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Ava sighed, elbows resting on her bedroom windowsill as she enjoyed a (very brief) respite from the many, many meetings on Her Majesty’s schedule. It was midday, and the knights were drilling in the courtyard the same as they did each day. Even though Ava should be used to seeing the knights train, should be used to the sounds of swords clanging against armor and hay bales, she never could resist the temptation to stop and observe. It wasn’t the knights in particular that caught her attention, but their captain.
Captain Sara Lance, the leader of the royal knight guard, barked instructions at her men in a tone that did not allow for refusal. Sweat dripped down Sara’s brow, her tied back blonde hair bobbing as she marched through the courtyard. Ava subconsciously licked her lips at the sight, leaning forward until her head was nearly through the open window.
“Hungry, my lady?”
Ava jumped, startled by the sudden voice, and knocked a candlestick off the windowsill, wincing at the loud clang as it hit the ground. Whipping around, she caught sight of Leonard Snart, her court advisor, holding a tray laden with food. One neat brow was raised, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement at having caught her staring so obviously.
“Ah, I was just,” Ava cleared her throat, brushing invisible lint off her gown. “Yes, lunch would be good. Thank you, Len.”
“Of course, my lady. You must have worked up an appetite,” he said, placing the tray on the table in front of her. “It must be draining, keeping such a close eye on your kingdom all day.”
Ava ignored the tease, refusing to give him the pleasure of knowing he’d caught her. She tucked into the food, silently appreciating Len’s uncanny sense of timing. She hadn’t even noticed how hungry she was, as busy – genuinely busy – as she’d been.
“What do we have next, another meeting?”
“Yes, with farmer Eckhart. He wants to share his concerns about the neighboring cattle ranch.” Len’s tone turned nasal at the word concerns, pulling a groan from Ava.
“Him again? Can’t he just install a fence further into his land? Why must he make such a petty grievance my issue?”
“Because you are the Queen, my lady,” Len snarked, stealing a ripe strawberry from her plate, “and it is your duty to hear the concerns of your loyal citizens. Each and every one.”
Ava groaned, covering her face with her hands in an attempt to block out the day’s many, many irritations. It never worked.
“What else is on the docket for today? Something interesting, I hope.”
“The royal accountant will be presenting his report for the previous six months, the royal physician has concerns about an illness spreading throughout the lower town, and we need to review plans for the upcoming tournament,” Len listed, ticking off each item on his fingers as he spoke.
The first two sounded so dreadfully boring that Ava briefly thought about finding a sorcerer to turn her into a frog so she wouldn’t have to attend. The third item caught her attention quite nicely.
Each year, the kingdom hosted a tournament where knights and those wishing to train could compete and show off their capabilities. The prize, a dinner with the Queen, was always sought after by her most loyal knights. Ava dearly hoped Captain Lance would participate, and dearly hoped she would win.
“You know, one would assume the Queen would visit her loyal knights in person,” Len drawled, expression mischievous, “considering how often she observes them from afar.”
“Oh, hush. You know it isn’t that simple,” Ava scolded, embarrassed at the heat she could feel in her cheeks. “And you’re one to talk – don’t think I haven’t noticed you gazing at Sir Allen.”
Len glared at her half-heartedly, gathering her empty tray as he stood. “I admire his skill with a sword, nothing more.”
“I’m quite sure you do,” Ava said, grinning at the pink she spied in Len’s ears. He glared and stalked away, pulling a laugh from her.
She and Len were an odd pair, having met when Len saved her from a group of bandits on the road. He’d been in poor shape himself, bruised and broken, but he’d stolen her away from the ambush until she could be rescued by one of the knights. When asked why he saved her, he explained that it was merely in his best interest to be owed a favor by the royal family. He’d traveled back to the castle with the royal guard, accepting her offer of a room and food while he recovered. His wit and knack for making beneficial business deals convinced Ava to let him stay. He’d balked at the idea of working in the palace at first, explaining that he wasn’t the noble type, but she wouldn’t accept no for an answer. Three years had passed since that fateful day, and they’d been fast friends since.
Having someone like Len around had been good for her, both personally and officially. She’d never truly wanted to be Queen, having only accepted the crown upon her father’s death. Since there was no male heir, Prince Gary was set to rule until Ava could find a husband to be crowned King. Marrying some strange man – indeed, marrying a man at all - for political purposes had never appealed to her, and it appealed even less once it became a necessity. The thought of Gary ruling her kingdom sent her into a cold sweat. Prince Gary was kind and well-intentioned, but had a long-standing reputation for being quite foolish and gullible. Instead, Len had persuaded her to marry a man of lesser standing – a lord or duke, perhaps – so that she would have the protection of being wed but would be able to take the title of Queen.
She decided to ask Lord Nathaniel Haywood, a dear friend who equally had no desire for a wife, to be her prince consort. He’d agreed easily, as it allowed him to leave his father’s land and pursue his passion, historical studies, instead of running the land. They had married two years ago and the arrangement had been more beneficial than either anticipated. The country was strong, Ava could rule as she pleased without her husband’s approval, and Nate could spend all the time he wished with Sir Raymond, his close – very close – friend.
