thing I could think of.” Bek said, and El felt her stomach drop at his words.
“Oh? What's that?” She asked, failing to sound less interested and dreadful than she felt.
Bek leaned in slightly, and El panicked for a moment before remembering they were truly and entirely alone for once. “I dislike that I'm your guard.”
“You fought this hard for it, yet you dislike your job?” El giggled in amusement. “What position would you rather have, if this is how hard you tried for a job you don't like?”
Bek hummed as if thinking it over before leaning in, El's eyes widening as she realized what was happening all too late before Bek's lips were on hers and she was being kissed for the first time in her life. El kissed back, closing her eyes as she let one hand lightly come to rest on Bek's good shoulder while Bek's hands cradled her face tenderly.
Bek pulled away, leaving El dazed and wanting more. “Royal consort to the princess.” They whispered with a mischievous grin.
“Huh?” El said, unable to think of or focus on anything but Bek's chapped, full lips.
“My dream job.” Bek kissed her again quickly. “To be your consort.”
“You mean it?” El asked, searching her eyes for a lie she already knew didn't exist.
“More than anything.” Bek muttered before kissing her again with more energy and desire than before as El was quickly swept up in the moment and the feeling of Bek's hands slowly tangling into her hair.
“I,” El panted, slightly out of breath, “I think I can make that happen.”
“Can you, now?” Bek grinned.
El grinned back. “I'll certainly try.” She answered earnestly.
Bek laughed happily and kissed El again and again, grinning between each one.
A consort. A partner. A lover. Yeah, El liked the sound of that no matter how it was phrased.