Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The clang of steel on steel rose to the heights of the tower, and rays from the late afternoon sun glinted off of the opponents’ hauberks. Their movements were equal parts dexterity and strength, as much of a dance as a conflict. As evenly matched as any fighters and more skilled than most, they bore matching bruises and wore matching grins as blow after blow was exchanged. This was a long-lived rivalry. Since they met in childhood, the two combatants had had a friendship based on mutual respect and a healthy dose of competition. 

Shield held high to cover her shoulder, Kara slowly circled her foe. Her sword hung from her hand, her right shoulder drooped as she panted with exhaustion. Still, she smiled, just a little smirk as she shook sweat from her face.

“There’s only one way for this to end,” Kara said, “surrender.”

Lena smiled in return. They’d sparred the morning away, stopping only for water, bread, and some good-natured ribbing. Other nobles watched them, having paused in their own practice to see the latest result in their ongoing competition and place wagers on the outcome.

“You wish to surrender to me? Very well. I accept,” Lena said.

Kara chuckled and swung, a sloppy, overhead move that was easily deflected. “Too bad your sword isn’t as sharp as your tongue.”

Lena attacked in turn, a feint and then a low slash, aimed at Kara’s knee, forcing her to jump back. “Too bad your wit isn’t as sharp as my tongue.” With Kara’s weight back on her heels, Lena struck again and again. Kara fought off each strike until Lena was panting and blinking away dripping sweat.

“You’ve exhausted yourself. That’s a mistake especially when your opponent is bigger and stronger.”

“And more egotistical,” Lena quipped.

“Than you? Impossible.”

Lena didn’t deny it. Born into royalty, Lena put in as much if not more work than anyone to earn her skill. She rode faster, shot straighter, and fought better than any soldier in her mother’s army. Though it was said pride wasn’t a knightly virtue, when you’re good, a hearty ego is nearly impossible to avoid.

“Alright, fair enough,” Lena admitted, “but I still have more energy left than you. You look like you’re about ready to drop your sword.” 

“Are you so sure about that?” 

With a sudden burst of power and agility, Kara rained strike after strike down on Lena’s defense. It was Lena’s turn to switch from offense to defense, to dance back as she fought off the attack, until her back hit a post, and Kara closed. They were face to face, shields locked in a battle of strength and wills, both grinning at the experience.

“Tricky. You drew me in,” Lena said.

“Your ego is your weakness.” Though true, it wasn’t something Lena was about to admit because… well… ego. “Knowing how to fight is important, but knowing your opponent is equally so.”

“Who taught you that,” Lena pushed, trying to make enough room to slide past Kara, to get space so her speed and maneuverability could be used to her advantage again, but the larger girl would not be moved, “your father?”

Kara snorted, a sound completely unbefitting her station. But then, so was sweltering on a practice field, covered in dust and splatters of mud. “My father is brilliant, but I doubt he knows which end of a sword to grip. No, I learned that from Captain Danvers.”

Lena grunted, shoving again but with just as little (maybe even less) success. “Perhaps I should see if Captain Danvers wants to move permanently east. I’m sure there’s room in my mother’s guard for her… and a pay raise.”

“She would never—”

“I’ll have Samantha ask her.”

Kara didn’t manage more than a gasp of (mostly feigned) shock before a yell of, “Your Highness!” pulled them both back to their surroundings.

They startled, jerking apart suddenly. Striding across the yard was the woman in question, Lady Samantha, Lena’s lady-in-waiting. She wore a jade green dress that didn’t pair well with the scowl on her face, as she bore down on the sparring women. 

“She looks upset. Are we in trouble?” Kara whispered.

Lena hushed her friend, smiling openly at the other woman. “Samantha, what a pleasure it is to see you down on the sparring field. To what do we owe this rare visit?”

“You’re late.” Samantha crossed her arms, staring down several inches of height at the royal. She glared as if unaware of the difference in their stations. She was another friend, the young wife of a local lord who had died just weeks after their marriage and before ever finding out his wife was pregnant. The queen had taken her in, putting Samantha in charge of teaching a modicum of respectability to her young and headstrong child, a process that had been met with limited success. “You promised the queen you’d be clean and ready to join her on the balcony for the announcement and now look at you. Do you call this appropriately dressed?”

“Ah, but these are my best sparring britches. I call it rugged formal,” Lena said, the smile leaving her face as Sam’s glare intensified, and Kara stepped back from the radius of displeasure. “Not amusing?”

“The queen will not be amused.”

“So I’m done sparring?” Lena sighed, waving to Kara as she stepped away. “This isn’t over. We’ll finish this later.”

“Great,” Kara replied. “I never tire of showing you up.”

“In your dreams.”

“In your nightmares!” Kara called at Lena’s retreating back.

Sam stopped suddenly and spun, her smile more threat than friendly. “You also might want to consider changing before your mother gets here.”

“My mother isn’t coming to the tournament,” Kara replied. “My mother never comes to tournaments.”

“That’s not what the message the pigeon brought said. The queen should be here within the hour.” Then she turned on her heel again and marched past Lena who was grinning at this turn of events like a fox in a hen house.

“What? No. Alex!” Kara nearly fell as she ran off in search of the captain of her guard.

“That wasn’t a very nice trick,” Lena said, as she struggled to keep pace with Samantha on their way to the palace. Though every bit the lady with her stiff spine and head held high, Samantha was leggy and had used that to her advantage, to chase down the smaller princess, on more than one occasion. “You know Queen Alura never comes to these. You’re going to make Princess Kara wash her face for nothing.”

“It was no trick. The queen should be here within the hour.”

Lena stopped suddenly at that news, having to jog several steps to catch back up. “Why? She has no interest in tourneys.”

“I wouldn’t know, Your Highness. Questioning the motives of royalty is not my place.”

“You just tell them where to go and when to go there.” 

There was no attempt at disagreeing, just Samantha’s smile intensifying at the complaint/compliment. 

In Lena’s room, a large, wooden tub filled with steaming water and rose petals sat in the middle of the room. A servant poured in one last bucket and bowed, backing out of the room. Even as Samantha began to unlace Lena’s armor (which had been mentioned as something a lady-in-waiting would not do for a proper princess), Lena stammered and stuttered.

“I’m… I’m expected to take a bath? It’s not even Sunday.”

“You should have thought of that before you managed to get so thoroughly filthy. Ugh.” She dropped a pauldron to the floor with a clang that reverberated off the stone walls. “The queen was very clear. You need to be clean and formally dressed for the announcement.”

“And by formally dressed you mean—”

“A gown,” Samantha replied, making Lena moan. “No tabard and riding leathers today, Your Highness… Queen's orders.”

And that was that. Lena was stripped, sponged down, scrubbed clean, perfumed, and redressed in record time. Her hair was left unwashed (which Samantha claimed was a near sin but a necessity), as there would be no way to dry the thick, black locks in time, even in the day’s heat. Lena’s suggestion that they cut her hair short was met with a look that chilled the room considerably.

“Ah, you’re on time and presentable,” Queen Kieran said when Lena presented herself, both she and Samantha curtsying deeply in respect. Though redheaded where Lena shared her father’s raven locks, the queen was otherwise an older, spitting image of her child… or more accurately Lena was the spitting image. Green eyes, so much like her own, gave Lena a once over, and although the words, “It’s more than I had hoped,” came across a bit harsh (though not untrue) there was a gentleness to the voice and kindness in the eyes that had been present Lena’s entire life.

Still, the interruption of an all too rare day of sparring with her best friend did not sit well with Lena. “You can thank Samantha.” Lena sent Samantha a scalding look even as the other woman practically vibrated with pleasure at the praise.

“Oh, my dearest child,” the queen said, patting Lena’s arm, “I already knew that. As always, excellent work, Samantha.”

“It is my pleasure to be of service, Your Majesty.”

Lena aped Samantha’s words under her breath, but if the queen heard her, it was ignored as the childish antic that it was. 

Within minutes they stood together on the balcony, the echoing blare of trumpets slowly dying down as the assembled crowd, nobles and commoners alike, waited with anticipation for the announcement of the annual melee and this year’s prize. In years past the rewards had ranged from a custom suit of armor, to a trained war horse from the royal stables, to a pair of hunting falcons. Each prize was more generous and wonderful than the next, all part of the celebration of Princess Lena’s birth.

“Good people of Éire, traveling royalty and nobles, we thank you for once again joining us for the annual celebration. This is a time for all of us to come together, to put away past grievances and join in the revelry. Let us remember the good fortunes we’ve had and say a word of remembrance for those who are less fortunate.”

Lena had heard this speech every year since her birth. Health, harvest, hardship… blah, blah, blah. Her mother could at least change this up a little bit to keep it lively. The monotony was as likely to kill as the plague.

“As usual, there will be a full tournament with prizes for nobles, and for the commoners, we will have archery and foot races with prizes awarded as well.” Murmurs set off across the crowd but quickly died down. “As in the past, the grand prize this year will be for the melee. This is open to any noble, and this year we expect the fiercest competition yet. My daughter, Princess Lena, has come of age, and the winner of the melee will earn her hand in marriage.” 

Anything else the queen said, if she indeed said anything else, was swallowed up by the pounding of blood in Lena’s ears. Marriage? Her marriage? Her head swam and knees threatened to buckle, and she grabbed hold of the stone ledge on the balcony to keep herself on her feet. Down below, noblemen cheered, some pointing up at Lena as they shook their compatriots with excitement.

Lena barely registered the voice in her ear or the hand on her elbow, leading her back inside and to a seat. “Are you alright?” Samantha asked.

“Marriage? I’m to be married? Tell me you didn’t know.”

Samantha dared a glance over at the queen, who was busy with her seneschal, and whispered, “I did not, Your Highness. You had no idea?”

“None.” Lena took a deep breath and then another, trying to clear her head, but the walls still loomed dangerously close. It took everything in her power to stay seated and not run from the room. “What am I going to do?”

“There’s only one thing you can do,” Samantha replied, “your duty.”

Chapter Text

Kara paced the room while the porters brought in the last of her mother’s things. She was half-tempted to help unload the carriage, whatever it took to get them some privacy; but as she was about to ask a favor, the last thing she needed was scolding for behavior unbefitting her station. So she sat and fidgeted, her fingers playing with the frayed thread on her jerkin in search of a distraction. When the last man left with a bow and closed the door behind himself, Kara was on her feet in a heartbeat.

“Mother, I need your help.”

“Hmmmm.” Queen Alura hummed, her gaze trained on her needlepoint, but Kara knew her well enough to understand that was not a representation of her attention. Many had made the mistake of assuming the disaffected manner of the queen was related to her intelligence or interest, but it was as much an intended distraction from her keen and just mind as any feint on the battlefield. An implied weakness that did not exist was, in fact, a strength. “So that is why my daughter chooses to grace me with her presence instead of rolling around in the mud trying to catch a pig.”

“Mother, I haven’t taken part in a pig scramble since I was nine-years-old… and I caught it.”

“Yes, and imagine my cup, overflowing with pride when the princess, caked in mud and filth, carried the squealing pig into the great hall to show the assemblage her accomplishment.” Finally, the needlework was put aside, and Alura met her daughter’s steady gaze. “Do you want to tell me what this is about, or shall I guess?”

“I want you to convince Queen Kieran to call off the melee.”

“Ah, it is about Princess Lena.” 

Kara had seen this smile grace her mother’s face before, usually before some lord fell into one of her traps. Not a physical trap, as the mechanical protections around the castle were more her father’s area of expertise. It was said that Queen Alura could convince a man to hang himself and bring his own rope to do it. Knowledge was the greatest power, and though Kara was tempted to dig into that look further, now was not the time. The tournament would begin in less than a day.

“It’s about an archaic practice to sell a woman like a prize heifer. Mother, you can’t agree with this.”

“I do not,” Alura admitted, “but it is not our place to question how others rule in their land. Queen Kieran is making the best choice she can in her situation.”

It was an odd word choice, seeded with implications. Queen Alura had spent last fall in Éire with Queen Kieran, reportedly enjoying rides across the countryside and some falconry. At the time, Kara had wondered at her mother’s absence from the castle during preparations for the winter, but the queen was home before the first frost, and Kara’s questions were quickly forgotten. This though, her mother’s presence at the tourney and hidden meaning in Alura’s words begged investigation.

“What does that mean, her situation?”

“Kara,” Alura waved dismissively, “do not worry yourself about this. I am certain there will be events in the tourney that—”

“I may be your child, but I’m not a child,” Kara snapped.

Which was apparently the wrong tone to take. Alura pulled herself to her full height, looking down at Kara who had reflexively recoiled. “And I am your queen, and you would do well to remember that.”

Apologizing and taking her leave would probably have been the wisest move, but Kara wasn’t known for her wisdom. She was said to be headstrong, quick to take action though not to anger. Her snap decision making, it was said, would aid her on the battlefield but not in the throne room. “Of course, you are, Your Majesty, but one day I will be queen, and I’ll be a worse one if I’m insulated from harsh realities.” It amazed her how little most people knew her.

It seemed that Alura also saw the wisdom in Kara’s words. So with a nod, she retook her seat and signaled Kara to do the same. “You are aware that there has been trouble on the southern border of Éire, yes?”

“Of course, Lena has mentioned the bandits have been growing more aggressive but… Why are you shaking your head no?”

“They are not bandits,” Alura said simply. “It cannot yet be proven, and they are not wearing the insignia of any lord, but they are too well equipped, their tactics are too indicative of formal training, for this to be a random, roaming menace. Someone is playing a dangerous game.”

“But who?” 

