This story was written last year on the theme of Winter, and inspired by the Knights!AU we come up with on the Kilguin Chat ^^ I hope you'll enjoy the medieval setting ;)
It is in Winter that North awakes
Dressing itself in pure snowflakes
Breathe its freezing air, feel his still heart
Before too long though you shall depart
Soon will its whiteness harm your sight
And its King welcome you for the longest night
— Extract from The Longest Night Ballad, author unknown —
The coldness was biting the skin, sharp and icy. In this clear Winter morning the clouded sky was solely a white cover over the world dulling the bright sunlight. The land appeared hard and merciful under such weather. The rocks buried in the frozen ground were more solid than everywhere else and the icy patches were unforgiving paths hidden under the snow.
Light snowflakes were falling this day, covering the earth as hours passed from their freezing embrace. Though to the Northerners' delight the wind had ceased to howl over their lands. The icy hollow where the snow was falling was surrounded by tiered rocks. A natural arena built by the harsh North's winters. Common folks used to say it had been created in the footstep of a giant.
In the middle of the hollow a single man stood. A giant among men. And he puffed while looking down at his defeated enemy. His tanned and scarred chest was raising up and down, steam forming out of his mouth at each one of his breaths. His leather boots were planted firm on the ground, his guard still up despite that his adversary remained laid on the ground. His dangerousness was as clear as the North was cold. His clothing made of animal skins was a proof of his hunting skills. His sleeveless leather tunic was opened on his muscled chest where necklaces were hanging low. They were symbols of his victories as much as the large silver bracelets hugging his forearms.
He was wearing his colors proudly: a rich light blue he was the only one to bear. It was showing on the fabric at opening of his tunic and on the war paint striping his face and his arms. But the color he was the proudest of was the one of his king. A stark red he was bearing as a large belt around his hips.
From the tiers though only the blades of his scythes in both his hands were visible. Their shiny metal was dull in the cold morning light. The warrior lifted his head up pushing back his long blonde hair cascading to his hips and whose spikes were spotted with snowflakes.
He didn't lift his scythes above his head, he didn't scream loudly for the Gods to hear his voice. He let the people massed on the rocky tiers cheered him while his adversary was taken away, holding his dented armor.
Killer looked straight at his king up there on the royal rostrum with one silent question for him. Did they come all this way from the South... for this?
"I have to say this tourney outcome all of my expectations," Eustass Kid taunted his neighbor on the throne next to his. His feral grin warmed up his broad freezing frame, covered with as many furs as the North could provide. He looked down at the icy hollow extending in front of them, where Killer saluted him briefly, and his red eyes filled with pride. A shameless pride that was the apanage of the King of the South.
"Perhaps should have I brought children and give your knights challengers up to their level."
The King of the North stiffened on his throne carved in the rocky tier all around the field. But he remained dignified against Eustass' provocation. He stood straight and noble, on complete opposite to his southern counterpart who as sprawled on his seat. Such was the King of the North and he derived a certain satisfaction from annoying the King of the South by his composed attitude. Few emotions were showing on Trafalgar Law's face. His royal features were as cold as the snow falling on the arena where one of his last knights still in the competition was brought out by his companions.
"Your warriors truly are well-trained." Trafalgar conceded to his neighbor's surprise. "But please enlighten me on a matter: does every southerner man always wield such short blades to finish so quick?"
As Trafalgar expected, Eustass' grin turned upside down and he glared at the King of the North while his grip tightened around his drinking horn.
The King of the South snorted, "My men knew how to wield swords, what yours can't boast about."
"Are they? From what I can see one of my knights has succeeded to reach the final round."
"Cause we ain't fighting yet," Eustass smirked and leaned on Trafalgar's armchair, "But if it pleases you, I can show you… what we're learning to do in the South with our swords..."
The King of the North bit down the thousands of sharp remarks that threatened to spill from his mouth. Oh, he was craving simply to tell the King of the South all he could do with his sword, preferably something painful and far, far away from him!
