Author's Note: This story is a prequel to an unposted fantasy AU that I've been working on. I hadn't originally intended to share this portion of the story, since it's mostly just setting up the Tommy/Kim subplot for the main AU story, but Falcon4Crane requested a one-shot that was pretty close to this one in terms of plot, and was kind enough to let me write in this AU 'verse to fill the request. Of course, being that this is me and the story is AU, it didn't stay a one-shot for long, so here's the first installment.

Chapter One: Girl Meets Boy

Kimberly ran as fast as her feet could carry her, skidding into place among the young warriors of Torhart at the last possible moment. Her tardiness earned her an amused look from the boy beside her, but she was not late enough to earn a reprimand from the arms-master. Out of breath and sweltering in her leather armor under the fierce summer sun, she stood as tall and proud as her petite, fourteen-year-old frame would allow, and had to resist the urge to grin as everyone present failed to recognize her.

She could not remember the first time she had buckled on a set of boiled leather armor and had taken to the practice field disguised as a boy, but by now the game, as she had come to call it, had become old habit. The game: convincing her father that she attended the martial demonstrations each summer as befitted a young woman of her rank and family standing, when in reality she spent most of her time brawling with the boys.

It was amazing that she had managed to get away with it at all, let alone for as long as she had. Of course it helped that she had a willing accomplice in her uncle Stephen, the arms-master, but it still shocked her the way people only saw what they expected to see. They looked at her and did not see Kimberly Hart, the only child and heir of his lordship Bertran Hart of Torhart. They saw only another nameless, common boy seeking to distinguish himself on the field of battle and earn a place among the men of Torhart.

Her only regret was that the deception could not last much longer. It had been easier when she was younger. Now it was becoming more difficult to disguise her figure and find armor that would fit her, and her father's cronies had begun checking daily for the first flowering of her womanhood. She dreaded the coming of that day. When that day arrived, her fighting days would be over for good. On that day, she would be legally old enough for marriage.

As the arms-master walked the line, pairing off boys of similar size and ability for the first round of fights, Kimberly tried not to think of what the future might hold. She was experienced enough now to know that if she let her focus wander from the fight at hand, she could easily lose a match. She did not want to lose a match. Not yet, anyway. She would lose eventually, on purpose, because winning would mean revealing her identity, but she would acquit herself well first, as she did every year.

To her surprise, she did not recognize the boy that Uncle Stephen paired her with. She had trained with and fought against most of the local boys before, and knew many of them from her day-to-day life as the heir of Torhart, but this boy was a stranger to her. His helmet obscured most of his face, but his eyes were surprisingly intense. For a moment she feared he could see right through her disguise and realize that his opponent was no boy at all, but then he simply nodded his head with a competitor's respect for an adversary, and turned to watch the first match from their age group.

While he watched the match, she watched him. He was quite a bit taller than she was and had the muscular build of a warrior, so she could only assume they had been matched for skill. She recognized the crest embossed on his armor as the Oliver falcon, though his armor was plain brown rather than the green-and-white of that family. She did not remember the Olivers having a son in her age group, but they were not on good terms with her own family and she generally only heard word of potential suitors, not boys that her father considered totally unsuitable for his daughter's marriage bed. She was surprised her father was allowing an Oliver boy to participate in the demonstration at all, even though any boy, even a peasant's son, was supposed to be allowed to join the games, so long as he could scrape together a set of armor and a sword.

Their turn in the ring came soon enough. Kimberly returned her opponent's respectful bow and waited to draw her sword until the arms-master gave the signal to begin.

The Oliver boy was good with a sword, and fast, faster than she expected, and with a reach several inches bigger than her own. Beating him was going to be tough, but she had confidence that she could do it. He might have been very well trained, that much was immediately obvious, but so was she. And no matter how fast he was, she was faster and more agile.

She skittered around him, testing his skill and reach as she went, looking for weak points. Sweat gathered unpleasantly on her face and in her hair, but she knew she could not afford to be still. If she quit moving, he would have her. With that in mind, she slipped past a particularly brutal slash, intending to get past his guard and draw first blood before he had another chance to attack her, becoming aware too late that it was only a ploy. By the time she realized what was happening, he had already caught her with his free arm and wrestled her to the ground.

He pinned her to the dirt for the required five seconds, letting her up as soon as the arms-master announced that the match had been won. "Nice fight," the Oliver boy commented politely. She let him help her to her feet despite the intense desire to spit in his face. Nobody had ever beaten her that easily before.