Ava should be content, should be happy... yet it was hard not to yearn for someone by her side, someone she truly wanted. Someone who would be her equal, to spar with her both verbally and with swords, someone who understood her and loved her as she was.
Sparing one last glance out the window at the knights gathering their tools, she sighed and turned back to her work.
----------------------------------------------
The day of the joust had arrived, after months of preparations, and Ava couldn’t deny the nervous flutter in her stomach. Thinking of watching Sir Lance, strapped head to toe in gleaming armor, taking down her rivals... it was a lot for Ava to process. Len being overly willing to deliver Ava’s favor to Sara certainly wasn’t helping her nerves.
“Are you alright, My Lady?”
Ava jumped, nearly dropping the handkerchief she’d been twisting nervously. She turned to face Zari, her lady in waiting, who regarded her with a raised brow. Ava really had to stop appointing such judgmental people as her assistants.
“I’m fine,” Ava said, avoiding Zari’s skeptical look. “Truly, I am fine. We’ve been preparing for this for months, but…”
“But…?” Zari prompted, pulling the tortured handkerchief from Ava’s grasp.
“She just wants Sir Lance to win,” Len called, swishing dramatically into the tent. “She’ll be displaying our Lady’s favor, tied securely around one very toned arm.”
“Don’t you start,” Ava scolded, waving a hand at the delighted look on Zari’s face and the scheming one on Len’s. “I’m just excited to see how the joust will go. It’s my first one as Queen, after all.”
“Of course, my Lady. I have no doubt that our knights are more than equipped to handle today’s events. We wouldn’t have knighted them otherwise.”
Ava appreciated Len’s attempt to soothe her nerves. He could be awfully sweet when he desired so, which wasn’t often.
“Shall we get you seated, my Lady?”
Ava let out a breath, shaking herself, and grasped Zari’s offered elbow. Mischievous as they may be, Ava was glad she had two friends who knew how to read her so well. Head held high, she led the three of them to the main viewing canopy, nodding at waving onlookers as they went.
Her seat was in the center of the canopy, directly in front to give her the best view of the events. A large portion of thick canvas had been draped over the front railing to shield her from any unsavory splattering, for which she was very thankful. She caught Len’s eye over her shoulder, and he indicated to the other side of the canopy where Hartley Rathaway stood. Hartley, who asked to be called Hart among friends, was an acquaintance of Len’s before he came to the castle. He was once Hartley Rathaway, Earl of Louis, but a strained relationship with his parents spurred him to leave and find his own way. No stranger to the idea of being independent, Ava readily welcomed the young earl into her court. Hart was a man of quick temper, snippy and mean, but also kind and patient, generous and intelligent. Len had recommended him to run the Queen’s events, as he had an eye for art and the commanding attitude of a general. He had quickly proven his worth, organizing and managing many events Ava come to enjoy.
“Len, how do I say thank you again?” Ava whispered.
“Like this, my Lady.”
Len brought his hand to his face, palm facing inward, and tapped the pads of his fingers against his chin before pushing away. Ava mimed the movement to ensure it was correct, turning once Len nodded. It took a moment to get Hart’s attention, but the delighted smile on his face after Ava expressed her thanks made it worth the effort. After she’d learned of Hart’s inability to hear, a condition he’d had since birth, she’d sought to find a way to communicate with him. Hart – and Len, to her surprise – gave her lessons on hand-speaking. It had come in handy on many occasions, notably being able to complain openly with Len during her many boring meetings.
Before long, the trumpets sounded the beginning of the joust. Ava stood and welcomed the crowd, the knights, and the royal visitors who had come to view the day’s events. She fought not to let her eyes stray as she spoke, attention caught on the gold strip of cloth tied around Sir Lance’s (admittedly very nice) bicep, and the confident grin on Sara’s face above it.
After the arena was vacated once more, the competition began. Knights entered the arena atop their horses, decked out in the colors they were loyal to, faces set in concentration. It was quite exciting to watch, horses and knights racing towards one another at full speed. The clang of weapons against armor, and armor against earth, was loud enough to draw excitement from the crowd.
Ava tried to keep her composure when Sir Lance appeared in the arena, but she knew she wasn’t entirely successful. She could feel Len’s gaze burning a hole in the side of her head, and Zari fanned her a tad too fast.
When Sara turned, every inch of her covered by shining metal save for the lifted visor, Ava’s breath caught. Sara’s blue eyes sparkled in the sun, and her cheerful wink sent Ava’s cheeks burning.
Ava held her breath as the horses lined up, jousting poles gripped firmly in steady hands. The entire race lasted less than a minute, but it felt like an eternity before the other knight hit the ground, knocked cleanly off his horse by Sir Lance.
“Yes!”
