To the Victor

by Samantha M. Derr

  "Lady Elizabeth," I asked curiously. "Why is it that you never married? Your family had the money for a dowry, and you're a beautiful woman." It was true. Her family was noble, wealthy, and well connected, and she'd been a young beauty with chestnut brown hair and sapphire eyes that had grown into a handsome woman of stature.

  "I wanted to marry for love," she said simply. "The way you look at your knight—I wanted that for myself. I never found it, so I never married."

  "I never thought I would marry," I said. "I am 30 years of age tonight and have only just met someone that's even making it seem possible."

  "Anything is possible, dear." She patted my hand. "Good tidings for you today, on the day you were born."

  I bowed my head. "Thank you." As I lifted my eyes, I saw Amir heading towards us, a servant trailing behind him. Following my gaze, Lady Elizabeth nodded.

  "Your knight approaches. I bid you farewell, Lady Miryam."

  "It was lovely speaking with you, Lady Elizabeth."

  "Before I go, I have to tell you that I love your dress. Your Lady-in-Waiting's creation?" I nodded. "Have her send me a card. I would love to hire her." She kissed my cheek. "And make sure you marry your knight. For love."

  And then she was gone.

  *~*~*

  "I am exhausted."

  Amir collapsed beside me in the carriage. We'd left the masquerade shortly after midnight, and the Great Hall was still full of people dancing in revelry. I had insisted he ride with me, Marfa hitched to the front along with the other carriage horse. We lay draped across each other in the back.

  "I couldn't dance another step. Or eat another bite." I rubbed my stomach. "I shouldn't have had that last boiled egg."

  "I shouldn't have had any of it," Amir replied with a shake of his head. "I haven't eaten food that rich in years. I shall be in the privy for the next three days straight!"

  "Good sir!" I giggled. "Have you no shame, to speak this way in front of a lady?"

  "Any other lady, mayhap," he said. "But not one with which I want to share everything." I felt my insides grow warm at his words as he tweaked my nose. "Even my privy habits."

  "Heathen!"

  We giggled and joked our way back to the manor, but a tingle of nerves went down my spine in anticipation as I saw it come into view up ahead. This was it.

  "Pray tell," I said, "do you think Alfaro is still here?"

  "Most certainly. I gave her my permission to stay as long as she liked, and Charlotte would certainly be in no rush to get her home, would she?"

  "I would think not," I said. "Let us enter through the library so as not to disturb them."

  Amir nodded. "All right."

  The driver let us out at the left side of the manor, where I handed him a groat to house Marfa and put away the carriage. Then I swept into the side entrance, leading the way into the library.

  Charlotte had indeed tended to the candles, none of which had burned too low or gone out in my absence. She had misted the rose petals with water so they did not wilt, and artfully plumped and arranged the throw pillows and bed linens on the floor. The scene was set as magnificently as it had been before I left. I shyly stood to the side so that Amir could enter and behold the display, and I heard his sharp intake of breath as he crossed the threshold behind me.

  "What… is… this?"

  "My Lord," I sunk down to one knee, pulling his hand into my own. "I have thought of no one and nothing but you since the day that we met. You have lit a fire in me, as no other man has been able to in my 30 years of life. I want nothing more than for you to be my husband, and me your wife, and for us to be together always. Will you be my betrothed?"

  I could see the shock on Amir's face, and for the briefest moment, I thought he might say no. Then he fell to his knees next to me, laughing, and cradled me in his arms.

  "Of course," Amir said, kissing me on the mouth. "And about time, too. I was thinking I'd have to ask you myself."

  "I wasn't sure," I said. "On the road today, you said… you said you'd never been in love."

  He winced. "My apologies, lady. The instant the words left my lips, I wanted to amend them. I don't think I've ever been in love," he repeated, "until you."

  "We are betrothed." I could feel the smile stretching my face so hard, it hurt. "We are betrothed."

  "But how shall we marry? You know… who I am."