Éire was a wealthy nation, one that had inevitably garnered some unwanted attention from its neighbors, but they also had a formidable and sizable army. Moreover, their navy was second to none. Any armed force of a size that could cause problems would either have to come by sea, maneuver the treacherous mountain passes, or travel through Daxam. Each path was more difficult than the next.

“Officially?” Alura waited until Kara had nodded, understanding the need for secrecy. “We do not know. Officially, Queen Kieran is accepting this is the work of bandits, but unofficially, the most likely perpetrators are the Duke of Edge and Lord Maxwell working with Daxam.”

“No, not Daxam. Mon-El would never—”

“Mon-El is not king, and I think we can agree that Queen Rhea is determined in her desire to give her son a strong foothold in this region.”

“But King Lar—”

“Is ill, much more so than the news that has been spread. For the past year, he has been king in name only. It is unlikely he will last another winter.”

Harsh truths indeed, but Kara had requested this, had asked that the veil of childhood be pulled back so she might sit at the adult table. That didn’t make things any easier. If what her mother was suggesting was true, and Kara had no reason to doubt her mother’s shrewd navigation of the political situation, then Krypton’s strongest ally, Daxam, was making an aggressive play on the kingdom of Éire.

It made sense. As distasteful as this whole thing was, it made sense. Daxam’s harsh climate and rocky land masses gave them two major resources: soldiers and gold. That left them dependent on the more fertile lands of Éire and Krypton. It was well-known that Queen Rhea had, on more than one occasion, advanced the idea of buying Éire’s farmland that butted up against Daxam’s southern border. Even just a few hundred acres would make Daxam less reliant on other kingdoms, and though overtly the sale of the area would help both lands, it also created a more nuanced situation. Daxam would have control of the North River, important as both a natural barrier and as a highway for trading. More importantly, the farmland would be a critical strategic lever should Daxam’s army attack and need resources. Queen Alura had often said an army travels not on its feet but on its stomach. 

“What do we do?”

“We have done what we can. Should Éire be forced to go to war, Spheer will provide rockets in defense. There is already a contingent of Éire soldiers being trained in their safe use. Krypton will issue sanctions and withhold resources to Daxam. We will issue a strongly worded proclamation condemning—”

“Ridiculous! The Royal Forces of Krypton are one of the best trained forces in all of the fourteen kingdoms,” Kara said, ignoring her mother’s attempt to interrupt. “Together with Éire and Spheer, we could defeat Daxam, push their forces back beyond the White Mountains, and—”

“Kara!” 

Well past the line of what was appropriate when speaking to her liege, silence was Kara’s only option as she lowered herself back into her seat. 

“Queen Catherine is on our southern border, and though intelligence suggests she is not involved in these affairs, she is nevertheless well aware of them. The only thing currently keeping her at bay is our treaty with Daxam, but if we were to make an aggressive move toward that kingdom, it would destroy that treaty, and she would not hesitate to take advantage of our weakness. If she attacks when our army is split, we will not be able to fight a two-pronged war. We will be forced to pull troops back from Éire, leaving them undefended on one front, and even that may not be enough to save us. I will not gamble my kingdom and your future even for a strong ally and friend. It would be… politically disadvantageous. I am sorry. Truly.”

As the truth of her mother’s words sank in, Kara was forced to nod at the unfortunate reality before her. The queen’s first responsibility was to her land and her people, and no one, no matter how good a friend, could come before that. Heavy was the head that wore the crown.

“I understand, Mother, and I apologize for speaking out of turn, but if I may…?” It was a brave move, but besides a raised voice and brow, Queen Alura hadn’t reproached her yet, so Kara waited for a hesitant nod and asked, “What does all of this have to do with the tourney?”

“Allies are formed in many ways, Kara, and marriage is one of the most common. Both Prince Jack and the Duke of Kent are forerunners in the tourney so—”

“My cousin Clark?” Kara struggled to suppress her shudder. Clark was a wonderful person, and though marriage to an older man was common enough, there was something about Lena wedding her cousin that made Kara especially uncomfortable.

“Do you intend to continue interrupting your queen?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“Thank you. Now, as I was saying, there have been many offers for Princess Lena’s hand in marriage. The most prudent option would be Prince Mon-El—”

Though Kara said nothing, it was a near thing. Mon-El was a decent man and a friend. As far as warriors went, he was exceptional. However, it was clear why Queen Rhea would desire Lena for his wife. Lena would one day be an exceptional ruler: just, practical, wise, and highly intelligent. On the other hand, Mon-El was about as sharp as a bag of wet mice.

“You look like you want to say something.”

Very much so she did, but Kara shook her head and didn’t push her luck.

“Excellent decision. Perhaps you do take after your mother. Now, as I was saying, were Lena to wed Mon-El, it would secure Éire’s northern border and provide both lands with resources. Queen Kieran would prefer a marriage to the Prince of Spheer. Though less politically advantageous in the short term, Spheer has some advanced farming and construction techniques, and quite frankly, Prince Jack would be a better match for the princess. Queen Kieran is not heartless when it comes to her child’s future. However, Queen Rhea has made it clear that the rejection of her son for another would be the gravest insult—”

“And would be a cause to go to war. Sorry. Go on.”

“No, you are correct. If Queen Kieran does nothing, it will likely end in war. If she marries Lena to a suitor that would be more appropriate, that would also have a bloody end. However, if there were a tourney and the victor were to wed the princess…”

It was a complicated web, but that was politics. Queen Kieran’s back was to a wall with few ways out, and the one path in front of her was rocky and unpleasant (in Kara’s opinion). There was just one more fly in the ointment.

“What if Mon-El wins the melee?” Kara asked.

“He has refused to enter.” Alura shrugged and picked up her needlepoint, frowning as if it offended her in some way, as if she spotted some tiny imperfection in her process. “Queen Rhea is quite beside herself, but what is to be done? Headstrong youth and all. Personally, I think your cousin Clark is the favorite, but I would not count out Prince Jack. No matter what, it should make for an interesting next few days, don’t you think, Kara?”

“Thank you for the explanation, Mother,” Kara said, taking her leave and making her way down the hallways at breakneck speed, barely avoiding several servants who would be the worse for wear were they to connect with the frantic princess. She had less than a day to find another solution to prevent a brewing war and save Lena. After all, that’s what friends were for, right?

Chapter Text

Lena’s footsteps echoed down the hallway even as Samantha’s words echoed in her mind. “There’s only one thing you can do… your duty.” In a way, this day had long been inevitable. Growing older meant growing up and putting away childish things. The reality of her station and the burdens that accompanied it had long rested in the back of Lena’s mind, but years spent dismissing that reality as a problem for another day had made the process second nature. The realization that today was that other day, that there would be no more avoiding her inescapable destiny, bore down on her with a soul-crushing weight. Tomorrow she would be engaged, and then married within the month, and there was nothing to be done but to accept that truth.

She was practically yanked inside after knocking on Kara’s chamber door. The Kryptonian princess seemed as stimulated as Lena was static, tugging Lena by the hand and into the bedroom where a strange assortment of people waited. Perhaps it was a sort of ‘going away’ party, as Lena would be leaving her relatively carefree life to prepare for her future as a ruler. However, it lacked the mind-numbing ale which Lena so desperately craved at this moment.

“Whatever this is, how about we move it to the tavern,” Lena suggested. “Let’s enjoy my last night as a free… freeish woman in style. I’m buying.”

Mon-El was instantly on his feet at the suggestion and then back in his chair with Kara’s forceful hand on his shoulder.

“We’re here to discuss the melee. Not to drink,” Kara said.

“What’s to discuss?” Lena flopped back onto the divan, tugging her jerkin back into place. “Tomorrow, we’ll hold a nobles’ melee, and I’ll marry the winner. I just hope whoever he is, he isn’t ancient. I swear, Lady Eve’s husband could have been her grandfather.”

“I’m entering,” Sir James said. 

This wasn’t exactly a surprise. James, the son of the Duke of Metropolis, had sworn his loyalty not just to the crown but to the princess at a young age. It was a well-known fact that the duke had made some not so subtle suggestions about a joining of their families, suggestions about which James seemed quite eager.  Metropolis was the largest trading hub not just in Éire but on the continent, and even though a marriage between them would be politically advantageous, Lena had voiced her lack of interest to the queen. It seemed circumstances were now in James’ favor. 

“Best of luck,” she said and offered him a shy smile.

“I think I have a pretty good chance. The Duke of Kent is my only real competition.”

Now that was a bit of a surprise. Sir Clark was an exceptional swordsman, but it was the worst kept secret in all of the kingdoms that he was in love with Lady Lois. Her father, Lord Samuel, was a general in queen Catherine’s army who had been landed as a reward for his exceptional service. There was something between Lord Samuel and Sir Clark, something ugly and ill-defined, that had caused Clark’s overtures of marriage for Lady Lois to be rebuffed even when the offer was encouraged by the queen. Clark was not a man to walk away from what he truly wanted, especially when the second worst kept secret in the kingdoms was that Lois loved him in return.

“Your cousin is competing?”

Kara winced and nodded, refusing to make eye contact with Lena. Her crinkle, the one that usually only made an appearance when trying to answer one of Winn’s riddles or figure out the ingredients of a new dessert, appeared. It was a curiosity, the type Lena would usually pursue if her entire future weren’t literally on the line at the moment.

“Oh, well that’s good, I suppose,” Lena said. “Hey, if Clark wins, you and I will be family. Won’t that be nice, Kara?”

Now this was a new look. Gone was the crinkle to be replaced by… Lena had no idea. Kara’s current expression was a complete enigma. Perhaps whatever was going on inside of Kara’s mind was equally so.

Pounding on the door interrupted their discussion, but it was just Winn, Prince Mon-El’s minstrel. He was winded and red faced, obviously having run with no care for his appearance upon arrival.

“I have news.” Winn panted, one hand on his knee as he bent at the waist and fanned himself with his hat. “There’s been an attack.”

“A declaration of war?” Kara’s gaze bounced oddly between Lena and Mon-El. “Um… who?”

“No, not that.” Winn waved her off, accepting the chair Mon-El offered him. “There was a bandit attack on the road.”

“That’s hardly news,” Lena said. “I’m sure my mother’s guards will track them down and deal with them.”

“But someone was injured.” 

After several, painful moments of silence, Lena encouraged Winn to continue with a slap on the arm. “Who?”

“Oh, yeah. It was the Prince of Spheer. He’s with the royal physician right now, but he had a nasty gash on his leg. He couldn’t even walk.”

Now that was concerning. Prince Jack had a quick mind, gentle tone, and his face was pleasant enough. He made an excellent companion, and if Lena was forced to take a husband, she hoped that it could at least be someone of his caliber who could carry on a conversation and wasn’t entirely unfortunate. She was also quite certain her mother would be pleased at that result, and as the prince and his family seemed to hold similar views, it was a bit odd that their families didn’t just arrange the marriage instead of going through this complicated competition for her hand.

“Will he be alright?” Lena asked.

“That’s a question for the physician. There was a lot of blood.”

“I’m going to go see him,” Lena said, barely noting Kara hurrying after her.

“Lena, I need to talk to you,” Kara said.

“Afterwards. First I want to make sure that Jack is—” Lena staggered at the first alcove, as Kara grabbed her arm and yanked her to the side. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t think it was bandits,” Kara whispered. “Did your mother tell you why she’s having this competition?”

“To marry me off? We didn’t really discuss it. I was so shocked. Why? What do you know that I don’t?”

“Very little, generally speaking,” Kara admitted, “but in this case a lot. Queen Rhea wants you wed to Mon-El so she can gain access to Éire’s farmland and trade routes. The bandit attacks are coming from Daxam.”

“No.” But it all made so much sense. If Queen Rhea was offering an alliance through marriage, Lena taking a different offer could easily be seen as a snub, but if she were married to the most worthy suitor, the winner of the tournament… “Mon-El doesn’t know anything about this, does he?”

“Of course, not.”

“I didn’t think so. He’s hardly the sharpest knife in the block. He wouldn’t be capable of this sort of deception. I’m just surprised that King Lar is going along with this.”

“He’s dying.”

It seemed that today was a day of unpleasantries.

“Dear lord. It’s all coming together now. Queen Rhea is really so desperate for an heir that she’d chance going to war over it?”

“I think it’s more than that,” Kara said. “We all know how well-meaning Mon-El is, but he isn’t the leader his father is or the strategist that his mother is. I think she wants to be assured that Mon-El’s wife, the future queen of Daxam, will continue her legacy. The queen respects you.”

“Lovely.” 

It wasn’t really. Though Queen Rhea had always been kind (perhaps a bit too much) to Lena, it was now clear that this kindness was calculated. Her mother had always described Rhea as ambitious, but that seemed to be an understatement. Not only could this alliance provide Daxam the foothold it needed and secure Mon-El’s future, but if Rhea were to find herself with two kingdoms under her thumb, her ambitious nature could very well lead her to name herself empress.

“Look, Kara, I appreciate you looking out for me and bringing this to my attention, but it doesn’t really help me any. No matter what brought it to a head, Éire is on the brink of war, and the only thing that can stop it is my marriage. It’s my duty. You understand that.” With a pat on the shoulder, Lena left a silent Kara behind her. She could only hope that her friend understood because Lena wasn’t sure that she did.

Prince Jack’s injury wasn’t life threatening, so said Querl, the royal physician. However, he did have a nasty gash in his leg. He’d need to stay off it for several weeks, wash it daily, and have leechings done to keep the rot from setting in. As relieved as Lena was that her friend would recover, this meant one fewer quality contestant in the tourney. Her mood worsened when she saw the banners of Lord Maxwell and the Duke of Edge.