As she walked stiffly away, nursing her wounded pride, she decided that she hated him. Whoever he was.

Kimberly made her way quickly through the crowd clustered around the fighting ring. Since she was the loser, no one paid any attention to her. When she was free of the crowd she made her way carefully through the fair of tents spread out over the rest of the field, careful to avoid catching anyone's eye as she went. After she reached the edge of the fair it was only a short jog to a nearby stand of trees and the hidden corner where she had stashed her regular clothes.

She was still seething several minutes later as she emerged from her hiding place, still working on pinning her hair up beneath her hat in her hurry to get back to the gaming grounds. She might be dressed as a proper lady now, but she was feeling anything but ladylike after her loss in the fighting ring. Rather, she wanted to hit someone. Preferably the too-skilled, too-polite Oliver boy.

Instead, she plastered a bland look on her face and allowed her governess to find her wandering between the booths of the fair.

"Kimberly! Where have you been?" Mistress Appleby chided, catching sight of her in the crowd. "I've been looking all over for you! You know it is improper for a young woman to attend the games without a chaperone."

Kimberly lowered her head so Mistress Appleby would not see the way she rolled her eyes. She was likely to be in enough trouble already without appearing to openly flout her governess's authority. "I'm sorry, Mistress Appleby," she said with false innocence. "I stopped to look at one of the stalls when we were walking through the fair this morning, and when I looked back you were gone." She looked up to peer imploringly at the older woman, daring her to call the bluff.

"Thought you'd do some shopping on your own, did you?" Mistress Appleby tutted. "Your father won't be pleased to find you wasting good coin on trifles again, young lady."

"I'm sorry," Kimberly repeated, thinking that her father would be far less angry if Mistress Appleby would not insist on telling him everything his daughter did wrong. "I'll do better next time."

Mistress Appleby leveled a critical look at her. They both knew she had no intention of behaving better in the future, but Mistress Appleby, as always, would have to take her at her word. "So long as you really do try to do better next time," the older woman said reluctantly. "Now come along. You've already missed the first half of the competition."

Missing the boys' competition did not seem like much of a loss to Kimberly, who had experienced it firsthand, but she could not tell Mistress Appleby that.

The governess was a large, strong woman and had little trouble making a path through the crowd. Kimberly kept her mouth shut and followed Mistress Appleby as meekly as she could. It was not long before they reached the ring, where battle still raged, and took their place on a bench near Kimberly's father. Lord Hart did not even glance in their direction.

For once Kimberly did not have to fake interest in the fight. The challenge for boys aged ten to fifteen years was still underway, though the ranks of fighters had dwindled to a scant few. One of the few boys still in the competition, much to Kimberly's annoyance, was the Oliver boy who had beaten her so easily earlier. She had to hide a scowl as he vanquished yet another foe with obvious ease. It would have improved her mood a great deal to see him lose a fight. But the world did not move according to her wishes, and not only did he win his fight, he, unlike her father, noticed her arrival immediately.

While his opponent sulked out of the ring, he looked up and caught sight of her sitting there beside Mistress Appleby and stared. His gaze was so intense now that she feared he must have recognized her as his opponent from before, but if he did he gave no sign of it. Realizing that she was staring right back, she turned her gaze resolutely down at her lap and did her best to keep it there for the rest of the afternoon, until it was finally time to go back into the castle for the night.

The games ended daily at nightfall, but that did not mean the festivities for the day were over. Far from it, in fact. Kimberly enjoyed the night's events as much as she did the day's battles, because nighttime meant feasting and reveling. The post-games parties were the only time Kimberly could freely mingle with other people; it was easy to ditch Mistress Appleby in the crowded feast hall, and then she could slip off to do whatever she pleased.

She had been escaping the watchful eyes of her governess even before she had started taking fighting lessons with Uncle Stephen. By now it was second nature. She just had to find the right opportunity, and then she would be gone before Mistress Appleby realized what was happening.

Sometimes she was lucky and opportunities presented themselves right away. Tonight, she was not lucky. And, worse, everyone was keeping a much closer eye on her than usual, now that she would be reaching womanhood any day now. She hated the polite inquiries about her wellbeing almost as much as she hated the leering, calculating stares. More than anything, she hated being Kimberly, the heir of Torhart.