However, in his cleverness, Trafalgar would not wipe his long planned scheme out for such a brief satisfaction. He didn't make the King of South coming in his kingdom for that purpose.
"The victor is yet to be designated. Why not letting this final round decided who wield is his sword best?"
For Trafalgar's greatest delight his herald blew loudly in his horn and prevented the King of South from retorting anything.
The powerful sound echoed in the rocky arena bringing an air of old solemnity within the audience.
"Fine ladies and noble lords! Folks of the North kingdom! Acclaim the valorous knights of the South!"
Law grunted internally. That idiotic bard! He specifically told him that 'knights' had no meaning for the South folk. They insisted on the fact they were warriors. All of them. They were hot headed fighters and Trafalgar would be glad not give them another reason to challenge somebody. In fact, this whole celebration had a main and important purpose. To win the favors of the South kingdom.
In fact, if Eustass hadn't been useful to Trafalgar, he would have get rid of the rude King of the South the moment he entered his city.
"May the Gods ear your applauses for their glorious victories," The herald continued under the cheers of the crowd. The tiers were looking like a sea of dull furs and gray colors. A large number of the North folk had come to assist to the tourney. The first one after the White Plague had ravaged the North kingdom many years ago. And Trafalgar couldn't help but being surprised by the enthusiasm of his people.
"On this sacred days preceding the Winter solstice, we celebrate the arrival of the longest night. This year our kingdom is blessed by the warm flame of the South. Long live his majesty, King Eustass!"
As Trafalgar expected Eustass stood up under the cheers of the crowd and the loud exclamations of his warriors down in the arena. He was so predictable... He lifted his drinking horn toward the audience, spilling beer everywhere at Trafalgar's feet. The last hardly held back a sigh. His patience had been put to a real trial since the King of the South's arrival. But if he had yield to the temptation of rolling his eyes each time Eustass was behaving in an undignified way for his rank, he would spend his time looking at the Gods.
The lion skin that was never leaving his shoulder was pushed back as the King of the South greeted the crowd. His flaming red hair were a bloody stain on the white and gray background of the arena. He was so ostentatious to Law's eyes. Displaying his pale scarred chest, wrapped up in the richest furs Trafalgar gave him as a gift. He was constantly showing off huge golden jewels: on his arms, around his neck and circling his forehead. Like his warriors he was clad in leather following a very precise code completely foreign to the Northerners. In addition, –and it was deeply annoying to Trafalgar– Eustass kept wearing war paint and more weapons than one could bear. He invited him in order for their kingdom to ally, not starting a war.
Trafalgar couldn't stand Eustass' red stare that he ran over every place he walked in like he owned everything.
The King of the North wasn't sure he would hold on this behavior longer. But he hadn't invited Eustass out of pure courtesy or even less by pleasure. Actually, the only thing that Trafalgar desired from him was his military power. As they proved during the tourney, the South folks were very good warriors. If Trafalgar was able to seal an alliance with them, the North will be safe from any invasion. Maybe that was for this wonderful price that the Gods put on Trafalgar's path a terrible obstacle such as the King of the South.
A high pitched cheer caught Trafalgar's attention. Right beneath him the princess had rose from her royal seat. Her brown hair, braided in the traditional Northern fashion had been arranged around a simple silver tiara and her light yellow dress bounced as she leaped excitedly.
"Lami!" Trafalgar scolded discreetly, with that royal way he had to speak without troubling his composed expression.
His beloved sister immediately stopped and glanced at him guiltily. Although even him couldn't take her smile off her face. She had faced all the terrible events the North kingdom went through by Law's side while being seven years younger. When their parents died she mourned but never lost her beautiful smile. Reminded everyone of the beauty of their late queen. Sometimes Trafalgar wondered where his baby sister had found the strength to overcome these tragedies.