The fact that these two particularly vile examples of humanity had learned about the tourney and arrived so quickly only further proved Kara’s warnings of a plot. Even at an aggressive pace, both of their lands were several days’ ride away, and they did not normally take part in Éire’s annual tourney. Someone had given them advanced notice as to this year’s prize which clearly showed that many and varied machinations were in the works behind the scene. 

With her mother secreted away taking counsel, Lena had no one with whom to discuss the things she had recently learned. Whatever was going on, whatever had been kept from her was the queen’s right, and failing to prepare for tonight’s feast in a timely fashion would win her no favors. So she returned to her chambers, her mind still spinning with this new knowledge and all of the possible repercussions.

“You’re on time. I suppose I can call off the hounds,” Samantha said in greeting, but her humorous tone quickly changed when Lena didn’t engage in their usual verbal sparring. “Are you still upset from earlier?”

“No - well yes but no,” Lena replied, her words as much of a jumble as her thoughts. “Yes, I’m still upset from earlier, but some new information has come my way, some equally if not more upsetting news.”

“Oh, no. What’s happened now?”

Though a close confidant and friend, if the queen had not yet discussed these matters with Lena, discussing them with Samantha would be out of the question. Even the comfort of the lady’s wise counsel could not be chanced amid this rat’s nest of schemes.

“Prince Jack was injured. They say he was attacked by bandits in the woods outside town.”

“Oh, no! Is he alright?”

“He’ll live, but he’s out of the tourney. It’s disappointing.” Though true it was hardly the truth. Jack would recover to fight another day and marry someone else. The lack of his presence in the tourney was both unfortunate and less of a disappointment than it should have been.

“Well, that’s good, not that he’s injured but that he’ll recover.”

Lena could only nod while Samantha continued with small talk and bits of useless gossip from around the castle. She found it unlikely that knowing who the miller caught his daughter kissing in the barn would assist in her plight. Oh, to be a miller’s daughter, capable of a dalliance with a partner of her choosing. So while Samantha droned on, Lena half-listened and dreamed of a different life. She allowed herself to fantasize while her hair was washed, toweled thoroughly, and left to dry in the sun as she sat in front of the window. She daydreamed of another life while her face was powdered and lips rouged. She imagined being a different person while her dress was laced and tightened. She was so lost in her vision that she startled at the knock on her chamber door.

Samantha was only gone for a moment, checking on the caller, and returned quickly with a slip of paper. “A note, Your Highness.”

There was no seal, so it was clearly not from her mother or any of the nobles who would be vying for her hand. So she opened it, not knowing what to expect and not expecting what she found. With each word she read, Lena could feel her brow climbing higher and higher as it sought to reach the apex of her forehead.

“You’re paler than the powder. What’s wrong now?”

“It’s Sir James.” Lena handed the note over for Samantha’s examination. “He’s been thrown from his horse and injured. They fear the bone in his sword arm may be broken.”

“Goodness!” Samantha inspected the letter briefly, but there was nothing in it outside of what Lena had said. “Another mishap. How unfortuitous.” 

“Yes, another unfortunate accident .”

“And what is that tone about?”

In the years since being taken on as the lady-in-waiting for a young princess, Samantha had proven herself loyal, kind, and quite astute. Little that affected Lena, or Lena’s mood, seemed to slip by Samantha. However, this wasn’t out of idle curiosity or a desire to meddle. Samantha had shown herself to be protective, almost motherly. She provided Lena with a double dose of familial concern, second only to Queen Kieran’s. Though this affection was normally a good thing, the amount of insight it gave on the princess’ affairs could at times be inconvenient. 

“What tone?” Lena asked, her voice neutral as she distractedly studied her reflection. “This is the way I normally speak.”

“You shouldn’t lie.”

Lena sighed and spun to face the shrewd lady-in-waiting. “And you shouldn’t question your future queen, yet here we are.”

“The queen says that an opinion that cannot survive scrutiny is not one worth having.”

“Good lord, now you’re quoting my mother at me? Couldn’t you two at least wait to be in the same room before you gang up on me?” Though not much of an outburst, it was difficult to hide her ire at this whole situation. Acidity leaked into her voice, and she expected the requisite reprimand for her ill manner. Instead, a hand took hers and gave a gentle squeeze.

“This isn’t just about the tournament, is it?”

“It…” Lena gauged her words carefully, measuring Samantha’s personal loyalty with loyalty to the crown. “Are you sure you knew nothing about this until today? You overheard nothing? My mother didn’t confide a word in you?”

“Nothing,” Samantha replied. “I swear it on my honor.”

“A simple no would have sufficed, Samantha. Your word is beyond reproach.” Samantha smiled and bowed her head at the compliment, as Lena considered her next move. Confiding in Samantha would be a calculated risk, but Lena would be queen one day, perhaps of more than one land. Cowardice did not suit the wearer of the crown. “Duke Edge and Lord Maxwell are here for the tourney.”

“I’m aware. It’s surprising, and I understand why neither of them would be your first choice for a husband. Is that your concern?”

“Well, it is now,” Lena admitted, pushing away thoughts of the unsavory duo, “but my concern runs deeper than that. I don’t think James’ accident was accidental.”

“But who would— oh. Oh!” Samantha’s eyes widened, and Lena could almost smell the embers burning in the forge as her lady-in-waiting’s bright mind went to work. “And Prince Jack?”

“Him too. I have no proof, of course, but I’d bet my favorite destrier those two were behind both incidents.”

“But why?”

Lena crossed her arms, one brow raised as she willed Samantha to put the rest of the pieces together. It wasn’t a long wait.

“We should tell the queen,” Samantha said, as she moved purposefully toward the door, stopping at Lena’s hand on her wrist.

“Tell her what, that two nobles of unscrupulous character are having a run of good timing and good fortune? I think not.” It was true that Lena didn’t have anything of substance to bring forward, and royal or not, one simply didn’t run around accusing nobles of dishonorable attacks on other nobles. There was another thing that stayed her tongue. “I also don’t think they’re in this alone.”

“But who would—”

“Never mind, Samantha. Just be grateful you can marry whomever you choose.”

“So long as they be of noble blood, yes.”

Lena chuckled, a dry and humorless sound given the topics of discussion. “What does that matter? It’s not like you’d want to marry a commoner.” Curiously, Samantha didn’t reply. She instead toyed with her sleeve, refusing to make eye contact. “Samantha, is there something you’re not telling me?”

Just then, trumpets blared, and the distant voice of the herald resonated within the room. 

“The feast begins,” Samantha said, offering Lena a sympathetic smile. “We should be off.”

“Fine, but this discussion is far from over. If I have no say in my own love life, I can at least meddle in yours.”

“I look forward to it, Your Highness.” 

Lena harrumphed as Samantha opened the chamber door and bowed shallowly. “Lying to your future queen is even worse than questioning her.”

They were escorted by guards to the feast, an unusual occurrence in her own castle that made Lena certain her mother shared in her suspicions. It seemed a waste of resources that could better be used to protect the few remaining tourney participants. Lena was safe. Her absence would only delay or even terminate the tourney… an idea that hadn’t occurred to Lena before but which suddenly permeated her thoughts. She could run. She could pack a bag tonight, get on her horse and… and what, abandon her people? If she were to do that, she’d be no better than the charlatans who were weighting the outcome of this tourney in their favor. Still, if Lord Maxwell or Duke Morgan were to win, she might need to reconsider her morality on this subject. Better to abandon her people than to hand them over to a ruler as grasping and conniving as either of those malcontents. It was possible, likely even, that her mother had thought of this too. Perhaps the lock on this door was meant to keep someone in and not out.

They arrived at the feasting hall and were ushered inside to the blaring of trumpets. Lena’s guards took stations at the doors. She could feel their gazes on her, heavy and unyielding like her future duties. It seemed that even one last night of freedom was too much to ask.

“Relax,” Samantha whispered as Lena offered a hollow smile and nod, as they passed by Lord White. “This is a party, and you should be happy.”

“This is a wake, and I should be laying down, toes up.”

“You’re so dramatic.” At Samantha’s beckon, a server appeared with glasses of wine. “Drink. You could use it.”

Lena waved off the server, an attractive girl with blonde hair, brown eyes, and a dimple that snuck into view when she smiled at the princess. Lena couldn’t help but smile back. She’d always had a thing for blondes. “I should probably keep my wits sharp.”

“Do it for me,” Samantha said, scooping the second glass of wine and, with a withering look, sending the maid scampering. “I’m not allowed to drink enough tonight to deal with your mood if you stay entirely sober.”

“Such insubordination. I should have you thrown into the dungeon.” When there was no snarky response, no witty repartee that had become commonplace in their conversations, Lena followed Samantha’s gaze, searching for what had distracted the lady. There was the usual staff and their guests for the revelry, but none should have been of such interest. The only one in that direction Samantha ever spoke to at any length was… oh.

Captain Alex Danvers cut a striking figure. Her doublet was a medium weight blue leather, a combination of formal wear and armor that suited the serious nature of the woman but that accented her figure pleasingly. Her red hair, a sensible, short cut that Lena had always envied for its utility, sat slicked back above the ears and hung neatly to one side on her forehead. On the left of her chest, just above the breast, was the golden symbol of the kingdom of Krypton, making her allegiance clear. 

If Samantha’s keen interest in the foreign captain wasn’t enough to draw Lena across the hall, the woman engaged in conversation with Alex did the trick. Long, blonde hair curled down the strangers back, resting against the rich, blue fabric of her dress. Though her face was obscured from this angle, she had broad shoulders and a narrow waist, an appealing combination that made Lena curious to get a better look at what lay below the gown. Though her mother would no doubt be furious were Lena to bed some stranger on the eve of her engagement, that was a problem so far down the list for ‘tomorrow Lena’ as to be ignored, so she took Samantha in hand and crossed the room.

“Good evening, Captain, and who is your enchanting—” Perhaps not so much a stranger as the woman turned to her, and familiar blue eyes crinkled in greeting. Gone was the sweat drenched hair, the mud caked skin, and the armor that both protected and obscured the lovely figure of Lena’s friend. “Ka… Kara. I didn’t recognize you from across the hall. You look… Wow.” It seemed years of training in proper etiquette were no match for Lena’s homosexuality.

“Wow yourself.” Kara’s smile grew, and how had Lena never noticed how full and perfectly formed her lips were. “I’ve seen you dressed up at a distance each year, but I don’t think I’ve seen you in a dress since… since…”

“The archduke’s seventy-fifth birthday celebration,” Lena provided, as she struggled to pull herself free of a haze. “You were eight.”

“And you were six,” Kara replied, favoring Lena with another of those addictive smiles. “Then we snuck away and went frogging in the pond, ruining our dresses and earning our mothers’ wrath.”  

“Yes, they never did appreciate a good frog, but at least they let us wear breeches from then on if only for the sake of the washerwoman.”

When Kara laughed, a sound she had heard a thousand times, Lena’s heart leaped against her ribcage, struggling to break free. A wave of heat hit Lena from the inside out, threatening to burn her to ashes where she stood. What was this feeling, this intoxicating swell of emotion? It was true that Kara was beautiful, far more beautiful than Lena had expected when freed of vestiges of battle, but still, it was just Kara: Kara her best friend, Kara her most trusted confidant, Kara the one person she would happily spend every waking moment with if… oh. Oh, horsefeathers. What an awful realization to have the night before you were to be promised to another.

“Lena, are you alright?”

“Hmmm?” It was only then that she was aware Kara was speaking to her, had probably shared another amusing tale from their childhood, but they weren’t children any more. “Just tired.”

“Oh, that’s a shame. I’m quite enjoying the music. I had hoped you might favor me with a dance.”

“I’d love…” Next to her, Samantha was entranced by a conversation with the captain, but it seemed unlikely she wouldn’t notice Lena heading to the dance floor with someone who wasn’t one of her suitors. “Actually, speaking of tired, Samantha looks exhausted. She’s been working much too hard, haven’t you, Lady Samantha?”

Samantha startled at her name, blinking away the fog of affection and smiling awkwardly at Lena. “Forgive me, Your Highness. My attention was elsewhere. What was that?”

“I said that you should retire for the evening. We’ll have an early morning, and you’ll need your rest.”

“But I—”

“Goodnight, Samantha, and sleep well,” Kara said, doubling down on the dose of royal concern.

“Of course.” Samantha eyed Alex with regret but bowed her head. “Enjoy your evening, Your Highness and Your Highness.” 

Samantha had only managed two steps away when Lena said, “Actually, Samantha, wait. There have been a number of concerning occurrences about the castle today. I’d prefer if you took an escort.” Her brows rose as she met Kara’s gaze and gestured with her head to the good captain.

It seemed Kara was more informed of the affection the other two women shared. She didn’t skip as beat, as she said, “I agree. It’s best not to go alone. Captain Danvers, would you please escort Lady Samantha. See that she gets to her destination safely.”

“It would be my pleasure, Your Highness.” Alex held out an arm. “My lady, may I?”

Lena smiled as the couple disappeared into the masses in attendance. Though her own destiny was out of her hands, perhaps she could steer Samantha toward some kind of happiness, no matter how fleeting it might be. 

“Ahem?” Kara held out her hand, that dangerously disarming smile still on her lips. “Now, how about that dance?”

Chapter Text

Lena was a vision, everything Kara ever could have hoped for and as good a dance partner as she was a sparring partner. They moved as a unit through each part of the dance, both intimately familiar with the workings of their own bodies and the agility of their partner in a way that translated to natural grace. It led Kara’s mind to wander to darker, more private places, as she wondered how else they might move together.