It was not that she did not like being a lady. In fact, she loved being a lady. She loved the clothes and the glamor, the gossip and the secrets and the intrigue. The problem was that she loved archery and sword-fighting as much as she loved her gowns, and she loved all of those things a good deal more than she liked the idea of being traded off to some wealthy, powerful man in exchange for an alliance to benefit her father and his co-conspirator, the High King. The one saving grace in the whole mess was the King's son, Jason. He was Kimberly's best friend in the whole world; given the choice she would gladly have married him instead of some stranger, but Raynor Scott was not interested in marrying his son to the daughter of Torhart. Not when his alliance with the Harts was already solid and that daughter could be used more advantageously elsewhere, as if she were just some pawn in a board game.

She was infuriated just at the thought, but she hid it well and kept an eye out for a chance to slip away from Mistress Appleby. She might not be able to rebel against whatever marriage her father and the High King would arrange for her in the weeks or months to come, but she could rebel against the smaller injustices, like the way they expected her to be joined at the hip to Mistress Appleby and never have any friends or desires of her own.

Luckily, Jason Scott was well aware of her feelings on the matter, and when she failed to find an excuse to get away from Mistress Appleby, he eventually found his way over to where they were sitting. He was one of the few people she was allowed to interact with, mostly because one did not say no to the crown prince, not even when one was the governess of a high-born young lady.

"Forgive me, Mistress Appleby," he said, plopping himself down on the bench next to Kimberly's governess and doing a very convincing impression of a responsible young man, "but I need to borrow Kimberly for a bit."

Mistress Appleby gave a little scowl, but by now she knew better than to cross Jason. "Of course," she said begrudgingly, "but have her back as soon as you can. Her father doesn't like her running around unsupervised these days."

Jason looked affronted. "Am I not a worthy enough chaperone?"

Kimberly stifled a giggle. Jason stood and offered a hand, which she gladly took. He led her past her unhappy guardian and a gaggle of jealous-looking young women who somehow thought she was a threat to their designs on Jason.

"Thank you," she sighed as soon as they were out of Mistress Appleby's hearing. "She's getting better about not letting me find ways to escape."

He chuckled. "I noticed. Come on, there's someone I want you to meet."

She frowned unhappily, because she would have much rather gone off on her own, but went along with him anyway because it was better than going back to Mistress Appleby. That unhappy feeling turned into outright distaste when she caught sight of the last person she wanted to see waiting up ahead of them. She didn't even have to ask to know that Mister Oliver was the mysterious someone that Jason wanted her to meet.

"Jase," she hissed warningly, but Jason knew just as well as she did what had gone on in the fighting ring earlier that afternoon. And unlike her, he didn't seem bothered by it in the slightest. In fact, he practically pulled her along, knowing that she wouldn't protest too hard and risk creating a scene in the middle of the feast hall. "Come on, Jase, I don't like him."

"I'm not asking you to like him," Jason said serenely. "I'm just asking you to say hello so he'll stop bugging me about you."

"What's it to you?" she grumbled.

"He's my friend."

"Since when? The Olivers hate your father. Everyone knows that."

"True, but that doesn't mean they have to hate me."

She hated when he had a good point, but she also knew when she was beaten. She would let him have this victory, and she would do him this little favor, as much as it irritated her, because someday he might be able to help her in return. And because someday Jason would be the High King in his father's place, and then there would be no possibility of help, there would be a certainty. A High King even had the power to free a woman from an unwanted marriage, so it only made sense to try to stay on the future King's good side. Even if it meant having to play nice with someone she did not like.

As they drew closer, she realized that not liking the Oliver boy was going to be the hard part. In the fighting ring his helmet had kept his face more or less hidden from view, but he was not wearing his armor now. Now he wore the clothes of a courtier, although they were not as fine and pristine as the clothes that she and Jason wore, and they bore the unfamiliar colors of the Oliver family. It was strange to see Oliver green-and-white in her father's feast hall, but she had to admit, he wore his colors well. Then again, she thought in spite of herself, with a face like that he could probably wear anything well. He was gorgeous, and although he seemed almost unaware of it, Kimberly was suddenly having a hard time not noticing it.

He looked up expectantly as Kimberly and Jason made their way over to where he was sitting.

"Kimberly Hart, this is Thomas Oliver," Jason said when he and Kimberly had finally managed to worm their way into the tiny open space next to where Thomas Oliver was seated. People were pressed all around, but they hardly seemed to notice the intrusion; it did not escape Kimberly's notice that there was really only room enough for one to sit beside the young man.