  " Charlotte has a cousin in Leeds that is a priest. She is certain that he will marry her and Alfaro, and I believe he would baptize you and marry us as well. Even if not—we will figure something out, my love. We have flouted convention all our lives, you and I. We need not marry in anything but spirit, if it comes to that. And my spirit is willing."

  Amir grinned. "As is mine."

  We fell into each other's arms, shedding our clothes, and then feverishly made love. Amir wore the appendage made of red satin fabric, and his torso straps were a white that matched the clothes we had worn to the masquerade.

  "How does your dildo remain on?" I asked curiously afterwards, tracing my hand across it in gentle motions. "I mean, I see that you wear straps along your hips, but how does it stay up?"

  "I'll show you." Amir rose to his feet, clothed in only his undershirt. "They loop around here," he turned around, showing me his bare buttocks. I slapped it playfully.

  "Cheeky woman!" He laughed.

  "And you get to enjoy it for the rest of your life."

  I could see where the silk strips of fabric wound around his waist and in between his inner thighs, in a series of interconnected loops that formed a holster. He pulled gently on the shaft and the dildo came free. As he stepped forward to hand it to me, I saw a shadow suddenly cross over his face.

  "For the rest of your life," he mimicked. "You're sure that this is what you want, Miryam? I mean, what you really want? You could have any suitor, and…" He trailed off.

  "Yes?" I asked gingerly.

  "Well, what of children?"

  "What of them?" I leaned forward and grabbed his hand, pulling him closer to me. "If I wanted babes, I would have them. And if I wanted another suitor, I'd certainly have one. We both know Lord Dustin is ready and willing." He laughed at that. "You are all that I want. What say you?"

  "I say—yes."

  *~*~*

  6 months later

  Sunlight streamed through the pretty glass windows of the church in Leeds. It was a small stone structure, and we were dressing in the tiny priest's quarters situated in the back. I wore a blue, long-sleeved satin wedding gown, trimmed with a gold panel at the hemline and burgundy underskirt; the entire thing was actually lined in burgundy, including the under sleeves peeking out of my larger, blue bell-shaped ones. A crown of baby's breath rested on my head, and I carried a similar bouquet of wildflowers at my side.

  "Are you ready? Alfaro and cousin Charlotte are already in the nave."

  William appeared at the door. Quiet and reserved, he was only 24 years of age, with the same red hair and freckles as Charlotte. William was slight of body, so slender that he appeared almost lost in his priest's robes, which hung down to the floor. Despite his appearance, he possessed a great physical strength: he'd taken great care when he baptized Amir, lifting him up and gently keeping his legs elevated out of the water. There was a sense of calm about him.

  "My baby cousin marrying, and me the officiate! If only my uncle were here to see." He shook his head. "But two marriages in one day is sure to please the Church."

  "Anything else we can do to help, let us know," I said. "We will also begin sending monthly donations to your parish immediately."

  He bowed his head in gratitude. "Thank you, my Lady. Shall we go?"

  Going to Amir's left side, I wrapped my hand around his. He squeezed, and then pulled out two thin bands from his pocket for us to exchange.

  "Oh, and one more thing." Amir opened his other hand to reveal another ring, this one golden and set with a large, glowing moonstone. It matched the jewels in my dagger perfectly.

&n
bsp; "Ready to build a life with me, Miryam?"

  I nodded, kissing him firmly on the lips. "More than ready, my brave knight."

  Debating the Dragon

  MEREDITH KATZ

  Dame Ismay Wexley hadn't even reached the dragon yet and was already frustrated with her own victory.

  The problem, she had to admit to herself as she maneuvered Rutterkin through the narrow wooded path, was that it ultimately didn't matter what she did here. She'd succeed, of course—she always succeeded—but when she got back to court, ready to be heaped with glory and accolades, she would instead find herself in the same stupid go-around with the same pompous fools as always.

  May could practically see it already. King Edelmarr would announce her accomplishments before the gathered knights, as he was obliged to do for any of their quests. And then, suddenly, they would be muttering among themselves how they had thought it was a terrifyingly difficult quest, but clearly, if Dame Ismay had been able to achieve it, it must have been simple after all. How foolish that they hadn't chosen to go on it themselves, they would mutter, if they could themselves have easily achieved the same accolades.

