Maderr Fanfiction/Collab? Something. ANYWAY--The Disgraced Knight
This story is a sequel to maderr's fairytale, "The Knight of the Rose." Written with permission as a little gift for her and all the awesome ladies at Less Than Three Press.
Note: I am not nearly as accomplished a write as any of those awesome ladies, but I had fun with these boys, and I hope you do too. :)
The Disgraced Knight
There once was a knight who was grand and glorious. He was quite possibly the most handsome knight in the kingdom-tall and broad, with long golden hair and eyes like blue diamonds. He was from the Order of the Sun, and fit the title well. He wore fine plate armor, polished and shining no matter the time or situation, and carried a magnificent broadsword, the hilt shaped like a great bird and sparkling with brilliant jewels. His shield was colorful and dominated by a crest of the sun. He rode a sweet and docile white mare with a silver mane, and was accompanied by six servants who attended him throughout his quests.
All who saw the knight were awed, recognizing his greatness. Many would even go so far as to call him perfect, the picture of what a knight should be. The knight was confident in himself and came to recognize the treatment he received as his due.
One day he answered a kings call, confidently meeting every task put before him as he competed with another knight for the princes' favor. With the assistance of his servants, he easily met the kings challenges. But then the real tests came, the tests of his character. Unfortunately for the knight of the Order of the Sun, he did not recognize them as such.
And he failed.
The knight was disgraced, though no person truly said such. As soon as was polite, he departed the kings palace, wishing the Knight of the Rose and his prince well. He immediately travelled to the Order of the Sun's nearest temple, explaining his disgrace and his need to prove himself a true knight. He released his servants and returned his fine armor and magnificent broadsword. In exchange he accepted much simpler leather armor and a fine, if simple, sword. He did keep his horse, as it had been his companion for many, many years, but also traded in his fancy gear for much simpler items, things he could care for himself without relying on his servants.
After nearly a week he left the temple, his servants and comrades and masters all worried at his sudden and seemingly rash choices. But the knight could not be swayed by their concerns and advice, determined to make himself into the knight he had dreamed of becoming as a child.
He had no real destination in mind as he travelled, stopping to help anyone that needed it whether it was digging a well or rounding up lost sheep. Any time he found himself bemoaning his situation, longing for a comfortable bed or a hot meal or someone to care for his horse so he could simply sleep, he stopped himself and reminded himself why he was doing what he was doing.
It was slow going, and he found himself ready to return home and give up more than once. But within a day or twos time, he would again remember that that wasn't who he wanted to be. He would remember the Knight of the Rose and be humbled by the man's actions, and he'd turn back and continue on his way.
*~*~*
"Thank you again, sir," an earnest young woman said as she tucked her hair back. "I could never have repaired the roof alone. Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay another day or two? The supplies I've given you are hardly sufficient payment."
Offering her a slight smile, the knight shook his head. "Nay, my lady, but I thank you for your hospitality. Have a safe and warm winter." With a slight bow, he turned and mounted his horse, waving as he set off.
Anyone that had seen the knight a year ago would hardly recognize him-his leather armor was worn but well-cared for, as were his saddle and bags. His hair was tied back and mussed, and while he was still strikingly handsome, he had acquired scars on his body and lines on his face that hadn't been present before. And while he still did not feel he was worthy to return to the Order of the Sun, he did feel something-he felt proud. Even something as simple as finding a child's lost pet made him feel better than he had in the ten years previous.
As he reached the edge of the village, he approached a commotion-all he could see were a group of men, but it was obvious by the tension in their backs and the anger in their voices that something was not right.
Whereas before he may have dismissed this as a simple concern below his notice, he now took time to evaluate the situation as he approached. Several people stood back, looking anywhere from slightly uncomfortable to gleeful to upset, while four men gathered tightly together, jeering as they kicked the form on the ground.
Frowning, the knight kept hold of his temper. "Hold!" he roared, speaking with repressed rage and all the haughtiness and authority he had learned over the years. Urging his horse forward, he pushed through the men to get a better look at the person on the ground.