"You can call me Tommy, if you want," he offered quietly, as if someone that good looking could truly be that shy.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Kimberly replied with what little disdain she could muster. It was very difficult to dislike him, as much as she had initially wanted to. Given the opportunity, she would have been perfectly happy to simply sit there and look at him all night. What in the world had happened to hating him?

In fact, she was no longer quite sure what had happened to anything. Being so close to him, watching him as he watched her, made her feel suddenly flustered, and all of her words deserted her. All of her words, that is, except for I wish Father would let me marry him.

She was immediately horrified at the thought; she had dealt with her share of young warriors before, but she preferred to fight them rather than be courted by them. Certainly none of them had ever made her feel like this, just from being introduced.

"Why don't you sit down, Kim?" Jason suggested. His tone was polite, but she detected a teasing note in there, too. "You look a little lightheaded."

She gave him her fiercest glare, but sat down anyway because she was feeling a bit lightheaded. Jason remained standing, she noted, blocking her and Tommy from Mistress Appleby's view. How convenient. She wondered what sort of game he was playing here.

Focusing on being suspicious about Jason made it easier to ignore how giddy she felt sitting next to Tommy.

"Do you like watching the fighting?" Tommy asked. Typical. During the summer, the games were just about the only thing the men in the castle could seem to talk about.

"No, not really," she replied. "I find it quite boring," she added, stopping just short of admitting that she only found it boring to watch because she preferred to participate.

"So why watch at all?" he asked, seeming genuinely confused.

"I don't have much choice in the matter," she grumbled. "My father insists that I attend."

"You weren't there for the first few rounds," he noted.

Ordinarily Kimberly had a series of rehearsed excuses prepared just for moments like this, but at the moment her mind was not functioning properly. It was still stuck on how good-looking Tommy was. Fortunately, Jason jumped in on her behalf.

"Kim here likes to play 'escape from the governess'," he explained, laughing. "So she can go shopping instead of being forced to watch the men and boys show off all day."

"Unfortunately Mistress Appleby is getting better at catching me," she muttered, flashing Jason a grateful look for his timely intervention.

"Well I'm glad she caught you today," Tommy admitted, "or else I might never have met you."

Kimberly's cheeks burned, and it only got worse when she found herself floundering for something to say. "Oh, I'm sure we would have met anyway," she said, tearing her gaze away from him. "After all, you're here tonight."

"Maybe, but your father wouldn't just let you be introduced to someone like me." By which, of course, he meant that an Oliver was beneath her father's notice, which she knew was true. "If I hadn't seen you earlier, I wouldn't have thought to ask Jason to introduce us."

Jason could hide his amusement no longer. "I may have forgotten to mention that Tommy was smitten at the first sight of you, Kim."

"Thanks a lot." She might grumble about it, but she did feel a little flattered. Between Tommy's good looks and his polite, almost-shy personality, he was actually quite charming when he wasn't beating her in the fighting ring. But what impressed her the most as the night went on was that he didn't just talk to her, he listened to what she had to say, too. In her experience, most men simply wanted her to be silent and listen to how wonderful they were. Despite her earlier reservations, spending the feast-night with him and Jason turned out to be a lot more fun than being forced to sit quietly next to Mistress Appleby all night. She was genuinely regretful when her governess finally came to collect her.

"It is almost midnight, young lady," Mistress Appleby reprimanded as she approached. By that point the crowd in the feast hall had thinned out enough that she could simply storm over and reclaim control of Kimberly. "You should have been in bed an hour ago."

Kimberly sighed and resigned herself to her fate. While Jason apologized to Mistress Appleby for stealing away her charge for so long, she expected an awkward, if cute, "it was nice meeting you" from Tommy. But instead he caught her hand and pressed it between the two of his and, looking her in the eyes, asked, "Will I see you again?"

The intensity of his gaze, and the warmth of his hands around hers, sent a pleasant jolt through her that for a moment left her at a loss for words. Don't just stare, idiot, she thought, for all the good it did her. Say something! Don't just stare and think how pretty his eyes are and wonder what it would be like to kiss those lips and...

"I, uh, well," she answered eloquently. "I'm always here at Torhart."

His smile threatened to dazzle her. She was actually glad when Mistress Appleby pulled her away from him, though she didn't hear a word of her governess's scolding. All she heard was Tommy's voice when he murmured, "Guess I'll just have to come back then."

It wasn't until she was back in her room and tucked into bed for the night that she remembered she'd been trying not to like him.