  Idiots, idiots, idiots.

  Still, what was she supposed to do? Not take on the best quests, challenge herself to win so that someday, somehow, they'd see her as Edelmarr's best knight? So that her name would get passed down long after her own demise? So that, far in the future, her achievements might be something other people spoke of to each other with pride?

  Rutterkin let out a nervous snort and whinny, tossing his head with a jangle of barding. It was his usual skittishness, and May wasn't terribly concerned. She leaned forward and patted his neck. "Easy boy," she murmured. "What's gotten into you? Smell something—"

  And then the woods opened up around them, revealing the clearing and the tower.

  "—unpleasant?" May finished automatically, her tone gone odd with distraction. Rutterkin planted his hooves in spot and refused to move at the nudge of her heels. Fair enough; she, too, knew what was up there.

  She dismounted, armor loud enough that she knew there was no point in being stealthy even if she'd wanted to, which she didn't. Trying to sneak up would be the coward's way—it wouldn't prove anything.

  Taking down her spear and helmet, and tucking the latter under her arm, she approached the tower. She craned her neck up at its high window, trying to get a view of either captor or victim, but it was dark inside. Muttering to herself, she circled the tower once, seeing no visible dragon and, more to the point, no visible entrance.

  Nothing for it but to make the dragon come to her, then.

  Returning to the front, she planted her feet apart, slamming the butt of her spear against the ground. "I'm here for the princess!" she called in a ringing voice. "I'll defeat the dragon and take the princess to the court of King Edelmarr! This is my challenge!"

  For a moment, nothing changed. And then... movement in the window.

  She'd thought, even hoped, that she'd get a glimpse of the captive there. She didn't know yet what she was dealing with, since the traveler who had come to court had mentioned only rumor of a princess who had lived in the tower, a dragon's prisoner for as long as he had been alive. If there wasn't an enchantment keeping the princess young, May might have been rescuing an old lady, and, the probable mockery of her fellow knights aside, she wasn't sure how well someone like that might handle a trip back riding double on Rutterkin. More likely, it was a fairy princess of some sort, forever youthful. Not the first time she'd encountered one of those. They seemed to invite trouble.

  But her curiosity remained unresolved, because what emerged wasn't the princess, but the dragon itself.

  It pulled itself out of the tower like an enormous centipede, long and slender and with many short legs, slowly winding around the tower and moving upward to look down at May from the roof. It was a sleek, shiny black, with sharp silver spines cresting from its head and down its back. Its underbelly was also silver, as though it, too, was wearing armor.

  "Wow," the dragon said. Its voice was nearly unbelievably high, delicate and feminine to the point of being slightly nasal. "You're pretty cute as knights go. Haven't seen one like you for a while. Or ever? I think ever. I've never seen a knight as cute as you!"

  Despite her growing outrage at the disrespect, May felt her cheeks go pink. "I'm here to fight you, dragon!" she shouted back, half to make herself heard, and half because, damn it, she just wanted to yell. "Don't patronize me! Come down and face me properly!"

  The dragon folded her two front legs, resting her chin on them and looking down at May thoughtfully as smoke curled from her nostrils. "Right, you said that already. You want to rescue the princess. But why, exactly? Do you think you're important enough for some princess to just tag along after you?"

  "My name is Dame Ismay Wexley!" May called. "Also known as Ismay the Lioness! By all rights, I should be known by any who see me. I defeated five of Edelmarr's best knights to win a place at his table! Since then, I have completed countless brave deeds. I saved a fairy maid who was left for dead in the woods by breaking the bonds only a pure soul could break, I solved the dispute between the warring clans of Durstram and Pendermuir, and I captured a hellhound for Duke Redmound so he could engage in the greatest hunt!"