The men either had to step back or risk being trample, and they did so grudgingly, scowling and muttering but not risking directly talking to the knight. The knight took a moment to run his gaze over the people gathered together, watching as nearly every person averted their gaze rather than meeting his eyes.
Sure that the townsfolk gathered were properly cowed, and that he wasn't risking a knife in his back, he looked to their victim. There was dirt and boot prints all over him, but he-and the knight was sure this was a man now-had curled what looked to be a gangly figure tight. His breathing was erratic and pain filled, but the knight could see from the tension in his muscles that he was very much alert.
"Can you stand?" the knight asked, gentling his tone somewhat, though he still couldn't quite hide the anger that colored it.
After a long, drawn out moment, where the man seemed to evaluate if he was going to be attacked again, he slowly uncurled. As he stood, the knight managed not to betray his surprise at his appearance, hesitating only a moment before holding out a hand to help the man onto the horse behind him.
The man-more likely a boy-wore a light coat to ward of the crisp autumn chill, gloves and pants and heavy boots. The only skin visible was his face, and it explained easily why the townspeople had acted so harshly, even if it didn't excuse it.
His skin was a mottled, dark green, leathery and tough looking, and his ears were sharp and overly long. The knight couldn't be sure, of course, but he felt comfortable in assuming the boy was part orc-at least half, maybe more, though there was definitely human blood in him. Thick black hair obscured part of his face, hanging just past his shoulders, but golden eyes shone brightly. He easily reached six and a half feet tall, limbs thin and muscle obviously not filled in.
The knight and his horse held still, hand still outstretched, as the boy watched him for a long moment. Finally, he turned and picked up a pack the knight hadn't noticed, then stepped forward and took his hand.
With a nod, the knight helped him onto the horse behind him, but he did not leave immediately. Instead he sat there, slowly running his gaze over the people still gathered, lingering in particular on the men that had attacked the boy. In a loud, clear voice, he called, "People of Ashdown." He waited a moment, for every last person to bring their gazes to him. Some looked shamed, others angry, but none said a word. "Behavior such as yours dishonors you and your village. Think before you act in the future."
Not bothering to watch their reactions, the knight simply rode away, all too aware of the figure trembling behind him.
Waiting until they were outside the village and well into the forest, he finally stopped. Silently, he helped the boy dismount and followed suit, stroking the horses neck briefly as he looked up into his face. He was certainly more attractive than most orcs, the knight would say that at least, but definitely not handsome by human standards. His jaw and nose were overly large and his eyes were deep set, but his cheeks were high and sharp, balancing his face. Sharp teeth were visible but not even half so large as a full-blooded orcs would be.
The boy nodded briefly before turning to limp off, and the knight was rather surprised and almost forgot to speak. "Wait," he called, following but not touching, not wanting to startle him into action.
Freezing, the boy eventually turned, jaw clenched and mouth tight. The knight waited, but the boy said nothing. Eventually he asked "You speak human?" He kept his voice calm, glad his anger had faded to the point of not affecting him outwardly.
The only reaction he noted was slight confusion, so the knight tried again, this time in orc. This time, the knight could tell the boy understood, though he was slow to respond, and then only with a brief nod.
Nodding in return, the knight continued, "I am sorry for what you have suffered. You seem relatively uninjured, though I'm sure you must be in some pain. I am…a knight," he was loathe to refer to his previous order, but felt more than comfortable reclaiming at least that title, "and it is my duty to offer assistance where I may. Will you accept it?"
The boy took so long to reply that the knight had assumed he would deny his assistance, but eventually he offered a slow nod, jaw unclenching at least a little.
*~*~*
The knight knew he could not be much help in regards to healing the boy, but he could certainly see him home in a single piece. Though the boy did not speak, he silently showed him the way, growing heavier against the knights back with every step. It was nearly an hour before they reached the boys home, and though they took their time, even pushing hard would not have had them arrive much sooner.