“You’re a marvelous dancer,” Kara said as they stepped in unison, the heat from Lena’s hand an inferno against her palm. 

“Only because I have a marvelous partner.” The timbre of Lena’s voice, rich and slightly husky, reverberated through Kara, promising things that weren’t voiced. “Who knew you could dance?”

“Well, I knew,” Kara chuckled, enjoying the way Lena’s eyes lit up and her cheeks colored at the sound. “If you had ever been interested in me for anything but a sparring partner, perhaps you would have known too.”

“Who said I’m not,” Lena said, “interested, I mean.”

“You… You are?” 

In Kara’s wildest dreams, she could never have hoped for such a response. In truth, some of her dreams were rather wild, so perhaps she had wished for this. To be inches from those enchanting green eyes without a visor obscuring her view, to press close to that perfect body without the resistance of steel, to breathe in that scent free from the sweat of battle and smelling of rose water was everything she had ever hoped for and more. 

Kara was known for her bravery on the battlefield, but love had always escaped her, or perhaps she it. Maybe it was time to face it down, to face down her own feelings and throw caution to the wind before it was too late. “Lena, I was thinking—”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“I’m serious.” When next they stepped together, Kara grasped her hand and held them both still. “I have an idea about tomorrow. It might be crazy but, so is this whole thing.” Lena just nodded, a small encouragement, but it was all Kara needed. “So, I was thinking—”

Trumpets interrupted them, and a herald announced a new entry into the tournament. A page stepped forward with a covered shield, which he hung in the spot left vacant by Sir James’ withdrawal. When the concealment was removed, it revealed the coat of arms of Daxam.

“What the hell?” Kara murmured.

“Kara.” Lena shook her head sharply.

“No, we’re getting to the bottom of this. Come on.” Kara strode across the hall, practically dragging Lena with her. In a far corner, with Lord Maxwell and Duke Morgan bookending him, was Mon-El who looked like he was struggling to swallow a live toad. “Mon-El,” Kara hissed as they arrived at the trio. “I would have a word with you. My lords, if you’d excuse us.”

With little more than his usual smirk, Maxwell bowed his head and stepped away, but Morgan moved closer and took Lena’s hand. “You look enchanting this evening, Your Highness, but you would look better on a real man’s arm.”

Lena pulled her hand back as if scalded, leaving his pursed lips to hover in the air over his own empty palm and balled up a fist at her side.

“Thank you for the advice, Duke Morgan,” Kara said, forcing a smile to her lips even as she took a half step between him and Lena. “If we happen upon a real man, we’ll take that under consideration. Have a good evening.”

Morgan departed, but the tension in his jaw and the departing sneer he tossed Kara’s way seemed a promise that their discussion wasn’t over. She had no doubt of that, but right now he wasn’t her priority.

As soon as they had a modicum of privacy, Kara rounded on Mon-El. “What do you think you’re doing? You said you weren’t competing.”

“It’s not my fault.” Hands held at shoulder height, Mon-El stepped back from the princess’ anger. “My mother forced my hand.”

“What do you mean, forced your hand?” Kara frowned. “Did she threaten you?”

“Of course. Have you not met my mother?”

Kara bit back that she’d had the misfortune and demanded, “How?”

“She… She threatened to take away that which I hold dearest.” Mon-El’s gaze drifted behind the ladies, and following the gesture across the crowded room led to Winn. The minstrel was singing, one foot resting on a chair as he plucked his lute to some ditty that left a group of young noble women tittering. “She said he was corrupting the nobility, that he was leading me astray.” With a resigned sigh, Mon-El muttered, “I wish.”

If the love shared by Duke Clark and Lady Lois were the first and second worst kept secrets in all the kingdoms, then Mon-El’s deep affection for his minstrel was the third. What had started as a childhood friendship had grown into a crush and in adulthood blossomed into so much more. Mon-El doted on the other man, smiling a little more brightly and laughing a little louder than any other at his bardic antics. Though there was the occasional rumor of emotions spilling into actions, it was generally accepted that the duo kept their interactions within the realm of the appropriate. That seemed all the proof Queen Rhea needed that her son neither had nor desired a dalliance with a mere servant. 

“There must be something we can do. This is a disaster,” Lena said, flinching at her own words and adding, “No offense.”

“None taken. I agree completely. I’d rather marry my horse than you.”

“Mon-El.” Kara shook her head, scowling as she tried desperately to stem whatever stupid thing Mon-El would say next.

“What? He's a great horse. Have you seen him?”

Before Kara could reproach him, Lena laid a gentle hand on Kara’s arm. “It’s fine. I’d rather he married his horse too. However, equine bridal parties notwithstanding, this is a pickle. How do we get out of it?”

“I have an idea,” Kara said.

“I could run away,” Mon-El said before Kara could elaborate on her plan. “I just need a little bit of gold, my horse, and Winn. We can become potato farmers.”

“And what do you know about farming?” Lena asked.

“What’s to know? It’s just a lot of digging. I’m good at digging. Oh, I can take my hounds! They’re great at digging.”

“Good Lord. Kara, tell me we have a better option than moving to the countryside with a menagerie to grow turnips.”

“Potatoes,” Mon-El said, making Kara grunt in aggravation.

“If you two would just stop fooling around and listen ...,” Kara started.

She was interrupted by a ruckus from one of the feasting tables. There was a loud groan from Sir Clark who clutched his gut and teetered in place. Even from this distance, the mossy hue of his skin was visible, and he swayed like a stiff breeze would knock him over. Indeed, when a nearby lord placed a hand on Clark’s shoulder, the knight collapsed to his knees.

Kara’s gaze swept the room. It was filled with many people, most with whom she only had a passing acquaintance. Any of them could be part of this scheme to fix the tournament in the favor of Daxam. Then she locked eyes with Lord Maxwell who raised his drink, his smarmy smile especially bright. The taunt only hardened her resolve.

“Lena, I have an idea, but it’s crazy. I need you to be okay with this.”

“If it gets me out of marrying Duke Morgan or Lord Maxwell, consider me on board. Anything would be better than that.”

“Anything?”

“Yes, anything. Sir Clark wouldn’t have been a bad option, but I’d bet my dowry he’s out of the running now. Even Mon-El would be better than either of those swamp dwellers. He’s a good man,” she glanced to where Mon-El was now speaking animatedly with Winn, tugging the minstrel away from his adoring fans and off to a quiet section of wall, “a dim one but a good man. He deserves better than being trapped in a loveless marriage for someone else’s political gain.”

“So do you,” Kara said, taking Lena’s hands. “You deserve to be with someone who loves you, someone who you could love back.”

“I wish it were that easy but— Kara. Kara!”

Kara was already gone, making good use of her long legs as she practically stormed through the hall to the nearest page. Her instructions to him were brief but clear, and he didn’t so much as blink as he ran off to execute them.

“What did you just do?” Lena asked, as she caught up to Kara.

“The right thing,” Kara replied, releasing a nervous chuckle. “My mother may not agree, but I was raised to be a woman of action. Passivity does not suit me.”

“Kara, don’t do anything to upset your mother. Whatever you’re planning—”

The trumpets blared, once again interrupting their discussion. The feasters watched with great interest as a page brought out yet another covered shield, but this time when the cloth was pulled back, a communal gasp filled the hall. There, in all its red, blue, and gold glory, stood the emblem of the kingdom of Krypton.

“I… I…” Lena stuttered, helpless in the face of this new information. “Kara, I—”

“Not here.” Kara took Lena’s arm and steered them away from the crowd. “Come with me.”

The exits were guarded by soldiers a bit too interested in Lena’s goings-on, so they headed down an alcove to find some privacy. It was quieter there and cooler, the heat of the assembled bodies and their conversations left behind for some blissful seclusion.

“Okay, this will do,” Kara said. 

“Don’t mix yourself up in this,” Lena implored.

But it was too late for that. Years of friendship and a growing something else had brought them to this place, and now that she’d stepped out of the shadows, there was no way she was going back. 

“I am mixed up in this,” Kara said, toying with the fingers on one of Lena’s hands. “You’re important to me.”

“You’re important to me too.”

Lena stroked her cheek, and Kara grasped that hand and held it fast in place.

“You’re my best friend.”

“And you’re mine,” Kara agreed. “You’re the most important person in my life, and I’m sorry it took me this long to say it, but I love—”

Normally, an interruption at such an emotionally charged moment would have upset Kara, but as Lena’s lips pressed against hers, Kara could only feel elation. How many idle fantasies, how many daydreams had begun this way? Yet none of them let Kara know how soft Lena’s lips would be, how Lena’s scent would leave Kara heady and swaying, detached from her body and still enjoying the ghostly remnants of the kiss even after it ended.

“Don’t say it,” Lena panted, her head pressed firmly against Kara’s. “We don’t know what tomorrow holds, so don’t say it.”

“That’s why I should say it. I may never get another chance to tell you how I feel, to ask you how you feel. There could be no tomorrow for us, so let us not waste tonight.”

“Kara I… I care so much about you, and I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. Maybe we could have stopped this whole thing from coming to pass.”

“No regrets,” Kara said. “I don’t want to talk about the past or the future, just the here and now.”

Kara leaned in for a second kiss, the second of what she planned to be a lifetime of kisses, but was stopped by a palm pressed firmly to her shoulder.

“Wait,” Lena said, tugging a handkerchief loose from her sleeve to wrap around Kara’s wrist. “If we’re going to do this, let’s do it right. I want you to wear my favor.”

Lena’s favor, a sign of approval and adoration. Knights would wear one on their wrist or belt, sometimes they’d tuck it into their quilted jacket, keeping the sign of their lady close to their heart as they rode into battle or competed in a tourney. This one smelled of Lena’s perfume, a scent that would surely cling to Kara for days, filling her senses and promising to fulfill her dreams.

“I’ll wear it next to my heart in the tourney, keeping you close to me.”

“How close?” Lena’s body pressed against Kara's, their combined heat somehow greater than all of the people in the hall combined yet their closeness not so oppressive. “This close?”

“No, this close.” 

This time, when she leaned in for the kiss, Kara was not denied. 

Kara had loved Lena for fully half of her life. She had loved thirteen-year-old Lena, who had taken offense at a guard’s cruelty to a peasant and, her true identity hidden, bested him in a duel in front of his fellows. She had loved fifteen year old Lena, who quoted the poetry of Christine de Pizan while going through her daily sword practice. She had loved twenty-year-old Lena, who had rushed into a burning stable to save the animals (much to the queen’s horror). She had loved Lena yesterday as they sparred, as each verbal jab and flat of the blade took the place of the words Kara so yearned to speak.

“I love you,” she breathed against Lena’s lips, kissing them again and again. “Always and forever, I love you.”

“And I you,” Lena replied, making Kara’s heart soar. “I was a fool not to see it sooner, not to see what was in front of me. Plate mail and the dust of the field should not have been enough to blind my heart to the truth.”

“No regrets,” Kara reminded her, planting another kiss on tender lips. “Tomorrow, when I win that tourney—”

“Kara?” A familiar voice hissed down the corridor. There was a tall man, the light to his back casting him as a shadow with obscured face, calling out. “Lena?”

“You have got to be kidding me.” Kara growled and took several hurried steps toward the intruder who was moving closer, but as he neared, a sconce illuminated his face. “Oh. James?”

“Hey, is Lena with you?” Lena stepped out of the darkness, and James frowned, his gaze bouncing back and forth between the two women. “What were you two doing down there?”

“Talking about embroidery,” Lena replied snidely. “What do you think?”

Whatever James thought, he proved wise enough not to voice it. “There’s been another accident.”

“How? Who’s even left?” Lena asked.

“Was it Sir William?” Though not a favorite for the tourney, he was an astute knight and a decent warrior. He also had honor and was someone Kara would gladly take fighting by her side in the tourney. “He didn’t show up for the feast. I haven’t seen him for hours.”

“No one has.”

“That’s probably not a good thing,” Lena said.

“Probably,” James agreed, “but that’s not why I’m here. Mon-El has been hurt.”

“But… but he was just here.” Kara moved to the edge of the alcove, studying the crowd, and indeed, Mon-El was missing. Winn was also rather noticeably absent.

“This makes no sense,” Lena said. “Doesn’t taking Mon-El out of the tournament ruin their whole plan?”

“Whose plan?” James asked.

“Um…” Kara looked to Lena, but the frown and miniscule headshake made her opinion on sharing what they knew with anyone else clear. “Don’t worry about it, James. Where’s Mon-El?”

“He and Winn were taken back to the physician’s quarters.”

“Is Winn hurt too?” Lena asked.

“Just some cuts and bruises, but Mon-El got kicked in the head by his horse. He’s sporting quite the goose egg on his forehead.”

“We need to look into this,” Kara said, taking Lena’s hand and heading into the hall and toward an exit with James following along. “Something isn’t right. If Winn was there when Mon-El was hurt, maybe he can shed some light on this situation.”

“Good thinking.” They reached the door, pausing as Lena’s guards assembled. “If Winn saw or heard someone, something I can bring to my mother, maybe we can sort this all out.”

Before they could leave, they were approached by one of the pages from Lena’s household. “Your Highness, the queen requests your presence,” a page said, adding, “immediately,” when Lena made to protest.

“Damn it,” Lena muttered as she eyed the guards who wouldn’t hesitate to follow the queen’s orders over Lena’s wishes. “Kara, I need to—”

“Go. Go.” Kara released Lena’s hand with a final squeeze. “I’ll check on Mon-El, and you go see what your mother wants.”