  Of course, Redmound hadn't survived that hunt, but any fool could have told him how that would go. She cleared her throat; she wished the dragon would come down and fight. She might want to vent her frustrations, but listing her achievements at the top of her lungs felt absurd. "I seek glory and love, as any knight would! Can your princess protest the quality of her rescuer?"

  The dragon let out a soft laugh, baring needle-sharp silver teeth visible even from this distance. "I suppose not! That's fair, that's fair. I imagine most princesses would be glad to be rescued by someone like you, certainly. No shame there. Why, your achievements are indeed immense! You must be very wise! Oh, and clever, and strong."

  It wasn't even mockery in the dragon's voice, but some sort of teasing. May flustered more, confused. "So show her to me, or come down and let me fight you!"

  "Sure, sure," the dragon said. "Hold on a little, okay?"

  It wound around the tower again, sticking its head in the window as if conferring with the person inside. And then it stayed there. It kept muttering with its head in the room and the rest of its long stupid lizard body hanging outside until May found her hands itching to get her crossbow. She wouldn't—even if she'd wanted to get a surprise attack in on the beast, she wouldn't do something so cowardly, no matter how it was tempting to do something about the dragon snubbing her by turning her back like this.

  The dragon muttered and mumbled and shifted in place for minute after minute, head in the window, until May, driven nearly to the point of madness with waiting, hissed under her breath, "Hurry it up, you swyving great lizard."

  She hadn't said it particularly loudly—nowhere near the shouting she'd had to do to make her voice reach the top of the tower—but the dragon paused, then slid back out of the window, turning its pointy grin toward her. "Oho," the dragon said. "Getting impatient? These things take time, kitten!"

  "Kitten," she repeated incredulously, still in her normal speaking voice, too taken aback to react any other way.

  "Well, I was thinking," the dragon began, "what's a good name for a cute lioness, and I figured—"

  "And you didn't need me shouting to you at all."

  "Oh, well, I have excellent hearing, kitten."

  She could only hope the flush of her embarrassment could be passed off as apoplectic fury. "Are you going to fight me, or am I going to have to make you fight me, dragon?"

  "I talked to the princess," the dragon said, smirking down at her, "and we came to an agreement. I will face you—but there are a series of three challenges to get through."

  Finally the thing was talking sense. May adjusted her grip on her spear. "So what are these challenges?"

  "For three days, we'll do a challenge o
f intellect," the dragon said, a pointed tongue flicking between her sharp teeth. "I don't suppose you have any magical skills?"

  If it was a magical battle, May was already at a disadvantage. She jerked her chin up a little. "I do not," she said. "But I will take whatever you throw at me and win."

  "No, it's no good to challenge someone to something they actually can't do," the dragon said, laughing. "That's no fun at all, kitten. I suppose we'll have to match wits the normal way. The princess wants to know that you truly are as clever as you claim to be—if you are, there's no shame in going with you. So: For three days, we will match wits. That's the first challenge."

  It wasn't exactly the most exciting work, but a battle of wits was still the sort of thing the bards loved; it made for excellent wordplay. May wistfully thought about the possibility someone would write a song for her—one that wasn't just a dirty-minded ditty—and nodded. "Agreed. What's the second challenge?"

  "The second challenge is of the soul," the dragon said. "If you saved an abandoned fairy maid in the way you described, you show kindness, grace, a good heart. Prove this to me; for three days, we will discuss philosophy and the great truths of mankind, while the hidden princess listens in to see what you are truly made of."

  Talking about the meaning of life wasn't exactly her strong suit, but she'd faced worse challenges. Besides, it was better to fail than not try at all. "Of course. And the last challenge?"

  The dragon's lips pulled back. "Well, kitten, we fight. Until one of us slays the other or, if we are evenly matched, until three days have passed, making nine in total. And then, on that tenth day, the princess will go with you." She paused, somehow smirking visibly even with her reptilian face, and added, "If you make it to the tenth day."

  "Fine," May said. And then, tapping her spear butt on the ground to punctuate it, "But you will have to do me the kindness of beginning the challenge when I return, not now. I didn't bring enough supplies for a ten-day event."