Warehouse 13
Bering and Wells; Cleena
AU inspired by A Knights Tale
Run and I will run with you. - Jocelyn; A Knights Tale
"I truly do not believe we should be doing this, ma'am."
"They are my dresses, are they not?"
"They are."
"Then I am the one who dictates who can and cannot wear them."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And I have told you, I am simply Helena while in private."
"But you are the daughter of the lord, and I am but the tutor's daughter."
"You are my friend, and that matters more than titles."
"Of course…Helena."
-oOo-
Maid Helena could not stand tournaments. They were nothing more than a crude display of brute strength; muscle ridden men who desire nothing more than to prove that they are physically dominant. There was no finesse, no intelligence involved.
Despite her hatred towards the games, her father still mandated her attendance. She had no choice but to waste her day moving from event to event and honoring those who won.
By the end of the first day of the tournament during her twenty-fifth year, however, her interest had been captured.
Not by the events, but by a single knight. One she had never seen before.
She first noticed him in the full armored sword fighting. Where the other knights would use strength and force, this knight used speed to evade them, then agility to hit them in the areas worth the most points.
She watched, enthralled, as he bested opponent after opponent. At the end of the day, he was the challenger against Sir MacPherson, the previous tournaments champion.
"Leena, who is he, the challenger?" she asked her handmaid as they watched the men size each other up.
"Sir Lattimer, milady," Leena replied.
"How have I never heard of him before?"
"Only started in tournaments earlier this year, but has been won quite a few honors already."
One of Helena's eyebrows quirked up, and she leaned forward in her seat. The fight before her started to pick up.
MacPherson, as usual, took the offensive. Lattimer, however, was prepared. The smaller knight blocked every attack; not with force, but by pushing MacPherson's blade to the side. Lattimer bid his time, until he found an opening.
Lattimer won, the first to beat MacPherson in years, then vanished before the celebration
-oOo-
Helena got her first actual look at Lattimer the next day, as he prepared his bow for the archery competition.
He was not what she had imagined. His shoulders seemed too wide for the armor he had worn. His stride seemed too heavy for the agility he possessed. He gave the air of yet another brute.
Still, his appearance was not bad, and he seemed to have maintained some of his youthfulness.
When he won, however, he lingered behind. He let the men congratulate him.
The changes confused Helena.
"I wish to meet him," she told Leena as they returned to the castle.
-oOo-
Helena pulled her hood lower over her face. The night was warm and the weather fair, but her identity had to remain hidden from the multitude of lamps that lit the tournament grounds.
"Are you sure about this?" Leena asked again as they stopped walking outside Lattimer's tent.
"Am I ever not sure?" she responded.
"No, but often you are sure about the wrong thing," Leena muttered as she rolled her eyes. She stepped into the tent.
Helena listened to her handmaid introduce her, then stepped into the tent herself.
Soft light from a fire flickered against the fabric of the tent.
Lattimer was kneeling in the center of the tent. Behind him was an older man. To the side were two younger men, one was about Lattimer's age and the other, whom Leena kept eyeing, was barely out of boyhood. A fifth figure lay sleeping in the corner.
She lowered her hood and let the light bathe her features.
"You may rise," she said.
They stood. Lattimer rose to his full height, while the others kept their heads bowed.
"I wish to commend you on your performance thus far, good knight," Helena said.
Lattimer dipped his head. "Thank you, milady."
"I also wish you and your crew luck in the morrow. As enjoyable as it was to see MacPherson bested with the sword, it would be even more so to see him bested in his favored event."
-oOo-
"The smith boy was quite attractive," Helena laughed lightly as they walked away from the tent.
Leena blushed in the darkness and ducked her head. "Quite," she agreed. "What of Lattimer?"
"He has his qualities."
"If your father…"
"He has mentioned nothing of that possibility."
The bite in her voice made Leena pull away slightly. Helena sighed.
"I apologize, Leena, I do not mean to be short. I simply wish my father would not hold that over my head."
"That is understandable, Helena. If he does follow through, however…"
"I would not be utterly upset with Lattimer."
-oOo-
"I am terribly sorry. My lady, please forgive me."
Helena ignored the dirt on her dress and turned to the woman still on the ground.
"There is no reason for you to apologize. I was the one who ran into you," she said as she helped the woman to her feet.
"I should have been paying attention to where I was going," the woman insisted. She gathered the things she had dropped, then straightened up.