Lami might have been dressed with the same refinement and the same yellow colors than Law, they were like the night and the day. She was as cheerful and full of life that he was solemn and dead on the inside. Lami used to say he was an old man inside a young man's body. On many points he couldn't prove her wrong. But she was a princess. She had to be up to her rank not cheering for a foreign king. Especially this one!
The King of the North sat up at his turn. The heels of his boots clicked on the rocky rostrum. He was majestic in the silver armor cladding his upper body. On his arms and shoulders elegant pieces of armor equipped his lean frame while on his chest the coat of arms of his house were carved. Golden lines formed a refined heart well-matched with the long yellow padded coat he wore underneath his armor. His lordly steps made his long black cape floating behind him. The clothing of wool topped with expensive soft fur protected the King of the North from the harsh cold of his kingdom. He opened his arms, black gloved hands up and the crowd's cheers faded. Waiting for their king to speak.
"People of the North! Brave warriors of the South! We are coming to the last combat of the Winter solstice tournament."
Trafalgar's people cheered at his claim, with more enthusiasm he ever thought the North folk to be capable of.
"Might as well declare our victory right away." Eustass snorted quietly by Trafalgar's side.
"I would advise you to think twice before claiming a victory to soon," The last answered with tight lips.
"True. This won't be a victory, just a good reminder."
"Which reminder may I ask?"
"That you're just a bunch of nobles in shiny armors playing warriors."
Trafalgar's patience had long come to its end by now. He could stand a lot, the King of the South's rude and pervert behavior, his constant provocations... Trafalgar knew he was looking for a fight and nothing would please the red haired king more than his counterpart fighting back. The King of the North didn't want to give him this satisfaction. But he wouldn't let his knights get belittled. Not by such southern barbarian!
"My knights have more valor than you'll ever be able to see, dear Eustass," The King of North responded with a sickeningly sweet tone.
The King of the South leaned towards Trafalgar, taking advantage of his height to invade his personal space. Uncaring of the crowd's eyes all over them.
"Sweetheart..." Eustass snickered sounding like he was having a great time pissing of the other king, "This ain't fighting. This is a jest of a fight twisted with a bunch of stupid rules and codes you called chivalry… There's nothing to see."
That was it. Trafalgar's patience snapped suddenly like a frozen stick under a rude man's step. It's been three days that he was letting the King of the South do as he pleased. Trafalgar promised he wouldn't let that happen anymore.
"In that case I suggest you to pay great attention to this final round."
With that, the King of the North smiled. A simple smile that made all of the guards posted at the ends of the royal rostrum stiffened in fear.
The King of the North's voice echoed loudly in the arena when he spoke again, "To challenge Killer from the Southern kingdom, acclaim our undefeated champion, Sir Penguin of the Frozen Seas!"
Penguin winced under his great helm when the horns and bagpipes began to play. It had nothing to do with the traditional music of the North which he loved and played. What made the knight uneasy while he stepped in the snowy arena was what was happening above, on the royal rostrum.
If he was truly honest, things started to get bad the moment the Southern folk arrived at the castle in the Polar Kaer a few days ago. However, he had troubles understanding how the situation escalated so quickly.
"Penguin!" It was Uni, trying to force his way through the squires tidying up the edge of the arena. Penguin's fellow knight joined him, out of breath because he ran in full armor to get to him. That wasn't foreshadowing anything good.
"He smiled!" Uni huffed, getting his high wool scarf out of his mouth.
Penguin's face lost the few colors it had. Around him his wounded friends and the squires stilled and for those who were the most obvious, they took a step backward, as of a lightning was about to strike straight for the Gods' realm.
"Oh shit..." Shachi cursed from the stretcher he was lying on, his injured leg dressed in fresh bandages, "You sure about this?!"
"I wouldn't have run all the way here for nothing Shach', I saw it."
Penguin would have gladly slammed his face in his hands but he had his shield, adorned with the golden heart of the North, in one hand and his knight spear in the other.
