Most of this note is mildly important, and I suggest that you read it! There's a bit of Elizabethan English to work through, and I'll provide a glossary at the beginning of each chapter (just a few terms, here and there). I've refrained from writing in Shakespearean verse for readability purposes. Also, I feel I should warn everybody that this gets spoof-y here and there. I will also be throwing in misplaced historical facts for my own amusement and, if you see them, feel free to point them out for brownie points! At this point in time I would like to introduce you to the narrator, let's call him Maximus Impresionante (or Max) as you and the characters will be interacting with him at various points in the story. Ideals, beliefs, or attitudes/feelings for any religion, specified genders, marital practices, societal rankings, etc. that this story may convey do not necessarily match my own, and I am not attempting to sway anybody's opinions on these matters. This story takes place sometime in the 10th Century (the Founder's Era), so please remember that generally societal beliefs during this time period may differ from ones acceptable in today's society. As a fair reminder, this story does contain slash (both female-female and male-male) pairings. It is a large influence on the plot, so if the idea makes you uncomfortable, I would suggest to not read this. Otherwise, have fun (and remember, this has the tendency to act like a parody and your narrator's name is Max).

Glossary:

Hie: go

By Marry: Mild expletive meaning By the Virgin Mary, in order to say "indeed"

Him/Omnipotent: God, in case you didn't know

Accursed: Expletive, meaning damned

Zounds: Expletive, meaning "God's wounds"

Sirrah: Means "Boy", typically used to address somebody of a lower rank

Andgit: Intelligent

Maximus/Max: If you haven't read the AN or the chapter title, he is your narrator.

Once upon a time –

No, no, that's not quite right.

In a kingdom, far away –

Scratch that.

In a much simpler time –

That's not right, either.

On a steed he had come, his face bathed in sun, by the early morn's light –

Bugger that nonsense; let's just get right into the thick of things, shall we? After all, this isn't quite a fairy tale, now is it?

Miercna rīce, the Kingdom of Mercia, was being torn in two. Cnut the Great, of the Danes, and Edmund Ironside, of English blood and nobility, had divided the great nation, weakening its entirety. It hadn't been the first time Mercia was split apart, and they had survived before, so the people of the English midlands had not fear for their strong nation. By His graces, the people knew only kindness, as they were a fearful people, who dared not offend Him, for He, the great Omnipotent, could unleash the wrath of infinite power – ultimate pestilence unto the land.

In the scarcely traveled region of Hwicce, even overlooked by the ealdorman, Leofwine, due to its lack of significance in trade and overall influence, life was pleasantly typical. Eli the Breadmaker opened his shop before the dawn, and the sweet smell would carry through the town, rousing the sleeping villagers to greet a new day. Aaric the Blacksmith would walk the long main street, wishing God's greetings upon the rising merchants until the sun would fully crest over the peaks of forest trees, before retreating to his shop, Blessed and prepared for what the day would bring. Eli the Bard began his gentle chords outside of the pub, where the owner Birk, of the Ridel family, sent intoxicated men home to their wives or off to their jobs. Farmers would be having their second breakfast, breaking from the arduous labor of their trade. If any happened to be in the town that day, foreign silk and spice merchants would be setting up their shop just after the dew bade its farewell, dissipating beneath the morning rays.

The Estate of Germanus Harris would be roused, bustling with servants to see to it that everything was in order. Germanus, himself, would be waking, while his wife, Lucinda, would sleep for just a little longer. Germanus was an important man, and would need to be awake by the sun's earliest light. In fact, today it was especially important for him to rouse early, as today was the day he traveled to Wessex to meet with important men. His estate, as well as his wife and daughter, Ivanna, would be left in the care of his brother, Constantine, and his son, Nicholi. Germanus would not fret the well-being of his family under their supervision, as they would take great care.

Ivanna, an early riser herself – and who would much rather prefer that the narrator, and everybody else for that matter, refer to her as "Ivan", though most refuse her this luxury as it is most uncouth – rushed to the courtyard, still donning her dressing gown, to bid her father farewell this morning. She was chased by the blushing chambermaids, who chastised her for streaking across the Estate.

The men present in the room, men of strong influence, leered at her as she entered, despite the protest of the chambermaids. To her father's wishes, Ivan was usually kept away from the public eye, locked in her chambers without company. She was in her seventeenth year now, soon to be married to an influential man, if one would have her despite her otherwise lecherous behavior. It was Ivan's parents who suffered the most for her rudeness and inappropriateness.

"Papa!" she greeted cheerfully, not caring that the linen of her gown, meant specifically for sleep and that alone, was too thin, too revealing, and overlooking the look of mortification that drew deep lines across her father's face. "I wish my lord be in wellness and good fortune during his farewell" – she paused for a moment, her brazenness suddenly escaping her under the scrutiny of the men in the room – "and safe travels!"

"Accursed wench!" Germanus seethed, turning his countenance away from his daughter. "By Marry, I have certainly unleashed the wrath of the Omnipotent by some misdeed to be woefully cursed with such a demon. Hie, child! You have damned our travels by your presence! Hie!"

Ivan frowned, bowing her head respectfully.

