Archive of Our Own

He could feel the sweat and dirt running down his neck, could taste a trickle of blood on his lips coming from somewhere he wasn’t certain of, and thanked the Gods that his helm was on. He did not think it appropriate to appear before the Lords and Ladies of the realm in such a state.

To stand before her in such a state.

He held his posture as best he could while his horse brought him closer to their stand, trying to ignore the agonising pain in his shoulder. That last joust had hit him dead on, and despite having unseated the insolent pup who struck him, it had been hard enough to cause damage. He hadn’t yet put his hand up to his armour for fear of what he would find. Instead he kept his eyes on her. The Lady Chastity Claire, though she detested being referred to as such. She preferred simply Claire. In his heart of hearts, he called her CC. It suited her well; an unconventional name for an unconventional lady.

He’d known her what felt like all his life, with her spending a majority of time visiting his own lord’s household where he served as steward. Lord Sheffield’s eldest Maxwell was only a few years younger than he was, and both of them were only a few years older than CC. She adored Maxwell, but had taken such an immediate dislike to him that he found it funny. It was always so easy to anger her, and to do so in a way that made him look innocent. Over the years they had both gotten better at their game, and at some point he found himself wishing he could play it every day for the rest of his life. He craved her presence, even if her attitude never changed. In private of course; he could never tell her, or anyone for that matter. Nobility did not fall for the likes of him. And he’d been content with that. Right up until Maxwell had entered him into a tourney as a joke. What he claimed was a joke at least; he had a sneaking suspicion that there had been a bet of some kind going on behind the scenes, but he could never prove it. He’d been armed and thrown into a ring filled with drunken amateurs, all of whom outclassed him in both experience and pure muscle. And yet at the end of the day, he’d been the victor. It had felt incredible, finding something he was so innately talented in. He’d been taken to the stands where the nobility sat, where the only person cheering louder for him than Maxwell was CC. It had caught him completely off guard, seeing her there practically swooning over him, and he realised he would rather die than give up doing this. Thankfully Maxwell seemed to be on the same page, and had a full set of armour with weapons and a sigil commissioned for him. All under a pseudonym of course. He’d not originally needed one due to the type of match he’d been thrown into, but repeated competitions required a name. He’d started as The Veiled Knight, known for never removing his helm. It evolved quickly into the Veiled Champion, after proving himself unbeatable, which was quickly shortened to simply The Champion. His sigil was that of a fox, his colours burgundy and gold, and while he was skilled with a sword he tended to favour a hammer in one-on-one combat. He liked the weight of it, and the fact that there were few others who could lift it. Apparently carrying Maxwell back to his room after a drunken night for so many years had given him a strength most others would kill for.

Oh how CC idolised him, and would spend all of her visits begging Maxwell to set up an introduction, despite his many refusals to do so. It was funny, he thought, how she unknowingly praised him in one breath and ridiculed him in another. Her visits became more and more frequent; in part because of the Champion, and in part due to her own personal circumstances. Maxwell had informed him that her elder brother had declined to stand in line to his father’s titles and lands, choosing instead to be a scholar. Rumour had it that the arrangement suited everyone; his tastes were not that of one who was required to produce an heir, and he appeared to be incredibly talented in his field of study. And so it fell to his siblings to take his place as the heir. He had been the only son, meaning the burden fell upon the next eldest.

His lady love.

He often favoured her if she happened to be in the stand for a match, making sure he slowed his horse as he passed her and giving her a nod. He’s been particularly bold for this match, scaling the wall to hand her a white rose, promising that he was her servant from now until always. He wondered if there was a part of him that wanted to get caught, for her to realise who he was, but he knew deep down that the second she did it was all over.

It took Maxwell grabbing his horse’s reins and gently tugging him away from the crowds for him to realise that he had to move.

“Do you know how much money you just made me?” he grinned.

“Like you need any more money,” Niles huffed slightly as he slipped down, patting the large animal gently on the back.

“Oh don’t be such a baby. You know any and all winnings go towards funding you. Weapons and horses and armour isn’t cheap, you know.”

“I guess.”

They finally reached his tent and after closing the flaps firmly behind them, Maxwell set to work helping his friend remove his armour. It had been designed with three things in mind; one was safety, in that it had to be sturdy and hard-wearing; two was flexibility, necessary for on foot one-on-one combat; the third was anonymity. He had to be unrecognisable as himself, and there had to be no risk of anything being knocked off and accidentally revealing his true identity. He wasn’t technically a knight after all. Maxwell had knighted him purely because he had worried himself sick at competing illegally, but there had been no witnesses. His helmet was secured to the back of his armour and the chainmail underneath, and Niles sat to save Maxwell reaching up to mess with it.

“Don’t pretend that you’re not loving the attention.”

“I don’t love the attention.”

“No?”

“No. If I did, I would participate under my own name.”

“Really? Not even the attention of Lady CC?” he smirked.

Niles felt his face grow hot with embarrassment. “Don’t call her that.”

“Why not? You do.”

“That’s… that’s different. I don’t say it out loud.”

“You don’t say it to her face. I can hear you when you mutter it under your breath.”

“Maxwell,” he grumbled. “I’m tired, and I’m filthy, and by your own admission I just made you a lot of money. Have mercy.”

“Alright, alright,” he sighed, finally managing to pull the helmet off. Niles took in a deep breath, finally free for the first time in hours. “Although you should probably know you’re not very subtle, climbing the stands like a damn fool, whispering her sweet nothings like no–one else exists.”

Niles went red, but said nothing. No-one else does exist. Not to me. Not in those moments.

“She’s rather fond of you too.”

“She is most certainly not!” Niles snapped. “She hates me. She’s told me so - to my face - on more occasions than I can count.”