“Probably to talk to me about you,” she smiled, reflecting Kara’s cocky grin. “Get me an update on Mon-El. I want to know how he is.”

“Within the hour.” Kara glanced back one more time, smiled at those green eyes that crinkled up at her before Lena was surrounded by guards and ushered out.

“What’s going on?” James asked as they crossed the bailey toward Querl’s residence. “You two are acting mighty suspicious.”

“That’s because—” Kara eyed James’ arm which was splinted and wrapped in bandages. It was the kind of injury that would ache in the cold nights of winter and haunt James in old age, assuming the knight lived that long. “That’s because we don’t think all of these accidents are accidents. Someone is getting rid of the competition between themselves and Lena.”

James didn’t respond at first, but his brow creased and the general mood heavy as he considered her words. “Maxwell or Morgan?”

“Yes,” she chuckled, dry and without humor. “They’re working together.”

“Does Queen Kieran know?”

“We have no evidence, James, and we think someone else is directing their actions. Without undeniable proof, we can’t make an accusation against this person.”

“Who? Who is so powerful that together you and Lena—”

She rounded on him, a hand to his chest stopping their forward motion and the conversation. “Don’t. You don’t want to kick this beehive. The stings are nasty.”

“I think I’ve already been stung.” He patted his arm, grimacing at the contact. “Anyway, I’m not scared.”

“Of course, you’re not. Look, after the tourney, I’ll tell you what I know. Right now, let’s just make sure Mon-El is okay.”

“Fine, but I’m holding you to that,” he said.

Mon-El was semi-conscious when they arrived. His head was swollen, the imprint of a horse’s shoe clear on his rather generous forehead. Winn sat by his side, cut up and dirty, holding a cloth in place to slow the blood that seeped down Mon-El’s skull and onto the sheets below.

As bad as James and even Jack’s injuries had been, a kick from a warhorse could kill a man. Whoever was behind this, assuming it wasn’t an accident (which seemed likely given the trend), had just tried to kill the prince of Daxam, the heir to the crown. The culprits seemed clear, though it was impossible for Queen Rhea to be involved this time. It looked as if her co-conspirators had gone rogue.

“What happened to him?” Kara asked.

“He was saddling his horse when it went berserk and kicked him,” Winn replied. “I tried to get him out, but he’s heavy. I could only drag him to the corner of the stall.”

“Winn shielded Mon-El with his body,” James said. “The stableboys who led the horse off said he probably saved Mon-El’s life.”

Kara reached down, squeezing Winn’s shoulder. It was little comfort in this moment, but outside of seeing that those who did this were brought to justice, it was all she could do. “Hey, you’re a hero, Winn.”

He shook his head, his gaze never leaving Mon-El. “I just did my duty to my prince. If anything were to happen to him, I don’t… I don’t know what I would do.”

“Are you an angel?” Mon-El muttered, reaching up toward Winn’s face but only fanning the air between them with his uncoordinated motions. “You sing like an angel.”

“Like a guardian angel,” Kara said, giving the minstrel’s shoulder a final squeeze. “So, my little cherub, what happened? Was anyone else there?”

“Some workers, but they were at the other end of the barn. Mon-El was…”

“Go on,” Kara encouraged. “You’re among friends.”

“Mon-El wanted to leave. He asked me to join him in the stable and then told me some crazy plan about potatoes and dogs. I really couldn’t follow it too clearly, but I think he wanted to run off.”

“And avoid a political marriage.” 

Kara probably should have seen that coming. Though brave on the field of battle, Mon-El lacked a strategian’s mind and foresight. He was given to impetuous acts, one of which apparently was trying to escape his responsibilities as prince and run off with his beloved minstrel. It would have been a wonderful tale of love, the kind of thing Winn would sing about, if it wasn’t so incredibly dumb.

“No one did anything to the horse?” Kara questioned. “Winn, if you saw anything—”

“Nothing, I swear. I was trying to follow the prince’s ramblings, and the next thing I knew, he was on the ground, and a sixteen hand destrier was trying to stomp him into mud.” It was an unfortunate tale, one for which Winn had provided a happy ending through his interference. War horses were battled trained to stomp downed foes. Set off as he was, anyone on the ground by his feet was unlikely to survive. “There is one thing though. The horse was rearing up, and his saddle was only set loosely on his back, so it fell off. That calmed him, and the stable boys were able to pull the horse out and get Mon-El to the physician.”

Kara nodded, leaving Winn to his prince and encouraging James to a private conversation near the door. “So someone did something to his saddle. We should get a look at it, but I need to report back to Lena first.”

“I’ll go to the stable as soon as I get some willow bark for the ache in my arm.”

“Thank you, James.”

“Not at all. Just remember what you promised.”

“Tomorrow. You have my word,” she said, as she headed back out into the cool night air, but she didn’t get far. Someone waited there just outside the residence. It was just a child, a local peasant holding up a small slip of parchment. “For me?”

He nodded and ran off before she could ask who had sent the note, but even in the dim lighting, that answer seemed clear enough.

“Kara,

    Things are worse than I thought. Meet me at the hedge maze at once. I’ll tell you everything.

Love,

    Lena.”

Not surprisingly, Lena’s summons to the queen seemed to have brought with it some alarming news, but Kara barely skimmed that part, as her gaze was drawn to one word: love. Just tonight they had spoken that word to each other between shared kisses. She folded up the slip of paper, the first of many notes declaring their love, and tucked it up her sleeve. It seemed she had a private meeting with the princess of her dreams.

The hedge maze was an elaborate construction of foliage, planted under the direction of Lena’s great-grandfather and tended lovingly by the royal gardeners. As children, Lena and Kara had often played hide-and-seek among the growth. Though Lena had the advantage, being the local, Kara had proven to be a quick study with a keen sense of direction. It seemed only appropriate that one of the places that held so many cherished memories would now be the site of their first rendezvous.

Kara quickly wound her way through the tamed forestry, turning left and right without error until she reached the center. There, seated on one of the viewing benches and wrapped in a heavy cloak, Lena awaited her.

“Lena,” Kara whispered, her pace quickening as she approached her love. “I got your note and—” But as she reached the figure and grasped it by the shoulder, it toppled over backward to reveal the scarecrow underneath the fabric. “What in the—”

A leaden weight crashed into her skull, and Kara fell to her hands and knees while stars danced in her vision. She was vaguely aware of voices around her and hands grabbing her body, dragging her off. She heard the whinneys of horses, and then blissful unconsciousness swallowed her and her pain.

Chapter Text

The lover’s moon sat teasingly low in the sky, seemingly just out of reach of Samantha, as she perched on the back of Alex’s Andalusian. Her right front side pressed to the captain’s back, one arm looped around a slender waist and held close by Alex’s hand. It was a cool night, not cold but brisk, but between the cloak wrapped around her shoulders and the captain’s body in front of her, Samantha found her flesh warmed and her spirit soaring.

As they reached a familiar grove, one which they had visited again and again, one that had been favored by couples throughout the years, Alex pulled the horse to a halt and dismounted. Gloves removed and tucked into her belt, she held her hands high, grasping Samantha by the waist and helping the lady to the ground. Even that touch was thrilling, an action verging on the forbidden, but when Alex stepped closer and not away, Samantha couldn’t contain the quick intake of air.

“Might I steal a kiss from the woman who has stolen my heart?” Alex asked.

Samantha swallowed an eager ‘yes’ that made to leap out of her mouth. She turned her head, not trusting what she would say, what she might encourage, if she spoke with the captain’s lovely face captured in her gaze. “It wouldn’t be proper.”

"And what does our love know of propriety? Secret glances, a subtle brush of fingers, private messages delivered trough the most trusted of allies, yes, these it knows." Alex traced a fingertip along Samantha's cheek to the edge of her neck, setting off a wave of shivers. "Though I swear upon my father's grave that I would do right by you were it in my power, the world too seldom gives us what we most want, and when left alone with my thoughts of you, decorum fails me."

Samantha’s cheeks were ablaze at the admission, and she was grateful that even with the full moon in the sky, the thick forest deflecting the illumination was sure to disguise her blush. “Alex, you shouldn’t say such things.”

“Why not? They’re true.”

Still, Sam refused to meet Alex’s eye. Their affair of the heart (though not body) was forbidden, and worse, their shared carnal desires seemed harder and harder to deny each time they met. The winters spent in Krypton when her lady went to visit Kara was the sweetest torture, and the summers when Lady Kara came to town with Alex in tow threatened madness if action wasn’t taken. Though Samantha knew it was best to end this, though she repeatedly promised herself she would do so when next they met, eyes as brown as an oak’s trunk and arms just as strong proved effective distractions. 

Samantha voiced none of this and simply replied, “You're a soldier.”

“It’s a good and honest profession.”

“And a dangerous one. I’ve already lost one spouse. I was fortunate to be offered this position with the royal family. It’s given me safety and security, but more importantly, it’s guaranteed my daughter a decent life. Her training in etiquette and a lady’s responsibilities is going well. One day, she’ll make an excellent lady-in-waiting to the princess’ daughter.”

“Ruby, of course,” Alex said, moving back at the invocation of the child’s name, “she’s a wonderful child.” 

Alex’s caring words caused Sam to meet her gaze. As strong as the captain was, she was equally gentle. She had her father’s strength, which she had proven in more than one battle, and her mother’s kindness. Seeing Ruby perched on Alex’s shoulders or just walking with Alex hand in hand was nearly enough to make Samantha declare something reckless, but she always stopped… barely.

No sooner had Alex stepped away than Samantha found herself yearning for the contact again. “Alex, wait I— You understand how I feel, don’t you? I wish things were different.”

“If wishes were fishes, we would all eat like queens.” Though the words were said with humor, a grin painting her lips, Alex’s eyes didn’t reflect her smile.

Wishes indeed. If it was as simple as wishing, Samantha would have lain out night after night, searching for a shooting star to make her dreams come true, but it wasn’t that simple. The world was a complex place filled with disappointment, not the least of which was finding the perfect woman and being denied by society’s rules. 

“True,” Samantha said with a chuckle, “but that doesn’t stop me from wishing, and I wish—”

“Shhh,” Alex said, raising a hand for silence.

“Excuse me?”

“Do you hear that?” Alex’s gaze swept left and right in the direction of the road.

“I don’t hear anything. Are you sure…” There it was, hoofbeats and a lot of them, moving fast. Alex took off toward the road, and Samantha struggled to follow in the dim light and across the rooty ground. She arrived just as the first of a group of riders surged by them.

There were a good dozen men on horseback with an unmanned horse in their midst. On the riderless horse’s back, strapped to the saddle with thick rope, was a wrapped bundle… a decidedly person-sized bundle.

With Alex’s arm pressing her back from the road as a further signal of danger, Samantha waited until the last rider was nothing more than a kicked up cloud of dust to ask, “Did they have a body strapped to that horse?”

“Definitely. I saw a hand sticking out from under the blanket,” Alex replied, already heading back to the grove and forcing Samantha to struggle to follow once again. “I’ve got to go after them.”

“Alone?” Alex was outnumbered a dozen to one, and though Samantha trusted in the captain’s battle prowess, those were ridiculous odds. “You can’t be serious.”

Alex threw her leg over the saddle and turned the speckled gray horse toward the road. “I don’t have time to argue with you. Something has been going on. Contestants are dropping like flies. That could be a noble.”

Thoughts of Lena rushed to Samantha, making her heart quicken, but the princess was surrounded by guards under the queen’s orders. There was no one safer in the whole castle than the headstrong young woman.

“Give me your hand,” Alex said, reaching down to Samantha. “I’ll bring you to the gate, and you can raise the alarm.”

“You’ll lose their trail. Leave me. I can return to the castle on foot.”

“I can’t just—”

“Go!” Samantha waved her hands at the captain, urging Alex away. “I’ve walked a few miles before, and the road is right there. I won’t get lost.”

“Samantha I—”

Samantha took Alex’s gloved hand, pressing it to her lips. “Someone needs your help. Go.”

With a nod of her head and a kick of her heels, Alex urged the horse forward and out of the grove. By the time Samantha reached the road, not even the dusty evidence of Alex’s passing remained.

It was a mile or two back to the castle, not so long a walk for someone with better shoes, but Samantha’s slippers had been made for dancing in the hall, not struggling along wagon wheel rutted ground. When the castle’s glowing torches came into view, they were a welcome sight but not the end of her journey. She alerted the guard, who quickly organized to send a group after Alex and then headed in search of the princess. It seemed Lena was still locked in discussion with the queen, something Samantha normally would not disturb, but this wasn’t a normal situation.

“Tell Her Majesty it’s an emergency,” Samantha told one of the guards at the door, and within a minute, she was let inside.

“Who’s hurt now?” Lena said as greeting, her eyes widening as her gaze swept up and down Samantha. “What happened to you? You look—”

“Just tired,” Samantha replied, as she rose from her curtsey. “Someone's been taken, abducted.”

“Who?” Queen Kieran asked.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but that I don’t know. Captain Danvers and I saw a group of riders on the road fleeing from the direction of the castle. There was a bundle, a body we think, strapped to one of the horses. The captain gave chase, and I hurried back to the castle to rouse the guard and report to you.”

“You were outside the castle?” the queen asked.

Samantha hesitated to answer. Though there was no restriction against that, the answer was sure to inspire further questions about her actions and her company. Technically, no rules of etiquette had been breached, but appearance was important, and Samantha’s reputation could reflect poorly on the future queen. This was hardly news to her, but this was the first time she’d been faced with addressing this head on, and with the queen no less.