Though the boy obviously favored more human habits over orc-most noticeably his manner of dress-the knight was still somewhat surprised to see a modest cottage rather than a cave or tree dwelling. He helped steady the boy as he dismounted, ready to leave after seeing him into the house. But, after taking a few steps, the boy gestured for him to follow.
The knight took a moment to consider, and while he felt he'd already done much to help the boy, he figured it couldn't hurt to make sure he was relatively unhurt.
Dismounting, he took a moment to murmur to his horse, praising her and making sure she was calm, before following.
Inside, the knight was further surprised to see that the cottage was tidy, about half of it arranged for a kitchen and dining area, the other split between the boys sleeping quarters and personal belongings. Shutting the door behind himself, he watched as the boy unloaded his pack, mostly consisting of basic supplies and food.
Casually, the knight watched him move around, taking his time as he was obviously in pain. The boy seemed content to ignore him, and nearly half an hour passed before the knights patience began to wear thin.
"Are you badly hurt?"
The boy ignored him for a bit longer, putting away his pack and eventually settling in a chair at the small table, gesturing for the knight to join him.
Sighing, the knight did so, watching as the boy began to strip off his outerwear, setting his gloves aside before gingerly shrugging out of his coat. With his skin, it was hard to tell if there were any bruises along his arms or shoulders, but he definitely seemed sensitive.
Beginning to feel awkward, the knight cleared his throat. "My name is Tristan. If there's any more I can do for you, I am your servant…however, if you have no further need of my assistance, I should be on my way."
The boy appeared for the world not to have heard him, but eventually raised his head, fixing eerie golden eyes on Tristan. After a moment, he glanced away and cleared his throat before refixing his eyes on the knight. "My name is David," he said slowly, gaze reserved.
Blinking in surprise, Tristan let out a soft chuckle. "So you do speak," he said with a soft smile.
David's eyes shuttered and he glared at the knight before turning his head away. Clearing his throat again, he said, "My roof is leaking. Please fix it." Not bothering to wait for a reply, he pushed himself out of his chair and carefully made his way toward his bed, tugging off his shirt with a grimace and carefully beginning to wrap a bandage around his ribs.
Momentarily stunned into silence, Tristan watched for a minute before standing up abruptly. While he would have preferred nothing more than to yell at the boy-David-for his presumptuousness, he managed to tamp down the desire. With a frown, he asked, as graciously as he could manage, "Would you like assistance with that?"
When David did nothing but ignore him, he let out a huff of breath before leaving the cottage. Preventing himself from slamming the door, Tristan still indulged himself somewhat in stomping over to his horse.
*~*~*
One week later and Tristan had torn down the damaged portion of the cottages roof and rebuilt it. Throughout the week, David had refused to speak with him any more than absolutely necessary. Tristan had found himself wanting nothing more than to tell the boy off-but each time, he remembered what he was trying to do and held himself back.
After the roof, there was the garden. And after the garden, there was the dying tree. And after the dying tree, there was gathering supplies, catching game, and a million other little tasks. Never did David seem to want to speak to him, let alone want him to linger.
After six weeks, Tristan finally couldn't help himself any longer, slamming his fist on the table top after David asked him to bring him a cup of tea. The bastard was in bed, couldn't even be bothered to sit up.
"I do not understand you!" he cried, shoving himself to his feet. "It seems as though you don't want me here, but you refuse to let me leave! Your requests get pettier every day, going to low as to ask me to fetch your tea." This last he spat as if it were the most heinous crime imaginable.
David let out a weak chuckle, shifting ever so slightly to peer over the covers at Tristan. "You strive to act so very good," he murmured, words hardly audible. "But you're nothing but a pompous arse, looking for your due."
Tristan almost stomped off, straight out of the cottage and to his horse, damn his honor and duty and damn the half-orc. But he stopped himself before he even took that first step; not for any sort of noble reason, but for simple common sense.
"You're hurt."
David closed his eyes and relaxed, nodding slightly after a moment.