“I don’t mean you you. I mean…” he gestured up and down, “this. She’s your greatest admirer, and has asked me many times if I can arrange an introduction.”

“You can’t-”

“I know, I know,” Maxwell held up a hand, cutting off his friend’s panic. “It’s not something I would do without consulting you first anyway.”

“Well…good.” He slumped down on the stool, head between his knees. It took him a while to truly come back to himself; the man he was in the armour needed to be someone he couldn’t show in his daily life.

“You know she’s coming to stay with us next week.”

His head snapped up. “And you’re only telling me this now?” As much as he wanted to spend as much time in her company as possible, he often had to hide himself away after competing, lest she see his injuries.

“You had enough going on with the tournament to be worrying about it,” Maxwell shrugged.

He groaned, putting his head back down in his hands. “How long is she staying for?”

“A month, I’d wager. Her father’s trying to get her married off and she’s not for it.”

“I’m surprised they haven’t suggested you,” he muttered bitterly. The circumstances of their birth was not his friend's fault, but he couldn’t help feeling envious of him at times like this.

“I’ve made it quite clear to my father that I will have no-one but Francine. And if he forces the issue then I’ll be left with no choice but to become a Eunuch."

“That’s…extreme,” Niles winced. Francine was the youngest daughter of the family that owned the inn in town. He remembered the first time Maxwell met her; he’d returned so giddy he’d thought he was drunk. Just love drunk apparently. He used every excuse he could to visit her. His parents had scoffed at the idea of the potential match, but clearly he’d been firm in his decision.

“Father is well aware that he can’t leave any of the lands and titles to my brother; he’s too unreliable and we’re already trying to get him shipped off somewhere he can do as he likes without causing trouble. And my sister has married into another House so that’s no use.”

“You’re playing with fire.”

“You’d rather I marry CC and see Fran on the side, while you and CC see each other?” Niles considered it for a moment, before Maxwell interrupted. "Don’t be absurd. You’d give yourself away within minutes. You only get away with your pining for her now because your face is covered.”

Niles ran a hand through his hair. He was right of course. But that didn’t make it any easier.

As promised, CC arrived two days after the conclusion of the tournament, and by that point most of the visible bruising Niles had sustained had healed. Not that she would have noticed of course; she never looked at him more than she had to.

“Your father’s still determined that you’re to marry this creep?” Maxwell asked as he escorted CC to her rooms, assisting Niles with the trunk.

“He’s desperate,” she sighed. “I’ve no idea why. He’s a creepy little prick. Seems to think the sun shines out his own asshole.”

“I don’t know why you think coming here will deter your father from talking to you.”

“He’s always left me alone when I come here. Why break the habit of a lifetime?”

Maxwell gave her a look. “You know why. You know exactly why he’s insisting on this. Why you’re not trying to find an alternative that you do approve of is what I don’t understand.”

She shot him a glare. “Because you won’t set up an introduction.”

“And what happens if the knight of your dreams turns out to be someone you detest, huh?”

“Not possible.”

“Well on your head be it. But I can’t promise you anything. No-one knows who he is.”

“Except you.”

“Except me. Because I’m special.”

“You’re an insufferable prick,” she snapped, snatching the end of her trunk from him and Niles, dragged it into the room behind her, and slammed the door.

Maxwell shot a glance at Niles, who was still staring longingly at the door. “Really?” he murmured.

“Oh shut up,” Niles huffed, stomping away down the corridor as Maxwell watched him, chuckling to himself.

His friend did have a point though. He’d ducked his head when his knightly alter ego was mentioned, and when she’d said that it wasn’t possible that it could be someone she hated he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Did she mean that she would accept him as he was if she knew, even if currently detested him? Or did she mean that she didn’t believe that it could even be someone like him beneath the helm?

He kept to himself for the first week of his visit, making sure that there were no suspicious marks on injuries left on him before he drew her attention. She finally noticed him during breakfast on the eighth day.

“Where have you been hiding, Roach?”

He gave her a look. The nickname had evolved from Rochester, the lower class town his family hailed from, to Roach. She found it much funnier than he did. “Busy avoiding you as always, My Lady.”

“Busy doing nothing,” she snorted, turning to Maxwell. “Honestly, I don’t know why you keep him around.”

“And I don’t know why you two insist on bothering each other.”

“It’s not my fault he’s a disgusting little rat bag,” she glared at Niles, who glared right back.

“And yet you still choose to come here over everyone else you know,” Maxwell sighed

“Bold of you to assume she knows other people, Sir.”

Before CC had a chance to retort, one of the house staff entered. “My Lady, your father has arrived.”

She dropped her fork, and it clattered against the plate.”What do you mean he’s here? As in he’s on his way?”

“As in he is in the main hall with Lord Sheffield as we speak.”

“Is he… alone?” she winced, and Niles knew what she was really asking was if her so-called suitor had joined him.

The servant shifted uncomfortably, as though he’d been instructed not to confirm or deny. “He… brought company, My Lady.”

She shot up from the table. “Well it was nice seeing you, Maxwell, I must be go-”

“He’s requested your presence.”

She closed her eyes and took in a deep, steadying breath. “Of course he has,” she muttered to herself, and sighed. “Tell him that Maxwell and I will join him presently.”

The man nodded, and left without another word.

“He’s done this on purpose,” she scowled, picking her fork back up as she sat back down and stabbing and the remains of her meal. “He specifically didn’t send word ahead so that I wouldn’t have time to leave.”

“You think the company he brought is you-know-who?” Maxwell asked, casting a quick glance at Niles.

“Hard to see how it could be anyone else. Not that I would recognise him.”

“Wait, I thought you said he was an arrogant prick. You’ve never even met him?”