"My lord!" one of the chambermaids said, stumbling into the room, red-faced from her pursuit. "Your forgiveness, my lord, I beg!"

"Be gone from my sight! Hie!"

Ivan allowed the chambermaid to usher her from the room, at this point, feeling disparaged at her father's woe and suffering. She did not mean to cause him so much grief. In fact, Ivan constantly sought her father's blessing and praise, but could only receive it indirectly, by the attention paid to her brother, Nicholi, instead.

She was a very strange child, you see. While all of the young ladies of Mercia long to be the wife of a Nobleman, Ivan has always dreamed of being the Nobleman that the young ladies are yearning to marry. For as long as she can remember, she has always wanted to be a man. She yearns for greater things: adventure, glory, power, a gentle woman's touch. Oh, how she longed for grandeur! Oh, how she longed to be a man! Oh, how she longed to bask in the glory that came with being a man! She would never allow this to be known to her parents, however, not after the incident.

The incident occurred when Ivan was in her seventh year of existence. One day, while practicing her posture, eloquence, manners, and all other effects that her mother deemed as vital knowledge, Ivan discovered that she could levitate object, by the mere thought of doing so. She levitated all sorts of things: chairs, parchment, quills, candles, cats, chambermaids, her mother... Of course, the devil had possessed her, to cause her to do such things. Her parents swiftly saw to it that the Church stomp the demons from their daughter. It took three long years, over a hundred different types of treatments, and thousands of prayers for those demons to be vanquished. Or so Ivan led everybody to believe. Ivan could still levitate objects, if it pleased her. In fact, Ivan could do all sorts of unimaginable things with her mind, but the Law – directly taken from His word – said that things of this nature were forbidden, as they were blasphemous...sorcery.

The demons were surely to blame, then, for her sexual orientation and longing to be of the opposite gender. Ivan didn't wish to return to the Church, nor endure the treatments again. So, she suffered in silence, hiding her true identity from all – except, of course, from Nicholi.

Nicholi was the scholarly type. While that particular asset of his wasn't necessarily a terrible feat, young Nicholi was the heir to the Harris Estate! His birthright required him to be a man of affluence and power, riches and strength, bravery and valor, but not a simple scholar. Those artsy sorts could only serve as entertainment to great men, but could not be great men. No, a great man is defined by his victories, his prosperity, and his blood, as He intended it to be.

He was yet another source of his parents suffering, for he wished for a simple life, one not defined by his grandeur. He studied the heavens; he studied the rocks and the earth; he studied the way people interacted with each other; he studied his sister's strange behavior. He thirsted for knowledge, and he needed to understand why his sister would wish to be a man. Well, he knew why she would want to be a man – for who would want to be a woman, lacking freedoms and justifications for their actions – but he knew no woman who would ever wish to be a man. It was odd; she was odd. That made her a perfect case to study.

When Ivan approached him, pleading with him to allow her to disguise herself as him and travel to his lessons in his place, Nicholi was curious. If she were to complete the tasks of the lessons – sword fighting, history lessons, the Book of His word studies, political and situational studies, dramatic speaking and flamboyant body movements, and, of course, the crash courses in arrogance, chivalry, and bigotry – in a competent manner, then his father would hear of his successes, easing his suffering brought on by his weak son. When they were but children, this wasn't a difficult task. As siblings, the two looked quite similar in appearance, with Ivan only being a couple years younger than Nicholi. It was simple for Ivan to tuck her long curls beneath a hat, and dress in her brother's clothes. Ivan was surprisingly adequate during lessons, especially sword fighting – oh, how she loved to use a sword. The long, metal object became as familiar as a second arm to her, and she was quite masterful with it. She had become quite good at being a boy. She could speak like a boy, acquired the gait of a boy, and could fight like a boy. That's right, children – though, none of you are actually children, as you need to be 17 or older to be reading this due to the maturity rating and applicable warnings – Ivan had manly swagger.

While she was taking his lessons for him, Nicholi could stow away with writings and just study. Nobody bothered Ivan while she was locked in her quarters, so there wasn't anybody around to discover her missing.

As they grew older, there bodies began to undergo changes however. Ivan grew curves in places where men didn't, and Nicholi's voice deepened, and he began growing hair where women couldn't. Ivan did her best to keep her voice low, and she bound her entire torso tightly in strong cloth, hoping that the cloth would determinately narrow her hips and flatten her chest. The lack of facial hair, she constantly insisted was a result of keeping well-shaved.

Ivan could not only –

"Sir Maximus!" Ivan scolded me, still standing in the frozen scene that we left her in. "The back story is becoming unnecessarily garrulous, and I'm cramping from holding this position!"

Ivan was an impatient girl.

Moving along, then.

She was escorted back to her chambers, and locked within. She then scaled the side of the Estate building, her small, womanly fingers easily gripping the stone walls, to her brother's balcony, as she had done many times before. Wherein, she found Nicholi pacing frustratedly.

"Brother!" she announced, throwing open the emerald curtains to his chambers. "What has disquieted you, so?"

Nicholi ceased his ambulate to regard his sister with a ferocious gaze. "Father is demanding I proclaim a marriage soon, to carry on our family's lineage – Zounds! Sister, why are you nude?"