Breathing out a harsh breath, Tristan took a moment to center himself before moving towards the bed. "What happened?"
Clearing his throat slightly, David said, "I truly could use some tea."
Tristan nodded and moved back to the kitchen, but most certainly caught the brief smile on David's face. "Shut up," he said gruffly, but gently.
David laughed, wincing a bit. "Fuck, don't make me laugh. It hurts."
*~*~*
After giving him a cup of tea, Tristan demanded the story from David. He knew the boy had been gone for several days, but when he had arrived back the night before he had given no indication he was hurt.
David carefully and succinctly relays his story, explaining he had gone to town to exchange some meat for winter supplies. Before he's relayed half the story, Tristan has already gotten the picture that he was attacked by the townspeople, but he is surprised when David says it was only two men, and while they did manage to injure him, others had stepped forward to stop him.
While Tristan had though he had simply taken his time, he says he had been taken into the home of general store owner to rest, and then given a ride most of the way back to his cottage.
With a sigh, Tristan apologizes for his outburst. "But you are wrong about me," he continues, voice firm. "I am not what you think. I am simply...a disgraced knight, searching for my honor."
Smiling, David looked at him. "Perhaps. You will have to tell me your story someday…if you feel like sharing, that is."
Tristan looks thoughtful, then begins to tell him the story of his disgrace and his attempts to regain his honor. David watched him the whole while, a thoughtful look on his face.
Once Tristan had finished his story, David nodded. "I no longer require your assistance. Please be on your way at your convenience."
Barking out a laugh, Tristan shook his head. "Did they hit you upside your head one too many times?" he asked teasingly. "You look like you need a good lie-in. I will stay until you can at least make yourself a cup of tea."
David repressed his laughter, not wanting to make his aches and pains worse, but he couldn't stop his smile.
*~*~*
"What is your horses name?"
"Silver."
"… Fitting."
"Shut up, David."
David laughed.
*~*~*
The weeks passed with the men slowly getting to know each other. Neither really went out of his way to accomplish this, but it happened nonetheless.
*~*~*
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
"…That's rather young."
"Mix breeds reach adulthood around fourteen."
"Huh. Is that why you're alone here?"
"…My mother died."
"I'm sorry. You can have mine, though she's more like an ogre than an orc."
David can't help a surprised laugh. "We can share. Wouldn't want to deprive you."
*~*~*
Some days, when Tristan couldn’t help but let his mind wander, he fancied that perhaps David was really a cursed prince, and if he could but figure out how to break the curse, David would return to his handsome self.
It was easier to dismiss these fancies as he got to know David better, until he stopped having them altogether.
*~*~*
When the time came for Tristan to leave, David finally fully recovered and able to care for himself and his home, a sudden and unexpected snowstorm hit. It forced Tristan to stay, or risk getting stranded in it.
He was not exactly sad to stay, though he wasn't thrilled to have to build a shelter for Silver so suddenly and quickly, David watching and calling out unhelpful criticisms.
*~*~*
The weather began to clear, though neither Tristan nor David discussed his eventual departure. Tristan continued making improvements to the cottage to keep himself from becoming bored, and David told him of his past and read books aloud in the evenings.
Finally, as the ground had nearly thawed and the skies had cleared, David asked, "When do you think you'll depart?"
Tristan smiled, looking into his cup of tea as if it held some strange power over him. "Would you like to know something funny?"
David blinked, startled at how Tristan seemed to ignore his question. "Mm. Alright."
"I used to think how perfect it would be if you were actually a prince, under a curse. And that I would get the fairytale ending, breaking your curse and finding out you were the most handsome man in the land, and perhaps we would find out we were perfect for each other."
David couldn't help but look away, frowning. "Ah."
"Oh, but that's not exactly the funny part. The funny part is when I realize how you're already pretty perfect, and I think we're quite suited for each other already."
David twitched, turning his head sharply to stare at Tristan. "You-what?"
Tristan laughed, moving to sit beside David. "May I kiss you, David?"