She kept her head down. Her brown curls hid her face from Helena's view. Helena bent down to pick up the final item, a helmet Helena recognized as Lattimer's. The woman must have been the one sleeping during Helena's visit.
"You are on Sir Lattimer's team."
The woman nodded.
"I wish you best of luck in the joust," Helena said as she handed the helmet over.
"Thank you, ma'am."
The woman took the helmet and vanished into the rushing crowd.
Helena stared after her.
-oOo-
"What has you distracted so?" Leena murmured as they waited for the first joust.
Helena jumped slightly. "I apologize, what was your question?"
Leena laughed lightly. "There is something on your mind."
"Nothing of significance."
Leena smirked, but didn't press the topic.
Helena looked back towards Lattimer's crew.
Her mind was still on the woman. Something about her sparked something in Helena's mind and she wanted to see her again in the hopes to figure it out. The woman was not with the crew, however.
Helena finally gave up, and slumped back in her chair as Lattimer, once again looking oddly smaller in his armor, rode into the lane.
-oOo-
"Remove your helmet at once," the lord repeated.
Helena leaned forwards as the Lattimer showed signs of relenting. The man in armor did not have any resemblance to Lattimer. He was too small, too light-footed, too humble. He did not have the same ego Lattimer clearly did.
His shoulders slumped forwards and he lifted his hands to the helmet.
"Remove it," the lord barked when the man paused.
Helena's breath caught and the crowd gasped as the face became clear.
Sweat soaked curls framed a soft face. The dark hair contrasted the pale skin and green eyes.
The woman Helena had run into.
"State your name, girl," the lord demanded.
The woman squared her shoulders and stood even taller.
"My name is Myka Bering, tournament champion."
Helena froze at the name. It couldn't be. She glanced at her father; he clearly did recognize the name.
"You are no champion," MacPherson laughed. "You are but a woman, a lowly baremaid I assume."
"Regardless of gender and occupation, I bested you in both swordsmanship and the joust."
"A woman cannot best me."
"Then you do not trust your own eyes, as I am clearly the knight who just unhorsed you."
"You are no knight," the lord objected. "Woman cannot be granted that status."
"I believe I have proven that I am capable of knighthood."
Helena could feel the anger rising in the lord. She moved closer to him.
"Father," she softly said. "She had proven herself. Perhaps -"
"Enough," he growled at her. "Beyond the issue of being a woman, she participated under false pretenses, a false name." He turned back to the ring. "Guards, arrest her."
Helena looked at Myka and was surprised to find her looking back. Myka's mouth was pulled into a small smile that Helena couldn't help but return. They held each other's gaze even after the guards started to pull Myka away. There was no fear in Myka's face, just resignation.
"Wait," the lord called. "Let her stay in the arena as the awards are presented. She should know what she attempted to steal from a real knight."
The defiant look in Myka's eyes only intensified as the guards pushed her against a wall and held her there.
"In light of this reveal, Sir MacPherson is the tournament champion and shall receive all the awards that accompany it."
MacPherson bowed to the lord, then raised his arm in victory. The crowd gave subdued cheers.
"As is customary, Sir MacPherson shall receive the challenger's horse, as well as second pick from the next round of horses from the royal trainer and one hundred gold pieces."
Helena continued to keep her eyes on Myka as the prizes were listed. Myka did not let anything cross the barrier of defiance.
She waited for the customary closing remarks from her father, but her heart fell when he lifted his arm out so it was parallel to the ground. Her chest was heavy as she stepped forward and laid her arm on his.
Helena watched with a heavy heart as the realization crossed Myka's face.
"Finally, he has won the hand of my daughter."
-oOo-
Helena was numb.
As soon as she returned to her chambers for the night, she curled up on the ledge beneath her window and stared onto the grounds.
Her mind kept flashing between memories.
Running into Myka before the joust – MacPherson's lust filled look when they had met at the celebration feast – Myka being sent away after the cook caught her and Helena together – watching Myka fight with the sword – childhood days of trying on each other's clothes – The pain in Myka's face when Helena had been announced a prize
She closed her eyes and lowered her head.
When she looked up, her face was set.
She stood and walked out of her chamber.
-oOo-
To say the grounds were dark at night was a lie.
They were more than dark.
Not even the brightest lamp on a full moon could cut through the black.