She gave him a look. “I don’t have to have met him to know he’s the worst.” She stood, staring at the two men when they didn’t move. “You’re both coming with me,” she ordered.

Niles glanced at Maxwell, who simply shrugged and stood to follow her.

The three of them left the dining hall and headed down to the main reception hall, where Maxwell’s and CC’s fathers were standing. Niles realised that he’d never actually seen CC’s father before. She’d always arrived with either an escort or on her own. The man stood with a straight back, his outfit made of the finest material he’d ever seen in his house colours of green and gold. Behind the two men stood a young man of a similar age to Maxwell. His hair was black, and so shiny that it appeared white when the light hit it, as though it were consistently wet. He had his arms crossed and was watching them enter the room with such an air of smugness that Niles immediately decided that CC had been right; this was the worst person he’d ever met.

“Father,” CC greeted coldly, stopping in front of him, yet still out of reach.

“You’re entirely predictable, my dear,” he said gently. “But I’m afraid this isn’t something I can allow you to hide from forever. We must discuss the arrangements for you to wed Lord Edmund.”

“I’ve already told you; I’m not marrying him.”

Edmund snorted a laugh. “You don’t get a say in this.”

Niles was shocked at the level of disrespect the lordling displayed in front of his elders and the woman who was supposed to be his bride. He could feel his heart racing, and the urge to stand between her and this supposed suitor almost overwhelmed him.

“I’m afraid he’s right,” her father said, and even from a distance he could hear the pain in the older man’s words. Clearly no-one was happy with the arrangement. “You are the heir, and part of your duty is to make a suitable match.”

“Unless you intend on dragging me to the altar, bound and gagged, then this isn’t happening.”

Her father sighed deeply. “Chastity please don’t make this any harder than it needs to be.”

“I’m not the one making a fuss,” she shrugged. “All you have to do is listen to me and agree.”

Niles ducked his head to hide his smirk. His lady had a smart mouth, and as much as he enjoyed their own verbal sparring it was much more entertaining to hear her use it against a lesser opponent. How he wished her father would just agree and remove the smug little bastard from his home.

“There are no other options. This was arranged well before you even came of age. There are agreements in place!”

So she had been betrothed, Niles realised. It made sense in hindsight; it had just never crossed his mind given that neither she nor Maxwell had ever mentioned it. Had she known this all along, or had this been sprung on her recently? Had she voiced her opposition to the match since she learned of its existence, or is this a recent development after years of indifference? He wished he could do something - anything - that would save her from this.

Maxwell leaned over slightly. “There, uh… there is one option.”

Niles’ eyes snapped to his master. Was there an option? He had racked his brain and come up with nothing so far but-

“You could dispute the match in trial by combat.”

He felt his jaw drop. Of all the asinine ideas, this one had to be up there. Trial by combat was a rarity even in the most gruesome of crimes, but to use it as a means to end an arranged marriage?

The lording chuckled, slowly evolving into a full on laugh. “Why not? This way you have no room to complain when I win.”

“Who says you’ll win?” she snapped, and Niles ducked his head once more to hide a smile.

“Because I am willing to grant the Champion anything he desires to fight on my behalf,” Edmund sneered, and Niles felt his blood boil at the disrespect he showed her. “Good luck finding a man to best him. I’ll return here in a week, and when the dust settles we can hold the ceremony the same day.” Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and left.

CC turned to her friend. “You’re supposed to know the Champion. Is there any chance that Edmund will be able to recruit him?”

“I highly doubt it,” he assured her. “At the very least I guarantee that he has no interest in seeing that man win.”

“You think he’d fight on my behalf?”

“Let me speak to him, but I’m certain he will.”

“Good. Because if not I’ll have to hire someone to kill that prick. And you know how much I detest mercenaries.”

“Chastity,” he father warned. “These are things that should not be said in public.”

“I’m only speaking the truth.”

“I didn’t say I disagreed; only that you shouldn’t voice it.”

Maxwell waited until both he and Niles had left the room and were walking alone down the hallway before placing a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “You will do it, right? Act as her champion?”

Niles snorted. “Was there ever any doubt?”

“Not really,” Maxwell grinned. “But I was a little worried that the offer of anything you desire would be tempting.”

“The thing I desire is not his to offer,” he murmured.

“Then this is an excellent opportunity to show yourself worthy of that-which-you-desire.”

Niles turned to him and scowled. “You are an ass, you know that?”

Maxwell chuckled. “I’m not the idiot that went and fell in love with the heir to the throne.”

Niles stopped in his tracks, turning to look at him. He felt as though his heart had stopped. “What?”

Maxwell looked at his friend for a long moment. “Please tell me you knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Niles,” he put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “The Lady Chastity Claire? CC? Her father’s the king. What, did you think just any noble could walk into my fathers house? Did you think people just let CC get away with the things she does because they like her?”

He felt the blood drain from his face. “But… he doesn’t… what?”

Maxwell sighed. “He doesn’t venture out a lot; not surprising since he’s busy running the place. CC spent so much time with us as a child because our fathers have been friends for years. They trained together. But when he took the throne, he had to focus on her brother, the crown prince. Then when he went off to do his own thing… Why do you think this whole marriage thing is such a huge deal? Sure, nobles are betrothed every day, but few would insist on it when the reluctance is this obvious.”

“I just… I thought…” He couldn’t fathom it. The highest title he’d ever heard anyone give her was ‘My Lady’. No-one had ever referred to her as a princess. Looking back, he supposed things made a bit more sense. She got away with far more than even most nobility he’d met, and he realised that all of her luggage was emblazoned with a Peacock, the symbol of the royal house.

“You just thought she was a catch?”

Niles scowled. “You don’t have to say it like that.”

“Alright, I’m sorry. But you know what I mean. She’s not exactly to many of the lord’s tastes. Beautiful? Undoubtedly. Stubborn as a mule? For sure.”