"Did he say anything?" Ikkaku asked. They all knew it didn't really matter. From that smile anything could be possible now, without a doubt for the worst.
"Nothing," Uni answered worriedly. "But this isn't good…"
"This is a nightmare!" Ikkaku topped wincing because of the bruises that had spread on the left side of his face.
"It's like the Pit all over again!" Clione stormed in defeat.
"No it's not!" Pen countered with fire. "It was the first challenge! We just weren't prepared for them to be so strong at archery that's all!"
"But they beat the shit out of us with their bloody Southern bows," Uni argued as a matter of fact.
Penguin turned quickly to his brothers in arms, "I can't believe your sorry faces! We weren't that bad! Fine, we lost the run up the mountains–"
"And the eating contest."
"And the Ruins Maze."
"But that's not the point here–" Shachi topped the other knights before Penguin interrupted him.
"Exactly! We won competitions too! Remember the swimming feat up the grand stream? And the close combat against the bears and we won the snowball fight–"
"There!" Shachi shouted, "Snowball fight!"
"What's with that snowball fight?" Penguin asked with concern.
"That's the heart of our problem!"
"Snowballs?"
"No! Silly trials!" Shachi exploded while rising as high as he could on his elbow without moving his leg. "Our king has become so obsessed with putting Eustass Kid's back in his place that he kept adding new contests to the celebration!"
Trafalgar's knights all nodded and Penguin finally opened his eyes on a situation he hadn't fully acknowledged.
"It feels like a lifetime that we hadn't celebrate anything," Shachi told in the name of everyone, "But this solstice has lost all meaning when it became a contest about which kingdom would win the most trials."
Shachi was right. Each time his King and his southern neighbor were in the same room their bickering threatened to put the whole kingdom to fire and the sword. And his King had smiled! This diplomatic visit was about to get in dire straits because they were ruled by haughty children.
Penguin shouldn't think that way of his King but he had known him much more in control of himself. That red haired seemed to really get on his nerves. It was a relief Bepo wasn't able to go down in the arena. Penguin was pretty sure Law's familiar polar bear would have 'accidentally' take a bite of the King of the South.
"We can't let them ruin the peace we were trying to make at the first place," Uni cleverly settled.
"But there's only one fight left!"
"And our kingdom won as much trials as the South kingdom!"
"What should I–"
However just as Penguin asked for his brothers in arms for advice, the voice of his King called him. And Penguin had no choice but to move forward and enter the final round.
The knight of the Frozen Isles would have gladly preferred being eaten alive rather than stepping forward on the frozen ground. His full silver armor was reflecting the dim light in the freezing air. Snowflakes were getting stuck on the snow leopard fur around his shoulders. He pulled down the visor of his knight helmet with resolution despite the high stakes of the fight he was about to go in. His body acting in a way more assured than he was inside. The red feathers spiking out on the top of his helmet were standing up proudly and giving him the appearance of the mighty knight he wasn't in reality.
Yet, as he was getting closer to his adversary Penguin felt torn apart. If he was losing this last fight, the North kingdom would be humiliated and his king would lose face. And if he was winning the South kingdom would be hurt in its pride and the diplomatic process would go two steps backward. How? Just how could he prevent the trigger of a conflict between two kingdoms with a shield and a spear?
The knight of the North arrived in the middle of the arena under the cheers and applauses of the spectators. They seemed so hopeful that Penguin would make the tables turn in the North's favor. They were in dire need of a victory. Through the scattered snow falling Penguin looked up to his King and as is the Northern custom, he bowed down to show his respect. But Trafalgar seemed more absorbed by the red haired king than his own knight. Both kings were glaring at each other, so darkly Penguin wouldn't have been surprised if the thunder suddenly struck right where their eyes were meeting.