“Kara was supposed to check on Mon-El and get back to me on his condition over an hour ago,” Lena said, rising, interrupting Samantha’s reflection and saving her from an unfortunate bout of honesty. “She wouldn’t be tardy like this, especially not now. Something’s wrong.”

“Lena, do not do anything rash,” the queen urged.

“I just need to know she’s alright, Mother. I need to speak to her... please.”

The queen nodded once but added, “No leaving the castle.”

Lena headed for the door, and Samantha dropped a quick curtsey before following her lady. They were halfway down the hallway with a small group of guards trailing behind them when Lena asked, “You’re certain it was a person?”

“Captain Danvers saw a hand slip free from under the covering. I trust her judgment in these matters.”

“As do I,” Lena said, “and for what it’s worth, I approve.”

“Oh, no.” Samantha shook her head, hurrying out her words. “It’s nothing like that. We were just enjoying the night air. It’s so crowded in the castle right now and—”

Lena grabbed her hand, stopping them both. “Samantha, you don’t need to explain yourself to me. I only want your happiness. Does the captain make you happy?”

A ‘yes,’ died on her lips, as she forced herself to speak from reality and not passion. “She’s a commoner. It wouldn’t be proper.”

“As if that should matter,” Lena said, picking up the pace again, as they headed down the front staircase. “Trust me on this, Samantha. We only get one life. Marry for love.”

“The queen would not approve. The queen—”

“Will not always be queen. One day these will be my lands.” 

“Then I think you would appreciate, Your Highness, my loyalty and obedience to the crown.”

It was a circular argument, one that would take them looping through layers of love and loyalty again and again. It was a discussion Samantha had had with herself on more than one occasion, and each time it brought her back to the same place. Her place in the court had many privileges, but freedom to love the person she chose was not among them.

“Then we’ll discuss this another time, one when you can show both loyalty to the crown and heed my advice.”

“Not for a long time, I hope, for the sake of the queen’s health.”

“Agreed.”

On the way to the royal physician, the first of their stops, Lena grabbed several pages and sent them to different ends of the castle grounds in the search for Kara. In Querl’s quarters, she found Mon-El resting and Winn drowsing in a chair by his side. They hadn’t seen Kara in over an hour but sent her to James. Unfortunately, though he was able to shed some light on Kara’s last whereabouts, it wasn’t good news.

“She was on her way to see you,” James said. “I stayed behind to get something for the ache in my arm and then went to the stable to try and find out something about Mon-El’s accident.”

“How long ago was this?” Lena asked.

“Over an hour ago.”

Lena visibly tensed, and Sam reached out, laying a comforting hand on her lady’s shoulder. Lena and Kara had been the best of friends since childhood, the duo inseparable whenever the other was visiting. Samantha hadn’t given it much thought as her attention was regularly captured by a certain soldier during those times, but there was a tightness to Lena’s jaw and a quickness in her step that spoke to just how close the ladies were.

“Did something happen to Kara?” James asked.

“We don’t know yet. As soon as we know for certain, we’ll let you know,” Lena replied.

“I’d appreciate that.”

They were at the door before Lena turned with a final question. “James, did you find anything at the stable?”

“I did. There were several large burrs stuck to the underside of his saddle.” 

“That’s… peculiar,” Lena said. “How would they get there in the stable unless…” 

Nothing else was said, but James and Lena exchanged nods that were heavy with implication.

In an unoccupied building outside the castle proper, Lena allowed her pages to regroup and inform her of what they had discovered or in this hadn’t. It came as no surprise, at this point, when none of them could locate Kara. 

“Who would dare kidnap the princess of Krypton?” Samantha asked in hushed tones even though the pages had been dismissed, and she and Lena now stood alone. “If they get caught, the action carries a death sentence.”

“Or starts a war,” Lena murmured as if to herself.

“A war? But who…” It was like trying to put together a puzzle with a piece or two missing. Samantha rolled the facts over and over again in her mind, but still, the full picture didn’t become clear. Lord Maxwell and Duke Morgan were up to no good, and although neither man lacked ambition, even if they combined their resources, they lacked the power to stand against Éire. They might be unchivalrous scoundrels, but they weren’t suicidal. “Your Highness, I don’t understand. Who is behind this?”

For several moments, Lena was tight-lipped and unspeaking. It lasted long enough for Samantha to give up on getting an answer, but it seemed her surrender was premature.

“Queen Rhea of Daxam.”

Queen Rhea? Now there was a woman who had enough ambition for her entire kingdom. Rumors abounded of her desire to grow her kingdom beyond its already considerable reach. Servants jokingly called her ‘Dreaming Empress’ when they thought no one was around to overhear, but keeping an ear to chatter was one of many unwritten duties that Samantha took very seriously. Though the underhanded power grab was Rhea’s modus operandi, there was still one thing that made no sense.

“But Mon-El was hurt and is out of the tourney. Queen Rhea would never endanger her only son like that, and with him gone, she has nothing to gain. She couldn’t be behind this.”

“Behind Mon-El being injured? No. Behind the rest of what’s going on? Definitely.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Queen Rhea made one mistake, one many miscreants make. She involved herself with others of low moral character. There is no honor among thieves, after all.”

“You mean…” Samantha found herself nodding along with Lena as another puzzle piece snapped into place. With Queen Rhea’s backing, Lord Maxwell and Duke Morgan had gotten themselves into a position to vie for Lena’s hand and the kingdom that came along with it. No doubt, Rhea’s goal was for Mon-El to win the tourney and the princess, but the men’s aspirations were too great to be sated by with the promise that Rhea would bestow favor upon them, their egos too great to purposefully fall to Mon-El in the melee. “So if Duke Morgan and Lord Maxwell have turned against Queen Rhea’s interests, they were the ones behind Princess Kara’s kidnapping.”

“Perhaps, but they acted on Queen Rhea’s orders.”

“But no they…” No matter how she tried, Samantha couldn’t bring the full picture into focus. “Your Highness, I adore you, but you need to take pity on me. I can’t keep up with your quick mind on a good night, and this one is far from that.”

“Forgive me my covert attempts, Samantha. I suppose the political apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. You see, I was called away from the celebration tonight to take part in a discussion between my mother and Queen Rhea.” Hands clasped behind her back, Lena paced a wide circle. It was a pensive habit Samantha had seen before, but the stakes had never been higher. “She wanted to change the rules of the tourney.”

“Queen Rhea?”

Lena nodded. “Instead of the tourney winner marrying me, the queen requested that the tourney winner have the right to marry me or choose my noble betrothed.”

“That’s… highly unusual. Queen Kieran refused, of course.”

“She accepted, much to my distress. Queen Rhea pointed out that Mon-El would make for a more suitable husband and assured my mother that she could… convince the tournament winner to name him in their stead.”

There it was, the final piece of the puzzle, snapping into place. Each detail of the elaborately woven tapestry of deceit and misdeeds became clear. It was a convoluted and immoral scheme to land someone by Lena’s side. It would have been almost complimentary if it weren’t so distasteful. 

“Well, Prince Mon-El isn’t the worst choice.” Samantha winced at the lack of sincerity in her own voice. “I mean, he’s a decent if deliberate man of good moral character… surprisingly good, all things considered. He’s a better choice than either of the other two.”

“True, though that’s not hard, but he deserves better.”

“Your Highness, no. Mon-El would be blessed to have you as his wife. His kingdom will fare far better under your rule than without it.”

“Thank you for your kind and moral words, Samantha, but I meant that he deserves better than a loveless marriage… and so do I.”

That statement was a box of snakes that Samantha had no intention of opening, so instead she asked, “What now?”

“There’s only one thing to do now, obviously,” Lena said, turning her back on Samantha, rushing outside, and striding across the courtyard. It roused into action the guards who had waited outside, as they formed a perimeter around the princess but far enough away to avoid her steely gaze and possible wrath.

“Obviously,” Samantha agreed, finding herself once again a day late and a denarius short. She hurried after her lady, her mind racing to navigate the complex maze of intrigue which Lena seemed to maneuver with ease, but coming to dead end after dead end. “Alright, I have no idea what you’re planning. What’s the next step?”

“It’s a three step plan, actually,” Lena said, counting off each one on her hand. “One: I save Kara. Two: Kara wins the tourney. Three: We live happily ever after.” 

“Princess Kara wins the—” Samantha came to a sudden halt in the middle of the courtyard, her body stopping as her mind seized up at this latest revelation. If Kara won the tourney, and Kara and Lena lived happily ever after then that meant… that meant… This convoluted plot had more layers than one of those nesting dolls from across the sea, each opening to reveal yet another version of itself. 

Samantha was still flat-footed when a guard brushed by her with a quiet, “M’lady,” spurring her back into action.

“I’m sorry, what did you say about Princess Kara winning the tourney?” Samantha asked as she practically ran up on Lena.

“Right, right. You were off doing who knows what with a certain redheaded captain and missed that bit,” Lena said with a wave of her hand. The comment nearly garnered a defensive rebuttal, but there was no way Samantha was going to up-end the apple cart of this conversation, so she held her tongue. “Kara added her shield to the lists tonight. It surprised even me and no doubt led to this hastily planned and sloppy kidnapping which will be the rapscallions' undoing.”

Samantha had several questions. Did Queen Kieran know? Did Queen Alura know? Was this move born strictly from politics, friendship, or was there a romantic undertone, and if there was, for how long had that been going on (and why hadn’t she noticed)? She wouldn’t have the opportunity to voice any of these, for as they approached the stable, two guards outside of it stepped sideways toward each other and crossed their halberds, blocking entry. 

“Move,” Lena demanded, all civility gone from her voice.

“I’m sorry, Your Highness, but the queen ordered us to bar anyone from entering the stable.”

“She didn’t mean me,” Lena said, waving her hand around. “Now move.”

The two guards exchanged a brief look, and then the one who had spoken before took a shuffling step forward. “Forgive us, Your Highness, but she mentioned you by name. We were ordered specifically to keep you from taking a horse out, and the guards at the gate were given similar orders to keep you inside. The queen has ordered you restricted to the castle grounds.”

An honest to goodness growl rumbled through Lena’s chest. It was rather surprising that steam didn’t spout from her ears as she stared down the unfortunate guards who delivered the news. There were several heart pounding moments as the princess merely stood there seething, hovering on the precipice of disobeying her mother’s orders and seeing what the consequences would be, but then she spun with an exclamation of, “We’ll see about this!” before marching back toward the castle.

“Your Highness, wait,” Samantha said as she trotted alongside the furious princess. “Your mother may be right. This could be a trap, an attempt to lure you away from the castle and your guards. For all we know, you could be the real target.”

“Then it worked,” Lena replied, her jaw tight and teeth grinding, “because if Captain Danvers doesn’t come back with Kara, hardy and healthy, I won’t stop until I have found the people responsible and personally made them pay.”

Chapter Text

Two of the bandits had dropped back to face off with Alex, which had proved to be the last mistake they’d ever make. As a captain in the Kryptonian royal army and daughter of the late General Jeremiah, Alex was one of the most talented and best trained fighters in the kingdom. Two poorly trained mercenaries, even at the same time, had hardly been a challenge. However, they did delay her enough that she had lost the rest of their group.

She’d been riding hard and unburdened by armor or an unwilling passenger, and her steed was of superior breeding, so when she hadn’t caught up to them within a few miles, it had seemed clear that they’d left the main road for one of the side trails. Finding hoofprints in the underbrush in the dark was a tricky thing, but Alex was patient and meticulous in her process. Within half an hour, she’d picked up signs of some freshly broken branches and headed off the trail to follow them. Of course, this had meant slowing her horse down to a walk and even dismounting at times to search for markers. It had also meant that unless one of the guards that Samantha had alerted was the tracker Alex was, which was unlikely, she’d be on her own. This thought had been almost enough to drive her back to the road to wait for reinforcements, but with a kidnapping victim at risk and threatening clouds gathering that could bring rain to wash out the trail, time was of the essence, so she’d soldiered forward.

The morning sun had just breached the horizon, igniting the sky with fiery red and orange streaks, when Alex discovered the cottage in the clearing. She tied her horse further back in the forest, hidden from prying eyes, and reconnoitered the area. The home was dark and quiet, but wisps of smoke (which in part had led her here) streaming from the chimney showed the presence of inhabitants. However, it was in the barn that Alex had success. Tied to a weight bearing post was Kara, anger radiating from the princess who grunted and struggled against her bonds. Nearby was Sir William, unconscious and trussed up like a Christmas turkey.

“Your Highness,” Alex whispered, as she hurried across the barn to the captured royal. Kara’s eyes widened, but not a word was uttered as Alex pulled her belt knife and made short work of the rope.

“Alex, thank God you’re here,” Kara said, rubbing her wrists and flexing limbs that were doubtless stiff and numb from hours of restraint. “How did you find me?”

“I’m actually surprised it was you, Your Highness. Lady Samantha and I saw riders fleeing the castle with a person-shaped bundle, and with the rumors of unsavory actions against competitors in the tourney—”

“You’ve heard those?”

“I don’t spread rumors, Your Highness, but I do listen for stirrings that might interest the crown. I don’t understand why you were taken.”

“Because last night, I entered the tourney.”

“Oh.” Alex blinked and processed this latest information. Wanting to protect Lena from a marriage to one of the less savory contestants made sense, but in entering the tourney, Kara had declared herself a suitor for Lena’s hand…. A fact of which Kara was doubtless aware. This was sure to send ripples through the kingdoms starting with the monarchs themselves. “Does the queen know?”