The young Lord did not take the news that his intended champion was to be his opponent well. He had apparently sent a letter, arriving on the day of the match, with some colourful language and graphic descriptions of what he planned to do to him, but Maxwell burned it before he could read it.

“I take it he’s not best pleased?” Niles asked when Maxwell informed him.

“That would be putting it mildly,” he grimaced. “And from what I can tell he’s planning on representing himself.”

“Should I be worried?”

Maxwell swallowed hard. “You shouldn’t be lax about it.”

He groaned. “That damn woman is always causing trouble for me,” he muttered.

“You love it really,” Maxwell chuckled.

“I know you mean that in a teasing way, but on this occasion I really rather she hadn’t.”

“It’s not her fault this time though. If anything it’s mine.”

Niles looked up, eyebrow raised. “Yours?”

“Are you forgetting that I’m the one who suggested the trial in the first place?”

Niles sighed. “It’s no-one’s fault; not really. If I hadn’t agreed, we wouldn’t be here. If you hadn’t suggested it, we wouldn’t be here. If her brother had remained heir, we wouldn’t be here. And if she hadn’t been born the daughter of a king, we wouldn’t be here. Who’s really to blame at the end of the day?”

Maxwell frowned deeply, feeling the pain in his friend's voice. “Niles,” he said softly, crouching down next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. “I wish there were an easier way. For CC to get out of this, and for you to show her you care. All I can do is support you in this.”

Niles reached up and patted the hand. “If I die, tell her I’m going to haunt her.”

“If you die I’m killing myself just so I can beat your sorry arse for losing on purpose, because that’s the only way that’ll happen.”

He chuckled. “I believe you.”

“Good. Now, in terms of what you’ll be wearing-“

“The armour I have does well enough.”

Maxwell gave him a look. “I went to the trouble of having this made; the least you can do is pretend to be grateful.”

“Fine. What’s special about this new set?”

He perked up. “I’m glad you asked. For one, new helmet.” He tossed a hunk of metal over to Niles, who caught it easily. The new helm was dark silver - almost black - with gold accents. It had been crafted into the shape of a fox, complete with two small ears, while still providing him with full coverage. “I’m afraid that this one doesn’t have any kind of visor, so once it’s on, it’s on. But the fox has been yours since you started this whole thing.”

“It’s very impressive.”

“It’s not the only thing.” Maxwell pulled a sheet off the lump in the corner, revealing a mannequin decked in new armour. The breastplate and all metal matched the dark of the helmet. Right in the centre was a gold crest. Niles stepped closer to get a better look and found that it was in the shape of a fox and a peacock, crossed in almost a heart formation. “I thought it appropriate,” Maxwell said. “Given that you’re representing the crown essentially. Your sigil and hers.”

He nodded, his fingers tracing the lines.

“We didn’t have a lot of time so it’s not as detailed as-“

“It’s perfect,” he murmured.

“I’m glad you like. I had them use more leather and thick cloth over the metal to allow you to move more freely.” The tunic underneath was indeed made of a heavy cotton material, coloured green to match the royal house over his usual burgundy.

“This… this is too much.”

“It’s the very least I can do.”

“I mean the colours. The sigil. It’s all beautiful but… it’s not… Maxwell, there’s no guarantee that she’ll even appreciate this when she finds out.”

“Then good thing this is coming out of my pocket and not yours.”

He helped Niles get everything in place and was relieved to see that everything fit perfectly. He’d had to go by the measurements they already had and while he hadn’t imagined it had changed too drastically, any significant weight gain would affect the level of protection. Or any significant weight loss for that matter; he’d been worried at how little his friend had been eating in the run up to this match.

They were both quiet for a long time, until Niles picked up the helmet, turning it over in his hands. “Max.”

Maxwell’s eyes widened. He’d never heard Niles refer to him by the nickname before. “Yes?”

“Tell me. How good is he really?”

For a moment, he considered lying, but knew that doing so would be no kindness. “He’s good. He’s very good. He’s won his own share of tournaments. Likes to show off for a crowd.”

“Weapon of choice?”

“Mace. Bloody great big thing, too. Apparently even he struggles to manage it at times, but because of the weight of it, it’ll do a serious amount of damage if it even grazes you. I’m assuming you’re going with your usual hamm-“

“No.” Niles cut him off. The hammer was the stronger and heavier weapon of everything available, and usually Niles' weapon of choice, but he knew that wasn’t what he needed here. “It has to be the sword.”

“Niles, be serious.” It had been the reason for the extra manoeuvrability. He’d assumed the weapon when making his requests, feeling that what he would lose in protection he’d gain from being able to make a cleaner and easier swing.

“Trust me.”

“Fine,” Maxwell sighed, taking the helmet from him. “But you better know what you’re doing.” He moved to help Niles with it. It was easier than it looked to put on someone else; Niles held the front half in place while Maxwell attached and clipped in the back. He stood back to admire the entire ensemble. “Ready?”

“Yes, but not like I have a choice.”

Just as he finished, the tent doors parted, and CC entered.

“Get out Maxwell,” she ordered.

“But my Lady-“

“Now.”

He glanced helplessly at Niles, whose eyes he could see were panicked, and left to take his seat in the stands.

Niles tried not to let his nervousness show in front of her, praying that he wasn’t shaking enough to rattle the armour as she approached him. She stopped right in front of him, and moved her hands up to gently take his helmet, but he caught them before she could.

She looked at him for a long moment. “You would deny me a glimpse of my champion?” she asked quietly.

I would deny you nothing, my love, he wanted to answer. But the reality of the situation stopped him. He struggled to give her an answer, his mouth opening and closing silently as no words came to him, before finally lowering her hands and bowing his head slightly. “Forgive me,” he murmured, lowering his voice as he always did when he spoke to her as the champion.