"…Uhm. Yes?"
So, laughing, he did.
Fin.
Note: I am not nearly as accomplished a write as any of those awesome ladies, but I had fun with these boys, and I hope you do too. :)
The Disgraced Knight
There once was a knight who was grand and glorious. He was quite possibly the most handsome knight in the kingdom-tall and broad, with long golden hair and eyes like blue diamonds. He was from the Order of the Sun, and fit the title well. He wore fine plate armor, polished and shining no matter the time or situation, and carried a magnificent broadsword, the hilt shaped like a great bird and sparkling with brilliant jewels. His shield was colorful and dominated by a crest of the sun. He rode a sweet and docile white mare with a silver mane, and was accompanied by six servants who attended him throughout his quests.
All who saw the knight were awed, recognizing his greatness. Many would even go so far as to call him perfect, the picture of what a knight should be. The knight was confident in himself and came to recognize the treatment he received as his due.
One day he answered a kings call, confidently meeting every task put before him as he competed with another knight for the princes' favor. With the assistance of his servants, he easily met the kings challenges. But then the real tests came, the tests of his character. Unfortunately for the knight of the Order of the Sun, he did not recognize them as such.
And he failed.
The knight was disgraced, though no person truly said such. As soon as was polite, he departed the kings palace, wishing the Knight of the Rose and his prince well. He immediately travelled to the Order of the Sun's nearest temple, explaining his disgrace and his need to prove himself a true knight. He released his servants and returned his fine armor and magnificent broadsword. In exchange he accepted much simpler leather armor and a fine, if simple, sword. He did keep his horse, as it had been his companion for many, many years, but also traded in his fancy gear for much simpler items, things he could care for himself without relying on his servants.
After nearly a week he left the temple, his servants and comrades and masters all worried at his sudden and seemingly rash choices. But the knight could not be swayed by their concerns and advice, determined to make himself into the knight he had dreamed of becoming as a child.
He had no real destination in mind as he travelled, stopping to help anyone that needed it whether it was digging a well or rounding up lost sheep. Any time he found himself bemoaning his situation, longing for a comfortable bed or a hot meal or someone to care for his horse so he could simply sleep, he stopped himself and reminded himself why he was doing what he was doing.
It was slow going, and he found himself ready to return home and give up more than once. But within a day or twos time, he would again remember that that wasn't who he wanted to be. He would remember the Knight of the Rose and be humbled by the man's actions, and he'd turn back and continue on his way.
*~*~*
"Thank you again, sir," an earnest young woman said as she tucked her hair back. "I could never have repaired the roof alone. Are you sure you wouldn't like to stay another day or two? The supplies I've given you are hardly sufficient payment."
Offering her a slight smile, the knight shook his head. "Nay, my lady, but I thank you for your hospitality. Have a safe and warm winter." With a slight bow, he turned and mounted his horse, waving as he set off.
Anyone that had seen the knight a year ago would hardly recognize him-his leather armor was worn but well-cared for, as were his saddle and bags. His hair was tied back and mussed, and while he was still strikingly handsome, he had acquired scars on his body and lines on his face that hadn't been present before. And while he still did not feel he was worthy to return to the Order of the Sun, he did feel something-he felt proud. Even something as simple as finding a child's lost pet made him feel better than he had in the ten years previous.
As he reached the edge of the village, he approached a commotion-all he could see were a group of men, but it was obvious by the tension in their backs and the anger in their voices that something was not right.
Whereas before he may have dismissed this as a simple concern below his notice, he now took time to evaluate the situation as he approached. Several people stood back, looking anywhere from slightly uncomfortable to gleeful to upset, while four men gathered tightly together, jeering as they kicked the form on the ground.
Frowning, the knight kept hold of his temper. "Hold!" he roared, speaking with repressed rage and all the haughtiness and authority he had learned over the years. Urging his horse forward, he pushed through the men to get a better look at the person on the ground.