Helena had never understood the phenomenon, but its existence had forced her to learn to navigate the grounds with no light.
She clearly wasn't the only one to do so if the soft voices from behind the tree meant anything.
"Perhaps it would be best if you found somewhere more secluded," she said as she rounded the tree.
"Helena," Leena gasped.
"This is your lady?" the other person quietly asked Leena. Helena could not make out the gender or age behind the voice.
"Yes, this is Maid Helena, daughter of the lord," Leena replied.
"No need to be so formal amongst friends," Helena said.
"Of course. This is Claudia, the blacksmith for the Lattimer crew."
"Leena!" Claudia exclaimed, the voice clearly female now.
"Your friend is locked away," Leena told her. "There is no time for secrets."
"It is time for certain secrets," Helena cut in. "I wish for your help to break Myka out and escape."
-oOo-
"How can we trust her?" Lattimer cried. "She has Myka locked away."
"My father had Myka locked away," Helena replied. "Despite my efforts."
"Yes, I'm sure you tried as hard as you could," the old man, Artie, growled.
"Yeah, enough to sooth her aching conscious," Lattimer mocked.
"Enough," Claudia yelled.
The two men turned from Helena and towards the girl.
"She is here to help. She knows the grounds, and has power in that castle."
Helena stepped forward. "Whether we work together or not, I will still attempt to get her out, as I assume you will. So, it would be mutually beneficial to cooperate with one another."
"Why do you even care so much?" Lattimer questioned. "You can just go marry your champion."
Helena took a deep breath to keep herself calm. "Why I care is my business; mine and Myka's," she said as calmly as she could. "And do not assume that I feel a thing for that lecherous man."
-oOo-
Helena spent the next day on edge, continuously going through the plan in her head.
If they failed, she would be the only one to escape execution. The others would lose their heads and she would be sentenced to life as a submissive wife to the worst possible man.
She saw the hints of fear in Leena every time they locked eyes, and knew Leena saw her own fear. The nod Leena gave her each time, however, helped both of them.
When it came time for Helena to begin her part of the plan, she embraced Leena for several moments.
"Stay safe," she told the girl. "Do not let the guards catch you. If they do, say it was under my orders and they may spare you."
Leena nodded.
-oOo-
It had been easy to convince the guard to leave his post. They all had a soft spot for Helena; the older from their memories of her as a child; the younger from their enchantment in her appearance.
Still, Helena lingered outside the door. She gripped the handle with one hand while the other rested flat against the wood.
Voices from down the hallway pulled her from her trance. She quickly opened the door and slid inside.
She faced the door as she closed it and held her breath until the voiced vanished.
"Helena?"
The soft question made her freeze again.
She took a deep breath and turned around.
Myka was standing in the center of the room. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself. Her skin was pale where it was not bruised. She was shivering violently.
Helena quickly stepped to her and wrapped her arms around her. Myka leaned into her, then practically collapsed.
Helena struggled to not drop her.
-oOo-
"We're almost there," Helena whispered.
Myka nodded. Her legs gave out a little more over the next few steps. Helena's arm around her tightened.
"We can make it," Helena continued. "Then we're free."
Myka pulled up some strength and her next few steps were more solid.
Helena felt the small ditch in the ground that meant the gate was just feet away. She reached out with her free hand and counted each step until her fingers skimmed the gate.
"We're here."
She got the gate open and practically pulled Myka through it. Another pair of arms grabbed Myka before she fully collapsed.
-oOo-
"Why are you so prepared to leave the life of comfort?" Claudia asked Helena.
The group had travelled as far as they could with Myka's condition and had pitched a small tent in a clearing.
Claudia and Helena sat just outside the tent flap. Steve, Artie, and Leena were tending to Myka's wounds inside the tent. Pete was pacing a few feet away.
Helena looked over her shoulder at the tent and smiled slightly.
"She's my knight."
-oOo-
Helena looked over her servant's – friend's – lover's shoulder and into the mirror.
Years had passed since she had first persuaded Myka to put on her dresses. Helena still enjoyed dressing her tutor's daughter up and, no matter how much Myka protested, she enjoyed it as well.
"They fit you. Perhaps you could be a Lady one day."
Myka laughed. "They are the right size, but they do not fit me. I was not made to be a lady."
"What then? What were you made for?"
The girl turned to face Helena.
"I was made to be a knight."