Her eyes drifted down, landing on the gold sigil on his chest. Still holding his hands, she reached out a finger to touch it. “Then I expect you to remove your helm once you win.”

He nodded. At least she’ll have been able to cheer for her imagined saviour without the shame of knowing it was me.

“May I ask…” she began, hesitating before shaking her head slightly and starting again. “I wanted to thank you. For choosing to fight on my behalf and not Lord Edmund’s.”

“It’s an honour, my lady.”

“But I must ask, why? Did he not offer you enough? Did my father offer you something greater? What are you getting out of this, because no-one will tell me.”

“I… I asked for nothing.”

“So you just chose to fight for me? Despite Edmund promising the world?”

He thought about his answer carefully, still holding onto her hands and letting the feeling ground him. “Should I win,” he asked slowly, “then I understand that your engagement to the Young Lord will be dissolved.” He ran his thumb over her fingers, and she gripped his own tighter. “Would that make you happy?” She nodded and he couldn’t help but smile, even though she couldn’t see it. “Then I fight for your happiness, my Lady. Nothing more.”

He wasn’t sure what he had expected to see when he walked out onto the field, but Lord Edmund in dazzling white armour, holding a mace almost as tall as he was, wasn’t it. He had to squint at the sight of him, the breastplate so highly polished that it reflected the light right into his eyes. Part of him wondered if that was on purpose, but he knew that the white was to make him seem like the hero of the story, even to those who knew otherwise. He glanced up to the stands searching for CC and Maxwell, and found them in the front row, sat next to their fathers and another man who seemed to be some sort of giant, with dark hair and a darker expression. He wondered if this was his opponent’s father.

“I’m surprised you still showed up,” Edmund smirked, drawing his attention back down to him. “I told you what would happen if you did. You can’t say you weren’t warned.”

He said nothing, simply drawing his own sword and taking his stance. The lack of engagement seemed to enrage the boy, and he bared his teeth as he prepared. The second the match began he lunged forward with more speed than Niles had expected, and he barely managed to dodge to the side to avoid a collision. He was relieved that he’d followed his instincts and chosen the sword; the hammer would have probably taken his opponent out in a single blow, but he wouldn’t have been able to move with enough speed.

They carried on like that for what felt to Niles like hours; dodging and exchanging blows where they could. They seemed to be evenly matched, but where Niles was becoming more steady as time went on, Edmund was becoming more wild. One swing grazed his side just barely, but he felt the sharp sting of the spike cutting through his armour like butter. One swing in particular caught his helmet and made a sound like a thunder clap, causing the crowd to gasp loudly as his body was thrown with the force of it.

Up in the crowds, CC grabbed Maxwell’s arm.

“He’s fine. It sounds worse than it is,” he assured her, praying to whoever was listening that he would not be made a liar.

“He’s never taken a hit like that before.”

“He’s never fought a mace wielder before. For all his pomposity, Lord Edmund is talented.”

“More so than my Champion?”

“I don’t believe so, but we shall see.”

She nodded, before glancing around. “Where’s Niles? I know he doesn’t usually come to these things but this is important to me. I thought he’d…” she trailed off, looking down.

“You thought what?”

“Forget it,” she muttered. “He’s just proven me right. He is a coward.”

Maxwell bit his tongue to keep from speaking. How he wished he could tell her the truth, that Niles was down there fighting for his life and her freedom. “He has his reasons. And he’s not a coward.”

“Hmph.”

He looked away from the field for a moment to glance at her. “Do you… care if he’s here?”

“No,” she snapped, a little too quickly. He began to think back on all their interactions as a trio over the years, and realised that he’d spent so much time studying Niles that he hadn’t stopped to watch CC. It seems that perhaps the feelings his friend harboured were not as one sided as he’d originally thought.

Back on the field, it took a long few moments for Niles to catch his bearings, but once he did he was relieved to find that he was still intact. The helmet had absorbed the impact, but the blow had caved it in and split the metal. His ears were ringing and he could feel it digging into his temple, making it harder to breathe, harder to think. He attempted to get in a few more blows, but found that he was off balance. Deciding that there was nothing else for it, he stabbed his sword straight down into the soft dirt with enough force to keep it upright, gripped his helm by the rim, one right on either side of the split, and used all the strength he had to rip it in half. The moment the thing was off of him, he took in a deep breath, feeling like he could breathe for the first time in forever. He tossed the hunk of metal aside, took back his sword, and readied himself.

“The steward,” Edmund growled, and it finally hit Niles that people could now see his face. He shot a quick glance to the side and could see CC watching him, her hands over her mouth. Her champion disgusts her. But better she know the truth of it and be free of this rat than the alternative.

“You expected someone else?”

“Didn’t think you had it in you,” he sneered. “Following behind little Maxwell like a shadow.”

“I’m a man of many surprises.”

He retook his stance, before lunging forward. With the removal of his helmet and revelation of his identity, he had nothing left to lose except his life, and he didn’t place much value in that over his lady’s happiness. Better to die fighting for her than to lose and live to face her.

He managed to hold off his opponent for a few strikes, before the lord slipped beneath his arm, rising behind him and swinging the mace directly into his back and knocking him down.

Niles hit the dirt so hard his chest hurt, before he felt a foot kick him over onto his back and he found himself looking up at his enemy.

“Yield.”

“I would rather die,” he spat, and meant every word of it.

“So be it,” he shrugged and raised his mace high. Niles had been counting on him doing so; the move was unnecessary to deliver a lethal blow, but it did look far more impressive to a crowd. What he failed to consider was that doing so was not a swift action; the mace was far heavier than someone of his strength should carry, and while that meant that each blow dealt heavy damage it also meant that his movements were slowed significantly. On raising the weapon, he left himself wide open.