The men either had to step back or risk being trample, and they did so grudgingly, scowling and muttering but not risking directly talking to the knight. The knight took a moment to run his gaze over the people gathered together, watching as nearly every person averted their gaze rather than meeting his eyes.
Sure that the townsfolk gathered were properly cowed, and that he wasn't risking a knife in his back, he looked to their victim. There was dirt and boot prints all over him, but he-and the knight was sure this was a man now-had curled what looked to be a gangly figure tight. His breathing was erratic and pain filled, but the knight could see from the tension in his muscles that he was very much alert.
"Can you stand?" the knight asked, gentling his tone somewhat, though he still couldn't quite hide the anger that colored it.
After a long, drawn out moment, where the man seemed to evaluate if he was going to be attacked again, he slowly uncurled. As he stood, the knight managed not to betray his surprise at his appearance, hesitating only a moment before holding out a hand to help the man onto the horse behind him.
The man-more likely a boy-wore a light coat to ward of the crisp autumn chill, gloves and pants and heavy boots. The only skin visible was his face, and it explained easily why the townspeople had acted so harshly, even if it didn't excuse it.
His skin was a mottled, dark green, leathery and tough looking, and his ears were sharp and overly long. The knight couldn't be sure, of course, but he felt comfortable in assuming the boy was part orc-at least half, maybe more, though there was definitely human blood in him. Thick black hair obscured part of his face, hanging just past his shoulders, but golden eyes shone brightly. He easily reached six and a half feet tall, limbs thin and muscle obviously not filled in.
The knight and his horse held still, hand still outstretched, as the boy watched him for a long moment. Finally, he turned and picked up a pack the knight hadn't noticed, then stepped forward and took his hand.
With a nod, the knight helped him onto the horse behind him, but he did not leave immediately. Instead he sat there, slowly running his gaze over the people still gathered, lingering in particular on the men that had attacked the boy. In a loud, clear voice, he called, "People of Ashdown." He waited a moment, for every last person to bring their gazes to him. Some looked shamed, others angry, but none said a word. "Behavior such as yours dishonors you and your village. Think before you act in the future."
Not bothering to watch their reactions, the knight simply rode away, all too aware of the figure trembling behind him.
Waiting until they were outside the village and well into the forest, he finally stopped. Silently, he helped the boy dismount and followed suit, stroking the horses neck briefly as he looked up into his face. He was certainly more attractive than most orcs, the knight would say that at least, but definitely not handsome by human standards. His jaw and nose were overly large and his eyes were deep set, but his cheeks were high and sharp, balancing his face. Sharp teeth were visible but not even half so large as a full-blooded orcs would be.
The boy nodded briefly before turning to limp off, and the knight was rather surprised and almost forgot to speak. "Wait," he called, following but not touching, not wanting to startle him into action.
Freezing, the boy eventually turned, jaw clenched and mouth tight. The knight waited, but the boy said nothing. Eventually he asked "You speak human?" He kept his voice calm, glad his anger had faded to the point of not affecting him outwardly.
The only reaction he noted was slight confusion, so the knight tried again, this time in orc. This time, the knight could tell the boy understood, though he was slow to respond, and then only with a brief nod.
Nodding in return, the knight continued, "I am sorry for what you have suffered. You seem relatively uninjured, though I'm sure you must be in some pain. I am…a knight," he was loathe to refer to his previous order, but felt more than comfortable reclaiming at least that title, "and it is my duty to offer assistance where I may. Will you accept it?"
The boy took so long to reply that the knight had assumed he would deny his assistance, but eventually he offered a slow nod, jaw unclenching at least a little.
*~*~*
The knight knew he could not be much help in regards to healing the boy, but he could certainly see him home in a single piece. Though the boy did not speak, he silently showed him the way, growing heavier against the knights back with every step. It was nearly an hour before they reached the boys home, and though they took their time, even pushing hard would not have had them arrive much sooner.