“Give me your knife.”

That non-answer was everything Alex needed to know. It was a reminder of something else Alex’s father used to say about it sometimes being easier to get forgiveness than permission. 

“It looks like I’m not the only one to run afoul of these troublemakers.” Kara cut loose the downed knight who remained unresponsive. “He’s out cold, drugged I think. We’ll need a cart to transport him.”

“I saw a wagon to the side of the house along with the bandits’ horses. If we’re quiet, we can—”

Alex spun, the shuffle of a shoe on the ground alerting her that they weren’t alone. With little room to spare, she drew her sword and deflected the overhead chop that had been aimed at her head then planted her boot in the man’s torso, forcing him back with a one-legged push and giving herself room to maneuver.  

“The prisoner is escaping!” the man yelled, taking another swipe that Alex deftly blocked. His next words came out as little more than a gurgle, as she ran him through, shoving him from her blade to fall to the ground, his soul swiftly departing his body.

“Damn it.” Footsteps pounded in their direction, not exactly a stampede but more than Alex cared to face alone. Even a lack of skill could be made up for with overwhelming numbers.  With the tip of her foot, she scooped the downed bandit’s sword, tossed it in the air, caught it with her off hand, and spun. “Kara!” That was all the warning she gave before tossing the sword to the princess, but it was caught deftly, evening the odds somewhat. “Look lively. We have company.”

Outnumbered six to one, it was the classic battle of skill versus raw power. The odds evened slightly when four of the bandits were downed in the first few seconds, and their remaining number took on a more cautious plan of attack. Attempts to flank them proved fatal, as the ladies switched foes with a word, Kara momentarily back to back with Alex before spinning to new foes and running one through.

It became a merry little dance, that kind that could have been enjoyable if the stakes weren’t so high. Cut and slash, block and parry, Alex and Kara worked in unison to whittle down the number of their foes. Thankfully, regular practice kept their stamina high, and soon they were down to a final bandit each… or so it seemed until an arrow streaked by Alex’s head, missing her by inches but striking someone behind her with a sickening grunt.

“Your Highness!” Alex yelled as she dropped her opponent and spun, cutting into the arm of the man prepared to strike a staggering Kara. When his sword dropped to the hay covered floor, Alex grabbed his wounded arm and spun him around her just in time. The next arrow struck him squarely in the back, killed by his own fellow. With a smooth motion, Alex snagged the dagger from his belt as he fell and flung it halfway the length of the barn. It struck the archer dead center, and then he struck the ground.

A quick scan of her surroundings showed no more attackers, and she strained her ears, struggling to hear over her own heaving breath, but no one else came.

“You’re wounded,” she said, gripping Kara’s shoulder and steadying the princess.

“It’s only a flesh wound.”

“There’s an arrow in your side. That’s more than flesh, Your Highness.”

Indeed, Kara’s blue dress was streaked with a spreading patch of her own blood, and an arrow stood out from her side. It was close to the surface, perhaps one of her ribs doing its job and protecting her from a more serious wound. Still, it was nasty and bleeding profusely. Worse yet, the point was still within the flesh.

“I’ll need to push it through.”

Kara just nodded and took the leather belt Alex handed off, but when the captain snapped the end of the arrow, she grasped Alex’s shoulder. “Don’t tell my mother.”

Alex controlled her eye roll… barely. “I think this will be a bit hard to hide. Are you ready?”

With the belt gripped between her teeth, Kara nodded, and Alex pushed. The flesh gave way, and Kara paled and nearly swooned, going slack in Alex's arms.

“Are you alright?”

Kara blinked several times, her eyes unfocused. Then she managed a small grin. “Never better.”

“Liar,” Alex said, unable to stop the word from slipping out, but Kara didn’t seem to take offense. An open wound in one’s side tends to be a priority. “Let me get a field dressing on this, and then let’s get you back to the castle. People will be worried.”

“I need to get back in time for the tourney.”

“Your Highness, I don’t think—” Piercing blue eyes stared her down, and Alex nodded. “Of course. I’ll get the wagon as soon as you’re patched up.”

“Thank you,” Kara said while Alex ripped up a shirt from one of the bandits to make a makeshift bandage. “You saved my life you know. I won’t forget that.”

“It’s my honor to serve.”

“I’m serious, Alex. I have an entire squad of soldiers back at the castle, but you showed up here alone. You saved my life. General Jeremiah would be proud.”

Alex swallowed hard at the invocation of her father’s name, her hands trembling a bit more than could be explained by the after-battle jitters. He’d been a great man, a hero of many battles, and an advisor to the king and queen. Alex’s greatest hope was that when General J’onn retired, she might earn the right to bear the rank her father wore with such honor. He’d once told her the name Danvers was synonymous with respect, something she’d be given without question and had best never lose, as it was difficult to earn back. She lived her life every day in service, meaning never to need to do so.

Pushing thoughts of her father away, Alex wrapped the strips of cloth around Kara’s side, holding the bundled fabric in place to stanch the bleeding. “Let’s just get you back to the castle and find out who was behind this.”

“And then let’s see justice done by my sword.”

Alex couldn’t agree more.

Getting William in the cart wasn’t easy. He was a large man and a dead weight, but a wheelbarrow proved a helpful aid in the process.

“I’m telling Sir William you tossed him around like a sack of flour,” Kara said from her seat in the back of the cart.

“I wish he was as light as a… ugh… sack of flour.” Alex pushed the knight off her shoulder, his torso landing none too gently with a thud against the wooden base. “You don’t have to tell him about that.”

“Oh, I’m telling him. I’ll even suggest he change his coat of arms to a wheelbarrow. Do you think Winn will write a song about this for us?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Stopping him will be the trick. Are you ready to go?”

“Yes, and hurry. The sun is up. We don’t have much time.”

Alex kept a steady pace on the way back to the castle, ignoring Kara’s urges to go faster. Kara’s health and safety were her top priority, not intervening in a tourney for Lena’s hand. If they arrived too late, Kara was welcome to kick her ass (as was threatened) for it later. She welcomed that opportunity, for it would mean her liege was well.

They were met by guards at the gate who quickly waved them through upon seeing Kara and William in the back. William was collected by his squire, and Alex helped Kara to her tent on the side of the tourney field. Music carried from the combat ring, signaling that the melee hadn’t yet started.

“What happened to you?” James asked, as Alex helped Kara to a chair.

“You should see the other guys.” Kara’s smile faltered when she grimaced, but she quickly pushed it back into place. “Seriously, they’re dead but enough chit-chat. What’s going on out there?”

“It’s Winn. He’s ad libbing an epic song to Lena, stalling until you got back, but it doesn’t look like you can—”

“I can fight,” Kara said, struggling to her feet and swaying slightly before she recentered. “Where’s my squire? Alex, help me out of this dress. I have a tourney to win.”

“Your Highness… Kara, no offense,” James said, “but you can barely stand. The only nobles left who haven’t been injured or dropped out for some unknown reason are Morgan and Maxwell. You know they’ll team up on you. They’ll kill you.” Without hesitation, James stepped forward. “I’ll fight by your side.”

“You can’t lift a sword,” Kara said.

“But I can lift a shield. I can stand up to one of them long enough for you to take on the other. I may only be half a knight right now, but I’m still twice the man of those miscreants.”

“What happened?” 

Lena burst in and rushed across the tent to Kara, hands reaching out to the blood-soaked cloth. Alex stepped back, allowing the other royal access. With luck, and perhaps a bit of divine intervention, Lena would be able to talk Kara out of this madness.

“You’re hurt. Who did this?”

“No one who will ever hurt anyone again,” Kara said while Lena stroked her face. “I’m fine.”

“Hardly. There’s no way you can fight.”

“Lena, I—”

“No, Kara, while I appreciate the effort, it’s not worth your life.”

“It is to me,” Kara replied. “Anyway, I have a right to enter. You can’t stop me.”

“You’re right,” Lena said, the glint in her eye the only warning before she added, “but I can stop him. Sir James, I forbid you from taking part in the tourney.”

James hesitated for only a moment before dropping his head. “Yes, Your Highness.”

“That’s not fair, Lena. I need James by my side.”

“Not where you’re going,” Lena replied. “Sir James, fetch the physician and have a cot brought in. Her Highness needs to rest.”

Alex stood awkwardly to the side, as James left, and the two royals glared at each other. She didn’t say a word, didn’t meet Samantha’s eyes, and when Kara’s squire, Vasquez, arrived, Alex stopped the woman from speaking with a sharp headshake. They seemed to be stuck at an impasse, a battle of wills between two of the most stubborn women in all the kingdoms.

“Just sit down and admit you’ve lost,” Lena said. 

“Never. Squire, bring me my sword.”

Kara grunted as she lifted the sword and grunted even louder when Lena punched her in the arm.

“You’re a fool. There isn’t another able or willing knight to join you, and you can’t go out there alone.”

“You’re right,” Kara said.

Alex was finally able to breathe a sigh of relief. It was unfortunate for Lena, but arranged marriages were commonplace among nobility. Many were quite successful, the king and queen of Krypton being a perfect example of such. It was best to just accept the facts and your place in the world. Alex knew that better than most.

“Alex, come here.” Kara said.

“Of course, Your Highness.” Alex avoided eye contact, as Lena’s glowing smile shifted, something simmering below the surface for some unfathomable reason. “How can I serve you?”

“Kneel.”

“I… What?” Kara merely lifted her head, and Alex hurriedly dropped to her knee, correcting her error of questioning the princess.

“Captain Alex Danvers, for your bravery in combat and heroic deeds, most notably single handedly saving the life of the princess of Krypton, heir to the crown, I dub thee Dame Alex,” she dropped her sword to Alex’s right shoulder, “defender of the realm,” then crossed above Alex’s head to touch the left shoulder, “protector of the weak,” and the final touch was brought down on Alex’s right again, “first knight of Princess Kara, future queen of Krypton. Arise, Dame Alex.”

Dame… Alex? Alex rose on shaky legs, scarcely believing, barely understanding, what was happening. Kara had just knighted her. Her goal to one day be general of the army seemed myopic when faced with this reality. She had walked into this tent a commoner and would leave a noble. 

She was so lost in her musings that when Kara said, “May this be the last blow you receive unanswered,” and punched her in the jaw, she was caught flat-footed. Alex staggered back, shaking her head to clear the stars that danced in her vision. “Are you alright, Dame Alex?”

“I…” Alex swallowed hard and nodded, the pain from her jaw subsiding almost instantly as joy rushed in. “Thank you, my liege. I’ll serve you proudly.”

“I have no doubt.” Kara gripped her shoulder, squeezing solidly and offering a brief smile, before returning to the business at hand. “Squire, take Dame Alex to my other kit, and get her armed and armored. We have a tourney to win.”

Alex ignored the bickering between the royals that erupted as soon as she walked away. The determination of Kara was clear now. If she lacked the tools necessary to get the job done, she’d simply make more. Not even Lena’s objections would get in her way.

“Alex, wait.” Samantha rushed toward her and stopped, mouth opening and closing as she hemmed and hawed. Finally, she pulled her hand-kerchief out. “Give me your wrist?”

“My wrist?” Alex asked, even as she held it out. Samantha wrapped the cloth around her wrist and tied it securely. Realization after realization washed over her as this new opportunity presented itself. “Oh, I’m a… I can… This is your…. Oh, wow.”

“So eloquent. My best to you in the tourney, Dame Alex.” She planted a kiss on Alex’s cheek that left the new knight eager to chase those lips and whispered, “Kick their asses.”

Alex watched Samantha walk away, spellbound, until a clearing throat shocked her back to the present. “Right. We should get going.”

“Congratulations, Dame Alex,” Vasquez said, as they rushed to the quarters where the Kryptonian guards were housed and Kara’s gear was stored.

Vasquez had been Kara’s squire for years. Though smaller than most, she was a quick and determined fighter, and her courage was unmatched. She practiced hard and rose in the ranks daily. Everyone said that one day, she’d make a great knight… one day.

“Vasquez, I’m sorry. This should have been you.”

“Nonsense. You’ve more than earned it.” Vasquez gave her a wry grin. “My day will come, hopefully not too far in the future, and when it does, I’ll have the honor of fighting by your side.”

“The honor will be mine.”

Though no stranger to armor, a knight’s suit of plate was a different matter for Alex. Each piece was custom made and fitted to the owner, and though Alex and Kara were similar in size, it was thanks to Vasquez’s expertise in readying the plate and dressing her knight that Alex had dressed for battle. The cuisse was hitched up a tad high thanks to Kara’s slightly longer legs, leaving less flesh than normal for the tasset to protect. It was a bit stiff and a lot heavy, especially as Alex had been up all night, but the rush of excitement of her first tourney, her first presentation as a knight, more than made up for it.

Finally dressed and with Vasquez trailing alongside, Alex hurried to the field as best she was able. The other contestants were already in place. Duke Edge was voicing some complaint to the crown, likely about the delay, while Lord Maxwell stood nearby him, unspeaking but lending immoral support. In the far corner of the field, in her black and gold plate armor, Kara waited with her visor dropped and her stance casual. When Alex reached the field, she raised her sword to her helm in a salute that Alex returned.

The contestants were announced, and a ripple of gasps followed by murmured discussion followed Alex’s name. At least her impromptu knighting was good for distracting the masses from Kara’s impetuous decision to join the tourney. Even Queen Alura took a moment from glaring at her daughter to give the new knight a once over. However, Alex barely noted these facts. She had eyes only for one person, the woman who had her heart. She pressed a wrist to her chest, the same wrist that bore Samantha’s favor, and nodded. She was rewarded with a smile that threatened to outshine the sun.