Niles moved swiftly, pulling his right leg back and kicking it forward with as much force as he was able to, right into his opponent’s stomach. The hit knocked the wind out of Edmund, causing him to drop the mace and fall to his knees, gasping for air. Niles rolled to the right, out of his opponent's way, and was instantly on his feet. He put his foot on the other man’s back and pressed hard, forcing Edmund flat on the ground, before picking up the mace and resting it on his back. It’s not nearly as heavy as he made it look, he thought to himself.

“Yield,” he ordered, leaning hard enough on the weapon for him to feel it but not hard enough to cause damage.

“Fuck you,” Edmund screamed, thrashing wildly on the ground to no avail.

“You’ve lost, Lordling,” he murmured just loud enough for the two of them to hear. “Leave her be.”

“Fuck. You.” he repeated, more venom in his voice than Niles had ever heard from another human being.

Niles swallowed hard, and looked up into the crowd, searching for her. “My lady,” he called when their eyes met, “I have no desire to kill him, however I am serving as your champion. What would you have me do?”

She looked at him for a long moment, before turning to Maxwell. “What choice does he have?”

“He will do as you ask him to. You can have him finish this with a clean blow, or have the marshal call it.” He paused for a moment. “Do you want him dead and risk potential retaliation from his father and family, or do you want him to live with the humiliation and risk him coming back?”

“I’d rather him dead, but I don’t think it will make me sleep any easier.”

“Then ask for the marshal to call it.”

She leaned over the edge of the stand. “Marshal.” The man looked up. “Are you willing to declare my champion the victor?”

He looked back over at the two men; one still thrashing on the ground despite clearly exhausting himself, the other standing there calmly with his foot on his opponent's back. “I see no reason to prolong this. Match declared for the Lady’s champion.”

Niles felt his entire body unclench, and he stumbled backwards slightly. He was only vaguely aware of the cheering of the crowd, his vision blurring at the edges, before he felt a pair of hands catch his chest and hold him steady. “I’ve got you,” he could hear Maxwell murmur. He must have leapt straight down from the stands to get to him so fast.

“I won?”

“You did,” he smiled, patting his chest as he led him over to the stands.

“Niles.” He could hear someone calling him, a voice dripping in both terror and relief. He felt Maxwell let him go as his face was caught by another pair of hands, soft as velvet, and he closed his eyes. “Don’t you dare die on me now.”

“Not dying,” he murmured. “Just tired.” He sank to his knees, the weight of everything leaving him with no energy to stand, and the hands and voice went with him.

“I need you to open your eyes for me.”

He did so and found himself staring straight at his beloved. She looked so worried, and he was suddenly very aware of how much dirt and sweat and possibly blood he was covered in. “My lady,” he murmured. “Forgive me for the mess-”

“Shut up,” she cut him off, pulling him close and pressing his forehead to hers. “You… fucking idiot. Just shut up.”

He revelled in the feeling of having her close, as close as he’d ever been and as close as he was likely to get. He wasn’t even listening to the sounds of the crowd around them, although he did notice a swell in the sound, right before he heard a clash of weapon against armour right behind them. He instinctively pulled her close, covering her from any potential danger, before looking round to see Maxwell with his own weapon - a long handled Battle Axe - drawn, standing between them and a flushed and furious Edmund who was holding his chest. He realised that Maxwell must have caught the sword - Niles weapon that he must have retrieved - with the tip of the axe, forcing him back before he could strike.

“Fuck you and your little pet, Sheffield. She is mine.”

“Enough, Blackwood.” Maxwell didn’t often refer to others by their family name, but Edmund had started it. “You lost. You agreed to this, and you lost. All you’re doing now is shaming yourself.”

Edmund roared, and moved to attack once but, but was caught when a large hand clapped down on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks. Everyone but him looked to the intruder, but the young lord didn’t need to. He could tell by the weight of the hand that held him that it was his father. As Niles suspected, the man was a good foot taller than his son, broad shouldered and had an air of menace about him.

“Enough, boy,” the older Lord snarled. “You are a fool and a disgrace. I had thought better of you than to attack a man with his back turned and the battle over.”

“Father-”

“Silence.” He roughly pulled Edmund away, the man looking no more than a boy under his lord father’s scrutiny, before turning to address the nobility watching them. “I can only apologise for my son’s behaviour. I assure you he will be dealt with.” He then turned to look directly at CC’s father. “My King, please consider the arrangement nullified. I would not insult you by insisting on its continuance or a renegotiation after such a display.” He gave a short bow, and turned to leave, dragging his son behind him.

Niles finally pulled back to look at her, brushing the hair off her face as best he could. She was now covered in whatever his armour was caked in, and he winced slightly. “CC,” he murmured, and she looked up at him with her eyes wide. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head. “Are you?”

“Nothing that won’t heal in a week or two,” he smiled. “I never intended to lie to you. I-”

She put her hand to his lips to stop him. “Enough.”

He nodded. “I would have died for you,” he whispered

“And you are a fool for that.” Her bottom lip trembled. “What possessed you to do this?”

“You deserve so much better than a self-important rat like him. You deserve someone who worships the ground you walk on, who looks at you like you hung the stars, who-”

“Someone who would risk his life and reputation for nothing more than my happiness?”

He looked at her for a moment, then let out a breath, chuckling as he did so. “Someone like that,” he smiled.

He sensed someone kneeling beside him, and turned to see Maxwell. “We need to get you looked at. You’re bleeding from somewhere.”

He looked down and saw a patch of blood on CC’s dress from where he’s covered her, and saw that it was leaking from his breastplate. “Your dress-”

“Is fabric, and can be replaced.” She stood taking one of his arms while Maxwell took the other, helping him stand.