The crowd cheered and hollered, thankfully masking the shout Ava couldn’t control. There was no way, however, to hide the fact that she’d jumped to her feet, arms raised in victory. Clearing her throat, Ava clapped awkwardly and completely ignored the delighted grin on Len’s face.
“Shut up,” she hissed as she sat, refusing to face Len.
“I didn’t say anything, my Lady.” Len didn’t even bother to conceal the laughter in his voice.
You don’t have to, asshole.
Her blush returned fiercely when Sara turned to face the canopy. She’d removed her helmet and her blonde hair, tied back in a knot, was messy with exertion. She seemed to glow in the midday sun, which only served to make her more unbearably beautiful.
She nodded at Ava, mouth quirked in a crooked grin that sent Ava’s heart skipping. Ava nodded back, attempting to appear regal.
After a short break for midday meal, the festivities resumed. This time, the knights would be exhibiting their martial abilities using a tool of their choosing. Sara had chosen two long staffs, reportedly hewn from an exotic wood brought in by traders. As mundane as the staffs appeared, Sara’s strong hands transformed them into an extension of her powerful arms.
The victors from the joust would face each other, competing until only two victors remained. After a final match, the official winner would be declared.
Ava tried very hard not to let her expectations get the better of her, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to tear her eyes from that bright flash of gold around Sara’s arm.
Each round was tense and exciting, though some more than others. Len, in particular, was nearly on the edge of his seat during Sir Allen’s fight against Sara. Had Ava not been too focused on the fight to consider it, she would have teased Len about the blue cloth tied around Sir Allen’s arm.
After nearly an hour of excitement, it finally came down to two. Sir Lance, fighting for Queen Ava, and Sir Diggle, fighting for King Queen. (Ava always had a hard time not laughing at that unfortunate name.)
Ava watched, hands clenched in her skirts, as Sara and Sir Diggle faced off, circling each other in the ring. Every blow, every near miss, had Ava’s heart pounding. She jumped when a large hand gripped hers. Glancing briefly at Len, she wound their fingers together, squeezing his hand in gratitude.
After what felt like hours but was likely only minutes, Sara toppled Sir Diggle, who lay on the ground, unconscious. A facilitator rushed over to check, nodded, and held Sara’s hand in the air.
“Sir Lance is the victor!”
The crowd jumped to their feet, cheering and stomping. Ava’s heart swooped in her chest. She found herself unable to break eye contact with Sara, mesmerized by the nearly animalistic look in her eyes.
“Time to greet your victor, my Lady?”
Ava nodded and let Len gently tug her to her feet, keeping their hands intertwined. Her heart wouldn’t stop pounding in her chest, but she fought to keep her face professional. She may have a young girl’s crush, but she was still a queen.
Len led her down to a small reception area where Sir Lance was already waiting. She was coated in the evidence of her battle, dirt and bruises smattered across her pale skin. She stood tall and confident, shining with the glow of a good fight.
“Your Majesty,” Sara said, bowing low.
“Sir Lance,” Ava said. “You fought valiantly today. I am most impressed with your martial skills.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. It was an honor to fight for you today.”
“You’ll be rewarded for your victory with an invitation to dine with me tomorrow night,” Ava said, fighting back her blush as Sara’s eyes glittered.
“Does not the victor also receive a kiss from her favor, my Lady?”
Ava swallowed back the desire to punch Len right in his snarky mouth, forcing a smile to her face.
“Indeed, she does.”
Grasping her hands in front of her to hide the way they shook, Ava stepped closer to Sara. She could smell the fight on Sara’s skin, the sweat and metal and earth. Leaning in, Ava pressed a soft kiss to Sara’s dirty cheek, lingering for a moment longer than was strictly appropriate. She nearly missed the way Sara’s breath caught at the contact.
“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Sara whispered.
Ava nodded and returned to Len’s side. His face was blessedly neutral.
“We shall see you tomorrow for supper, Sir Lance.” Len said, gathering Ava’s hand and turning to leave.
“Your Majesty!”
They turned back as Sir Allen jogged around the corner. He stopped short, realizing what he’d run into, and gestured awkwardly towards Len.
“I, sorry, I just…”
He held the blue scrap of cloth in his hand. Ava felt Len tense against her side and sighed internally.
“Zari can accompany me back to my quarters, Leonard. Go greet your knight.”
Len scowled at her briefly but nodded, walking over to Sir Allen. They disappeared together, heads tucked close. Ava caught Sara’s inquisitive look and rolled her eyes as if to say, don’t ask.
“About time those two figured it out,” Zari whispered, eyes glittering. Ava snorted. About damn time, indeed.
Len finally returned for dinner later that night, and Ava couldn’t hold back her teasing, especially once Zari caught sight of the obvious bite mark peeking out above Len’s rumpled collar. He denied anything happening, but he couldn’t keep the besotted smile off his face.
Charmed by his affections and the day’s events, Ava decided it was finally time to chase a little happiness of her own.