Though the boy obviously favored more human habits over orc-most noticeably his manner of dress-the knight was still somewhat surprised to see a modest cottage rather than a cave or tree dwelling. He helped steady the boy as he dismounted, ready to leave after seeing him into the house. But, after taking a few steps, the boy gestured for him to follow.
The knight took a moment to consider, and while he felt he'd already done much to help the boy, he figured it couldn't hurt to make sure he was relatively unhurt.
Dismounting, he took a moment to murmur to his horse, praising her and making sure she was calm, before following.
Inside, the knight was further surprised to see that the cottage was tidy, about half of it arranged for a kitchen and dining area, the other split between the boys sleeping quarters and personal belongings. Shutting the door behind himself, he watched as the boy unloaded his pack, mostly consisting of basic supplies and food.
Casually, the knight watched him move around, taking his time as he was obviously in pain. The boy seemed content to ignore him, and nearly half an hour passed before the knights patience began to wear thin.
"Are you badly hurt?"
The boy ignored him for a bit longer, putting away his pack and eventually settling in a chair at the small table, gesturing for the knight to join him.
Sighing, the knight did so, watching as the boy began to strip off his outerwear, setting his gloves aside before gingerly shrugging out of his coat. With his skin, it was hard to tell if there were any bruises along his arms or shoulders, but he definitely seemed sensitive.
Beginning to feel awkward, the knight cleared his throat. "My name is Tristan. If there's any more I can do for you, I am your servant…however, if you have no further need of my assistance, I should be on my way."
The boy appeared for the world not to have heard him, but eventually raised his head, fixing eerie golden eyes on Tristan. After a moment, he glanced away and cleared his throat before refixing his eyes on the knight. "My name is David," he said slowly, gaze reserved.
Blinking in surprise, Tristan let out a soft chuckle. "So you do speak," he said with a soft smile.
David's eyes shuttered and he glared at the knight before turning his head away. Clearing his throat again, he said, "My roof is leaking. Please fix it." Not bothering to wait for a reply, he pushed himself out of his chair and carefully made his way toward his bed, tugging off his shirt with a grimace and carefully beginning to wrap a bandage around his ribs.
Momentarily stunned into silence, Tristan watched for a minute before standing up abruptly. While he would have preferred nothing more than to yell at the boy-David-for his presumptuousness, he managed to tamp down the desire. With a frown, he asked, as graciously as he could manage, "Would you like assistance with that?"
When David did nothing but ignore him, he let out a huff of breath before leaving the cottage. Preventing himself from slamming the door, Tristan still indulged himself somewhat in stomping over to his horse.
*~*~*
One week later and Tristan had torn down the damaged portion of the cottages roof and rebuilt it. Throughout the week, David had refused to speak with him any more than absolutely necessary. Tristan had found himself wanting nothing more than to tell the boy off-but each time, he remembered what he was trying to do and held himself back.
After the roof, there was the garden. And after the garden, there was the dying tree. And after the dying tree, there was gathering supplies, catching game, and a million other little tasks. Never did David seem to want to speak to him, let alone want him to linger.
After six weeks, Tristan finally couldn't help himself any longer, slamming his fist on the table top after David asked him to bring him a cup of tea. The bastard was in bed, couldn't even be bothered to sit up.
"I do not understand you!" he cried, shoving himself to his feet. "It seems as though you don't want me here, but you refuse to let me leave! Your requests get pettier every day, going to low as to ask me to fetch your tea." This last he spat as if it were the most heinous crime imaginable.
David let out a weak chuckle, shifting ever so slightly to peer over the covers at Tristan. "You strive to act so very good," he murmured, words hardly audible. "But you're nothing but a pompous arse, looking for your due."
Tristan almost stomped off, straight out of the cottage and to his horse, damn his honor and duty and damn the half-orc. But he stopped himself before he even took that first step; not for any sort of noble reason, but for simple common sense.
"You're hurt."
David closed his eyes and relaxed, nodding slightly after a moment.
Breathing out a harsh breath, Tristan took a moment to center himself before moving towards the bed. "What happened?"