Despite his continued insistence that the medical tent was no place for a lady of her status, CC refused to leave. It made things rather awkward when he had to strip down, and Maxwell had to physically turn her away and move to the other side of the tent to allow him some form of privacy. Niles was grateful for that; he had no idea what kind of mess was under the armour, but if it was anywhere near as bad as it felt he wouldn’t wish the sight on anyone. The medic managed to dress the wound, a scratch on his side where the tip of the mace had torn through the armour. It looked worse than it was thankfully, and once done he allowed Maxwell and CC to return. She wasted no time and was instantly by his side, checking all of him that she could see for any more wounds.

“My Lady, I promise you that I’m fine,” he said gently.

“Well you don’t look it,” she huffed.

“The gash in his side isn’t as deep as I feared,” the medic advised. “It should heal within a week or two.” Niles tried to sit up but a wave of dizziness swept over him, and he quickly lay back down. “I don’t recommend moving too much for the next few days. You’ll only slow your recovery.”

Maxwell thanked the man and led him out, while CC sat with Niles. He wanted to talk to her, to assure her that he was fine, but he felt sick and so kept his eyes closed and his breathing even. He was only disturbed when he heard Maxwell greet his next visitor.

“Your Grace.”

His eyes snapped open, and he whipped his head around to see CC’s father standing there. He attempted to sit up again, but to no avail.

“Would you two mind leaving me to talk to our champion?” he asked gently. CC seemed to be about to protest, before Maxwell caught her arm and gently led her out of the tent.

As soon as they were gone, the older man took a seat on the cot next to Niles.

“Forgive me for not moving, your Grace,” he groaned. “I fear I may pass out if I do.”

He shook his head. “Think nothing of it. I wanted to meet the champion of the hour. See his face this time.” Niles felt his cheeks go red, and the older man chuckled. “You did what I thought impossible,” he said quietly. “She was betrothed to that boy so many years ago now. Before any of us saw who he really was. Before her brother left. I had been looking for a way to free her from that obligation without starting a full on war.” He swallowed hard, and looked at Niles. “Thank you.”

Niles nodded. “I did nothing but what was asked of me, Sire.”

“You and I both know that’s decidedly untrue.”

He tilted his head as best he could. “Sir?”

“A man does not risk his life for a house he’s not indentured to for nothing.”

“She’s the prin-”

“Which you didn’t know when you agreed.” At the look on Niles face, he clarified. “Lord Sheffield’s boy told me everything.”

He felt a cold sweat on the back of his neck. “Everything?”

“You did it because you care for her.”

He nodded. “Yes, your Grace,” he whispered.

The older man looked at him for a long moment, as though studying him, before nodding and getting up. “I believe I know all I need to. I’ll have young Sheffield bring you to me when you're in a better state and we can discuss a reward.”

“I didn’t do this for a rew-”

“And that is exactly why you’ll receive one.”

He began to panic slightly. “But your Grace-”

“I would have you hear me out when you're well enough to do so rather than argue the point here, if it’s all the same. Rest easy, Champion.”

He was moved from the medical tent to a room in the estate, much fancier than his own. He suspected that this was in part due to his role in the whole affair, and partly because the heir to the throne point blank refused to leave him alone.

CC had taken to sitting next to the bed, gently running a hand through his hair. He found the action soothing, and was content enough to lie there and let her do as she pleased.

“Why did you do it, Niles?” she asked finally, when she felt he had recovered enough to talk to her without vomiting or passing out.

“Fight for you?”

“Take the Champion’s place.”

He frowned, opening his eyes to look at her. “What do you mean ‘take the Champion’s place’?”

“What would you have done if Edmund really had convinced the Champion to fight for him?”

He reached up and caught her hand, pulling it down to his chest and clutching it over his heart. “CC,” he murmured. “I didn’t take anyone’s place. It’s always been me.”

“Impossible.”

“Really?” he chuckled. “You didn’t bat an eye when you saw me standing there in my armour in the tent.”

“It’s not you.”

“Why do you think I never come to these things? How do you think it is that Maxwell has been the only one who’s known the champion’s identity this whole time?”

“I know the champion,” she huffed.

He looked at her for a long moment, studying her. “At the last tourney,” he said quietly, “I offered you a white rose. A symbol of many things, but specifically one of loyalty. And I said to you that I was your loyal servant.”

Her jaw dropped slightly. “How do you know that?”

“Honestly, I thought I’d given myself away by using the word ‘servant’. Perhaps I’m a bit more subtle than I realised.”

“So… it’s always been you? Since the first?”

“Since always.”

“You let me say such awful things to you in one breath and then you listened to me sing your praises in another.”

“I lived for your compliments and admiration,” he sighed. “I still do. Like I said before, I never meant to lie to you. I never wanted the fame and recognition that came with being a champion. I only started it because Maxwell signed me up. Then when it turned out I was rather good at it, he sponsored me. Commissioned the armour and arms, and a few weapons to boot. I think he had more fun with it than I did. But I never got tired of seeing you cheer for me.” He watched as her bottom lip trembled, and he reached out his free hand to cup her cheek. “I feared you would hate me when you knew the truth.”

She covered his hand with her own, leaning into the touch. “I was so scared, Niles,” she admitted. Scared that my champion would lose, and that you had abandoned me to face it alone.”

When he gave her a confused look, she continued. “There was a part of me that thought it might be you. I wanted you to take off your helmet, so that I could see you. But you didn't."

"Couldn't," he corrected. "It's designed that way."