Her face darkened with a blush. "I'm clothed enough, thank you!" she spat. "You wouldn't think twice if I were a man..."

He rolled his eyes. "Max! Sir Max! Do something, please?"

Right, then.

Despite Ivan's disgruntled sigh, she dressed herself in her brother's apparel, so that his eyes would no longer be subjected her lack of modesty. She tucked the long acorn-colored hair of hers – the hair she had inherited from her mother, but not literally, mind you, but rather the trait had been passed on by way of genetic inheritance – beneath a cap. Certainly she could pass as a boy, but not of seventeen, as she was, nor of twenty, as she claimed to be as her brother.

"Significantly better, thank you, Max," Nicholi said, appreciatively.

You're quite welcome, Sirrah.

Ivan crossed her arms across her chest, an unhappy pout forming across her face. "You were saying, Nicholi?"

It took Nicholi several of the briefest moments to backtrack to their previous conversation, before the issue of nudity arose. "Ah, yes," he said, preening himself in the mirror. He swiftly turned on his heel to face Ivan, his features contorting dramatically before he pointed an accusatory finger at his sister. "You have been wooing one of the Thomas' girl's! Her father has approached our father with a proposal for our union! Father insists that we marry upon his return home – to carry out my duty as heir to the Harris Estate!" He dropped to his knees, burying his face in his hands. "Such burden you place upon my poor soul, Sister!"

There was a long moment of silence where Ivan simply watched her brother in his frozen position on the floor, highly amused.

He let his hands drop suddenly, and sat back onto his heels. "How was that?" he asked with a quirked eyebrow.

He was, of course, referring to lessons that Ivan had been giving him on the Art of dramatic speaking, flamboyant gestures, and overall douche-baggery. It was vital that Nicholi be able to preform appropriately and believable before his father and his father's associates, else the scam the siblings were pulling could easily be uncovered.

Ivan applauded his performance with vigor. "Brilliant, you're really coming along!"

Nicholi's grin soon contorted into a pout as he remembered his sufferings. "What am I to do?"

"Come now," Ivan said, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Bessie's a lovely girl! She's thick, child-rearing hips, and large, supple–"

Her brother knocked her hands away from her chest before she could make any inappropriate gestures. "Is that what you look for in a woman?" He fell over theatrically, pressing the back of one of his hands to his forehead and held the other out before him, high in the air. "Oh! I do not wish to marry!"

"Please," Ivan scoffed, "Bessie's head is as empty as her bosom is voluptuous!" She waved her hand in the air, shooing an invisible fly. "What's wrong, brother? Fancy men, do you?"

"Certain not!" he interjected, sitting upright quickly. "I do not wish to marry anyone, of any gender. Certainly you can sympathize?"

Ivan straightened, squaring her shoulders and widening her stance. "Sympathize? Sympathize? I should think not! If I were a man, I would leap at the opportunity to marry a fair lady!"

"You've only just said that 'Bessie' was a dullard!"

"Well I would not marry, Bessie." She closed her fist, and placed on on each of her constricted hips. "No, I would marry the fairest, most andgit, most determined woman in all the land!"

Nicholi snorted. "And she would have you."

"If I were a man, I would be the best man to ever live! Of course she would have me!"

"And what do you propose to do about Lord Grundyblossom's inquiries for your hand, sister?"

"W-what? What are you– There hasn't– Lord Grundyblossom? The Lord Grundyblossom of the Grundyblossom family?"

He laughed. "The very same. Have you not heard? Father is considering his offer – the only offer he's ever received mind you – for your hand in marriage."

"But I do not wish to marry Lord Grundyblossom!"

"Then you can feel my sorrow! Besides, it was only a matter of time. You're seventeen now, after all, you'll soon be an old maid, dear sister."

Ivan departed from her brother's room, her mind clouded with gloom. She did not want to marry a man, any man, but she certainly did not want to marry Lord Grundyblossom! His family had been reaching for glory for years, and failing miserably, until he was born. This particular fellow was conniving and swarthy enough to obtain a foothold on some level of importance. Yes, it was certainly an easier life to be a man, Ivan's heart acknowledged, her longing dampening her spirit.

She slowly walked across the dusty, grimy, filthy, diseased town and ignored Igor the lame Fool as he writhed upon the dirt, preforming his Act of the Festive Worm for the idiotic townspeople. It was peculiar, Ivan thought, as she trotted passed –

"I do not 'trot'!"

Of course, excuse me, 'Sirrah'.

It was peculiar, Ivan thought, as she strode passed –

"Much better."

As she strode passed the Fool! Typically, he would have quite a significant number of idiots gathered around him to watch his act. She soon noticed that the idiots were all gathered elsewhere. In fact, there was quite a bit of commotion going on in front of the pub today.

Ivan decided that she would see why said commotion was taking place on this particular day.

However, you, dear reader, will not know what this hubbub was all about, for this is where the chapter ends.

AN: There. Now did you remember my note about parodied elements and the narrator? I hope so.

Fun fact about Max the Narrator number one: Max can only be heard by certain characters! Keep that in mind.