Clearing his throat slightly, David said, "I truly could use some tea."
Tristan nodded and moved back to the kitchen, but most certainly caught the brief smile on David's face. "Shut up," he said gruffly, but gently.
David laughed, wincing a bit. "Fuck, don't make me laugh. It hurts."
*~*~*
After giving him a cup of tea, Tristan demanded the story from David. He knew the boy had been gone for several days, but when he had arrived back the night before he had given no indication he was hurt.
David carefully and succinctly relays his story, explaining he had gone to town to exchange some meat for winter supplies. Before he's relayed half the story, Tristan has already gotten the picture that he was attacked by the townspeople, but he is surprised when David says it was only two men, and while they did manage to injure him, others had stepped forward to stop him.
While Tristan had though he had simply taken his time, he says he had been taken into the home of general store owner to rest, and then given a ride most of the way back to his cottage.
With a sigh, Tristan apologizes for his outburst. "But you are wrong about me," he continues, voice firm. "I am not what you think. I am simply...a disgraced knight, searching for my honor."
Smiling, David looked at him. "Perhaps. You will have to tell me your story someday…if you feel like sharing, that is."
Tristan looks thoughtful, then begins to tell him the story of his disgrace and his attempts to regain his honor. David watched him the whole while, a thoughtful look on his face.
Once Tristan had finished his story, David nodded. "I no longer require your assistance. Please be on your way at your convenience."
Barking out a laugh, Tristan shook his head. "Did they hit you upside your head one too many times?" he asked teasingly. "You look like you need a good lie-in. I will stay until you can at least make yourself a cup of tea."
David repressed his laughter, not wanting to make his aches and pains worse, but he couldn't stop his smile.
*~*~*
"What is your horses name?"
"Silver."
"… Fitting."
"Shut up, David."
David laughed.
*~*~*
The weeks passed with the men slowly getting to know each other. Neither really went out of his way to accomplish this, but it happened nonetheless.
*~*~*
"How old are you?"
"Seventeen."
"…That's rather young."
"Mix breeds reach adulthood around fourteen."
"Huh. Is that why you're alone here?"
"…My mother died."
"I'm sorry. You can have mine, though she's more like an ogre than an orc."
David can't help a surprised laugh. "We can share. Wouldn't want to deprive you."
*~*~*
Some days, when Tristan couldn’t help but let his mind wander, he fancied that perhaps David was really a cursed prince, and if he could but figure out how to break the curse, David would return to his handsome self.
It was easier to dismiss these fancies as he got to know David better, until he stopped having them altogether.
*~*~*
When the time came for Tristan to leave, David finally fully recovered and able to care for himself and his home, a sudden and unexpected snowstorm hit. It forced Tristan to stay, or risk getting stranded in it.
He was not exactly sad to stay, though he wasn't thrilled to have to build a shelter for Silver so suddenly and quickly, David watching and calling out unhelpful criticisms.
*~*~*
The weather began to clear, though neither Tristan nor David discussed his eventual departure. Tristan continued making improvements to the cottage to keep himself from becoming bored, and David told him of his past and read books aloud in the evenings.
Finally, as the ground had nearly thawed and the skies had cleared, David asked, "When do you think you'll depart?"
Tristan smiled, looking into his cup of tea as if it held some strange power over him. "Would you like to know something funny?"
David blinked, startled at how Tristan seemed to ignore his question. "Mm. Alright."
"I used to think how perfect it would be if you were actually a prince, under a curse. And that I would get the fairytale ending, breaking your curse and finding out you were the most handsome man in the land, and perhaps we would find out we were perfect for each other."
David couldn't help but look away, frowning. "Ah."
"Oh, but that's not exactly the funny part. The funny part is when I realize how you're already pretty perfect, and I think we're quite suited for each other already."
David twitched, turning his head sharply to stare at Tristan. "You-what?"
Tristan laughed, moving to sit beside David. "May I kiss you, David?"
"…Uhm. Yes?"
So, laughing, he did.
Fin.