"You lowered your voice too. I though 'how silly of me, thinking it could be Niles'. And then you didn't join us in the stand. I thought that even if you hated the sport, you'd still stand with me. Like you did both did when we saw my father." She looked down at their clasped hands. "You and Maxwell have been there for me my entire life. You were the only one not afraid to challenge me, and Gods I love you for that. I realise now that you didn’t know the full truth, but somehow that makes it better. It means that you fell for me for who I am, not because of the status.”

“No-one ever called you ‘princess’; how was I to know?”

“I hate that title,” she sighed. “It always sounds so condescending. ‘My Lady’ at least has some weight behind it.”

“Your father wants to talk to me. When I’ve healed enough to move.”

She nodded. “He wants to reward you. You helped him more than you know.”

“I don’t need a reward,” he assured her.

“You’ll keep that to yourself and listen to what he’s offering you,” she huffed. “Father doesn’t give out rewards lightly.”

“I just… I don’t want you to think I did this for my own selfish reasons.”

“You’ve already made that clear. The battle is over; you are the victor. Take the damn prize, Niles.”

He had no response to that, so chose to let her win that particular argument. He let his hand drop back down to the bed, feeling slightly weary again.

“Will you keep competing?” she asked quietly. “Now that they all know who you are?”

“Would you rather I stop?” It was a genuine question. He’d truly only ever really done it to watch her cheer for him.

She was quiet for a long time, contemplating her answer. “That depends.”

“On?”

“On whether or not you plan to remain undefeated.”

He chuckled. “I’ve gone this long, haven’t I?”

“Yes and this last one was a little touch and go.” She poked his wounded side gently, but enough to make him hiss.

“Yes well I’m not usually thinking about how much I would like to actually kill my opponent and how much is actually riding on my winning.”

“You wanted to kill him? You told me you had no desire to do so.”

“Well, it would have been ungentlemanly to admit that to a crowd. In front of yourself and your father, and the lord’s father.” He squeezed her hand gently. “I heard the way he spoke to you. The thought that my failure would mean you would be stuck with him… No. It was more than I could bear.”

She reached out once more with her free hand to run it through his hair. “How long have you known?”

“A long time,” he murmured. “A very long time.”

“You had the chance to kiss me once. You never took it.”

He remembered; the two of them in the woods, arguing over having lost Maxwell. She had gotten right up in his face, and all it would have taken was for one of them to lean forward ever so slightly. There had been no-one around, no-one to judge or chastise. Instead he’d swallowed hard and stalked off, making sure that he was always a step ahead of her. No more, no less.

“I would never have stopped,” he admitted. “Assuming you even let me get away with it.”

She leaned forward, and pressed her lips to his. He held his breath, savouring the moment for as long as he possibly could. He could taste honey on her lips from her tea, and he never wanted to taste anything else for as long as he lived. When she finally pulled back, he wanted to sob.

“I would have let you,” she admitted quietly. “I would have let you kiss me and more.”

He was tempted to ask what she meant by that, but before he had a chance to, there was a knock at the door. It opened, revealing Maxwell.

“Sorry to intrude, but his Grace is asking for you.” CC sighed and stood, but he held up his hand. “Both of you if possible.”

They looked down to Niles, who managed to pull himself into a sitting position, swinging himself around so that he was sat on the edge of the bed. “I think I’ll be alright. As long as you don’t mind me taking it slowly.”

Maxwell smiled. “Take all the time you need.”

He was thankful that he’d taken to getting dressed in the mornings and lying on top of his sheets rather than beneath them throughout the day. It made it easier when it came to things like this. CC helped him to his feet, and when he was steady she walked on his right side, with Maxwell on his left. They went slow, stopping on occasion when he felt a sharp twinge of pain in his side, but managed relatively well. They arrived at the main hall, and Niles had to smile to himself. The last time he had been in here was when that boy had essentially challenged him. And now look where he was.

He had expected CC to keep going to stand by her father, but all three of them stopped as one, as though the two of them were pillars holding him in place. He was incredibly grateful for that.

Maxwell’s father leaned over. “Stuart, let the boy have a seat at least.”

“Now, now, James. I think said boy is quite happy as he is,” he smiled, at Niles, who felt his cheeks grow hot. “Niles,” he began, more seriously. “I’ve already explained this, but I would once again like to express how grateful I am for your service. And to young Maxwell. Between his suggestion, and your actions, we have managed to disentangle ourselves from a distasteful union, and do so without sparking an all-out war. I also understand that you did not do this for selfish reasons. You have asked for nothing. However I would like to offer you an opportunity.”

“Sire?”

“Should you chose to accept, you will be granted a real title. Become a true knight, and a true Champion.”

Niles had been dreading something that would send him far away; out of reach of his family and the people he loved. Granting him a title and making his position official; that he could live with. “I’d be honoured, your Grace.”

He smiled. “Good. In that case, since you are now technically recognised nobility, I would like to ask if you would consider marrying my daughter.”

Niles’ eyes widened. It had been his deepest darkest wish; that by reward he had meant the opportunity to be with his love. He hadn’t really expected it. He had been outclassed when he thought she was simply the daughter of a Lord. As the heir to the throne, it was almost treasonous to consider. And yet here he was being asked if he would do so directly. He could feel CC’s hand on his back, holding him steady as he waved on his feet.

“I…your Grace, I’m humbled by the offer, but are you sure this is wise?” He had to know. He had to be sure that they had thought this through, lest they change their minds and take it back.

“I think we’ve had enough trouble with trying to find a proper match within the nobility. And besides, I’ve been told that she will have no-one but you.”

“I know that feeling,” Lord James muttered, casting a glance at his own son. Maxwell simply looked at him innocently.

Niles glazed at CC, who gave him a small smile. “You told him that?”

“I took a leaf out of Maxwell’s book.”

He turned back to the Lords. “If she is content to have me, then I am but her humble servant.”