The blare of a trumpet interrupted Alex’s daydreaming, pulling her back to reality, as Queen Kieran rose. The crowd hushed, giving room to the queen’s words. “People of Éire, honored guests, and brave competitors, welcome to the final event in the annual Champion’s Tournament. As you all well know by now, there has been a change to our usual format, and this year, the grand prize will be the hand of Princess Lena.”

Murmurs rose through the crowd again, though whether it was as the reminder of the change (though it seemed unlikely that anyone would have forgotten that) or the fact that the queen gestured to an empty chair to her left was anyone’s guess. It was just poor manners not to attend an event in your honor. If Kara wasn’t standing across the field in her gold and black armor, Alex would have assumed Lena was still locked into an argument with the other royal. At this point, it seemed more likely the princess was avoiding the event in its entirety.

As if reading Alex’s mind, Queen Kieran gave a single nod to the two guards stationed at the foot of the dais. They nodded in response and headed out toward the tents where Lena was last seen. Ignoring any further acknowledgment of her errant child, the queen smiled brightly and renewed her speech.

“There has been one other change. The winner of the tournament may wed the princess or have the option of naming another suitable noble in their stead. Now, I think we’re waited long enough. Noble competitors, raise your weapons and let the melee begin!”

The muffled cheers washed over her, as Alex snapped down her visor. The dull roar of the crowd, her own steady breath, and the occasional call of her name from a familiar (though perhaps imagined) voice became background noise. Her vision was cut to a thin slit, the much-needed protection of the visor limiting her view. Every muscle tensed, as she crossed the field toward her opponents, barely glancing at Kara’s approaching figure on her left.

It seemed that as expected, Morgan and Maxwell planned to work in tandem. They moved steadily closer to the two women until, doubtless on cue, they both rushed forward. However, even though Lord Maxwell stood opposite of Alex, he broke to his right, both men heading toward Kara with deliberate speed and intent. Being newly knighted and untested in that role, it might have seemed Alex would be the weaker foe, but the men’s actions said otherwise. Perhaps a combination of Alex’s tales of battle and Kara’s weakened state swung the tide and pushed the duo to gang up on the princess.

No matter what it was that caused the choice, Alex’s reaction was instantaneous. She struggled against the slightly oversized armor, exerting herself due to the unaccustomed weight that increased her fatigue. Her boots pounded across the field, kicking up a cloud of dirt. Alex’s focus narrowed to once again coming to her liege’s defense.

Even injured, Kara proved surprisingly quick. She parried Maxwell while blocking Morgan’s overhead chop with her shield and spun between them, freeing herself from the corner and putting her back to Alex. The men pressed their advantage, raining blow after blow down on her while she took measured steps back toward Alex. Though her shoulder must have been screaming in pain, she kept her shield high, protecting herself handily.

It was only a few seconds, enough time to turn the tide of the melee had the men been successful in their attacks, before Alex skidded to a halt next to Kara. They stood side by side, swords and shields raised in preparation, and Morgan and Maxwell paused. It seemed a fair fight was of no interest to the malcontents, but that was what met them. Then the battle surged into motion again.

Blow after blow was exchanged. Though Morgan and Maxwell had the advantage of strength, Kara and Alex were quicker and more skilled. They split the men up, Kara fighting Morgan and Alex Maxwell, and pressed their advantage with carefully placed strikes. The likeliest outcome was a victory for the ladies, and with his back practically to the fencing, it seemed Maxwell had accepted that. He took two steps back and dropped to one knee, his head bowed. Alex stopped in her tracks immediately, accepting the obvious surrender and dropping her guard. That was all it took.

A handful of dirt struck Alex’s visor, bits of it flying through the slit and into her eyes. She was blinded, unable to even rub at the irritant, so she backpedaled and fumbled with the strap under her chin that held the helm in place. She got it loose just in time. Though her eyes stung and were blurry with tears, the greater range of vision allowed her to see the strike headed her way. She blocked it sloppily, stepping back too quickly and tripping over her own feet. She hit the ground hard.

Above her, as Maxwell raised his sword to end the fight, Alex kicked out, connecting with his knee. Between his forward momentum from his attack and his weakened base, he overbalanced, pinwheeling toward Alex and the ground. She rolled to the side, barely escaping being trapped underneath him, then lifted her shield and brought its edge down on his helm four times in quick succession. The second strike probably did it, but battle was not an endeavor that favored the merciful. It wasn’t until his sword slipped from his limp fingers that she let up.

Rising from the ground in armor was even more difficult than running in it. Alex struggled to get her feet under her, worked to push herself upright, but even as she did so, doubt set in. Kara’s sword arm hung loosely from the shoulder, the weapon’s tip dragging across the ground while Morgan pounded down with blow after blow. The princess’ knees bent from the power of the furious attack, signaling the end was near. It was clear Morgan agreed when he held his weapon high, driving forward with all of his might and connecting with… air. 

With a surge of reserve energy, Kara pushed to her right and past Morgan while he staggered forward from the force of his unlanded blow. She spun quickly, bringing her sword to the backs of his knees. He collapsed into a kneeling position, and then with a sweeping blow, she caught him under the chin. The strike resounded across the field, and Morgan was limp and unconscious before he even hit the ground.

Alex had finally found her feet again when Kara crossed the open field to her. She nearly congratulated the princess before Kara’s sword was raised in attack, reminding Alex of the true nature of this event. However, instead of crossing swords with her liege, Alex dropped her sword and herself to one knee.

“I yield!” 

The crowd was silent, Alex surrounded only by the noise of her own ragged breath before a veritable explosion of sound erupted from the crowd, celebrating Kara’s victory. When a hand was thrust out to her, Alex took it eagerly and let the princess pull her back to her feet. Together, they headed to the dais where Queen Kieran stood, awaiting the winner. Though Alex had technically lost, that thought didn’t occur to her, as Samantha beaming with pride at her approach was the greatest prize she ever could have wished.

“We have a winner,” the queen announced, sounding far more excited than the strained look that painted her beautiful face communicated. “I give to you all your champion, Princess—”

The world seemed to slow down as Kara removed her helmet. A black ponytail spilled forth from where it had rested upon her head, and sweat raced across alabaster skin toward the dirt below. Full, red lips curved in a decidedly self-satisfied smile, and green eyes sparkled.

Alex was certain she mirrored the look of shock on Samantha’s face. It was not Princess Kara in the gold and black armor, bearing the crest of Krypton. Wearing Kara’s armor and tabard, Lena had fought in the tourney and won. The winner of the melee and the hand of Princess Lena was… well… Princess Lena. The bards were going to have a heyday with this tale.

“Lena!” Queen Kieran hissed, red coloring her from jaw to forehead as a clear signal of ire.

“Your Majesty.” Lena bowed deeply, holding the pose for several seconds before she faced the queen head on once again. “I believe it’s traditional to wreath the winner with the golden laurel.”

Though Queen Kieran was obviously speechless, Queen Rhea was not. “I object.” She headed from her seat toward the royal box, waving a hand above her head. “This is improper. The princess cannot marry herself.”

“I agree,” Lena said.

“Then you need to pick someone else,” Queen Rhea added, directing her words to Queen Kieran even as her gaze slid over Alex, “someone appropriate.”

“Those weren’t the rules. Those weren’t your rules,” Lena reminded the queen, as her smile grew. “The winner of the melee may either marry the princess or choose another noble to wed her in their stead. You were quite insistent.”

Even as Queen Rhea stammered, a smile threatened to sneak onto Queen Kieran’s lips. Whether it was using Rhea’s rules against her, or Lena’s victory itself, the growing pride was impossible to disguise.

“Then choose,” Queen Kiran said.

“Happily. As winner of the tourney, I choose as recipient of the princess’ hand… Dame Kara, Princess of Krypton.”

The crowd sat in stunned silence even as Kara, one arm wrapped round to her chest, rushed across the field. The girls embraced and then kissed, breaking the crowd’s trance brought on by Lena’s announcement, and bringing forth wild cheers of joy. Queen Kieran looked to Queen Alura for support but was only met with a shrug. When you raise two strong women, you reap what you sow.

“Your Highness, a favor.”

Kara clapped Alex on the shoulder. “Anything, just name it.”

“Actually, I was speaking to Princess Lena,” Alex said. “Your Highness, I request your blessing in asking for the hand in marriage of Lady Samantha.” She cast a hopeful look at Samantha and added, “If she’ll have me.”

“Well—”

“She will!” Samantha yelled over Lena’s words.

The princess was unflustered at the interruption, merely pulling Kara in a little closer and saying, “Who am I to stand in the way of true love? You have my blessing.”

Once again, the crowd broke into cheers. It was a good day for love.  

Alex helped Samantha down from the dais, tempted to kiss her immediately but hesitating, her new title and privileges still sitting uncomfortably. Instead, the four women headed off the field, back toward the tent where the armored women could shed their shells and properly embrace their ladies fair.

“Queen Rhea will still be a problem,” Lena mused. “She is not a woman who accepts defeat graciously.”

“I would normally agree with you, Your Highness, but I think she has more pressing concerns right now. Look.”

Alex gestured to the stands where Mon-El was shouting while his mother tugged frantically on his arm. “Why didn’t anyone tell me we could just knight people and they could marry a noble? Someone get me my sword. Where’s Winn. Winn. Winn!”

The two couples chuckled as they made their way into the tent. Mon-El’s revelation and desires were sure to capture the full attention of his mother for some while, giving Krypton and Éire plenty of time to have a wedding and secure their combined power. Even Queen Catherine would be hard put to stand against their aggregate might. The ripples of this joining would spread throughout the kingdoms, causing lines to be drawn and new alliances to form.

Squire Vasquez helped Alex out of Kara’s armor while Lena’s squire, Jessica, helped the princess. It took several minutes before all of the stifling plates were removed, letting Alex breathe easily and move unfettered. The whole time, Samantha stood nearby, sharing intimate and excited looks with Alex. When she was finally free, Alex didn’t hesitate to take Sam’s hand in her own and drop gentle kisses across the lady’s knuckles.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“I think I do,” she replied, her head dipping as her cheeks colored crimson. When Alex stepped closer, she lifted her gaze once again. “Now what?”

“Now?” Alex glanced over at the two royals who sat close together, heads touching while they exchanged whispers and smiles. She pressed forward, her torso hovering just short of contact with Samantha’s, and laid a kiss, the first of many to come in their lifetime together, on Samantha’s lips. “Now everyone lives happily ever after.”

<><> 

Alex and Samantha’s wedding took place just two days later, both having waited too long already to wait any longer. They spent a week in a cottage in the countryside, making up for lost time. When they returned to their respective lands, it was to the hustle and bustle of wedding planning.

Kara and Lena’s wedding was an event to remember, one that was celebrated across two kingdoms. The event was held in a keep in Éire that was on the Kryptonian border, a piece of land gifted to Lena and Kara by Queen Kieran. Representatives from every kingdom were in attendance. Even Daxam was present, Mon-El showing up with the newly elevated and engaged Lord Winslow on his arm, both men beaming with happiness that was only overshadowed by the joy of the couple whose joining was being celebrated.

Lena wore green and black, her gray on her collar popped and framed the sharp lines of her jaw. Her hair was neat on the top and spilling down her back, a combination of the formality and casualness that were so common in Éire. Her crown was a dainty piece of silver, taken from the mines and intricately crafted into a band with embellishments. When Kara stepped out to meet her at the end of the aisle, all severity left Lena.

Kara was a vision in soft blue. Her dress gathered at the waist and up to her throat, which was encircled by a choker of the same material. A gossamer cape hung down her back, her blonde curls falling over it. On her head was a gold crown that rose high in the front and bore the symbol of Krypton.

You could have heard a pin drop as the priest read the vows, asking each woman to repeat them in kind. Even Queen Alura and Queen Kieran, standing off to the side of their daughters, were as silent as the tears that spilled down their cheeks. 

“I do,” Lena said, staring lovingly into Kara’s eyes, “I most definitely do.”

“And do you, Dame Kara, Princess of Krypton, defender of—”

“I do,” spurted out of Kara, her enthusiasm proving far greater than her decorum.

“Kara, darling,” Lena lightly chastised, but the smile on her lips spoke only of affection, “you need to let him actually ask you the question.”

“Sorry.” But Kara looked anything but regretful.

The priest leaned in closer, speaking in a conspiratorial, hushed tone. “It’s quite alright. The best part of my calling is seeing young people such as yourselves so obviously in love. I’ll just skip to the ending.” He cleared his throat, projecting again as he spoke. “Then by the power invested in me through the divine power and the kingdom of Krypton, I hereby declared you married. Let no man put asunder what the power has joined. You may now—”

Once again, Kara had proven too quick for the priest, her lips already eagerly pressed to Lena’s where they were met with equal passion. Applause rose through the hall, and the newlyweds turned to the assemblage. They stopped to hug their mothers and mothers-in-law along the way before heading back down the aisle, surrounded by well-wishers on both sides.

Near the end, Dame Alex and Lady Samantha stood. Ruby sat upon Alex’s shoulders, which had become her regular perch when with her new mother. Reaching out to Alex, Samantha laced their fingers together and rested her head against Alex’s.

“You were right,” Samantha said.

“I usually am.” Alex chuckled. “Pray do tell me about what I was right this time.”

Their conversation paused briefly as the princesses reached them, and the couples exchanged warm hugs. 

When they moved on, Samantha took Alex’s hand again and pulled it to her lips. “Happily ever after.”