Worry creped under Penguin's armor, slowly, and tightened his grip around him like the coldness of the North used to feel like when he was a child. In fact, Penguin hadn't expected to be affected up to the level of childhood angst. He was progressively seized by a deep unease whose he realized as the seconds passed that it wasn't his own.
Killer was looking at his King the same way Penguin looked at his own. The knight glanced at his adversary and Killer felt his eyes on him on the instant. As quickly as a fight required Penguin was pinned down by the eyes of the Southern warrior. It happened so fast it took Penguin's breath away. He could barely see Killer's eyes through his heavy blonde fringe, but he felt the weight of his stare lingering on him. Sharing the same concern regarding the issue of the fight they were about to begin. Except those sharp blue eyes pierced through Penguin's very soul as if Killer was searching what he was truly made of.
It triggered a strong pride coming from the Northern knight. If he didn't know what was his best course of action yet Penguin suddenly had the conviction that he would show to the warrior, why he among the others had made it to the end of the tourney! A bit of shame followed and burnt Penguin's cheeks. It wasn't very noble from him to think about crushing his enemy under his strength. But Penguin hadn't been able to help it. Just a glance from the warrior of the South had set fire to Penguin's spirit! And it frightened the young knight.
Trafalgar announced the beginning of the final round, his voice carried powerfully in the whole arena, "May this fight be one of nobility and–"
"–let the best warrior win!" Eustass yelled over the King of North.
Killer didn't even bother to nod and took his place in the arena. Penguin followed shortly after, not before he glanced at his king once more. But Trafalgar was too busy trying to fry the King of the South alive with his eyes.
The steel covering Penguin's legs clicked on the frozen ground. As the horns were sounding the beginning of the room his heart was stammering against his chest armor. He still didn't know what he was supposed to do. He readied his spear and hold up his shield, taking a stance by habit and training but he had not a single idea about how this was going to end.
Who should win, Penguin had no idea. The only thing he was certain of was that he had to fight. He felt his opponent a dozens of feet in front of him ready for combat. So Penguin followed, getting easily his fighting spirit back in synchronization with Killer. Sparring was easy. It didn't require Penguin to think, only to feel. And he felt the man facing him with an impatience that was growing on him too.
Although his stance was so different from the knight's one. Slightly hunched with his arms arched behind him forming elegant arc ended by his scythes. His feet were planted firmly on the ground, but not static. An energy was coming out of him, strong and burning, ready to spring on his adversary at any moment. Meanwhile Trafalgar's knight held his spear horizontally until it's iron pointed head aim for his opponent's heart. He adjusted his heavy shield in protecting his both his side and his front. If it was for Penguin, he would have chosen a lighted shield and not hold it half with the purpose of showing off his realm's herald.
Where Penguin was rigorous and noble Killer was feral.
Between the knight of the North and the warrior of the South the world went still and quiet, even the snowflakes seemed to have slowed down their fall. During this everlasting moment the crowd, the kings and the fighters held their breaths.
Then Killer sprung forward. With so much speed that if Penguin hadn't been a trained fighter he would have bring his shield up a second too late.
The first blow the warrior of the South struck Penguin with echoed loudly in the arena under an explosion of cheers.
Immediately Killer withdrew, confirming this strike had just been a showdown of strength. Penguin hadn't felt the full impact on his shield like he expected to. In fact, the knight had been so prepared to the impact he had put a lot of his power in a solid stance. Making him just not nimble enough to dodge Killer's second hit. Instead, Penguin had to take it directly, weakening his stance as his spear stopped the warrior's scythes.
The weapons grated against each other and suddenly Penguin's field of vision was shadowed by a mane of spiky blond hair. From this close distance the knight could smell Killer's beasty and sweaty smell, truly giving Penguin the impression of fighting with a lion with very long claws.
Except right before disengaging with him, the lion said only for the knight to hear: "You have to beat me!"
Killer's scythes slid along Penguin's spear and they faced each other again, moving slightly around each other. And then what the southerner had just said reach Penguin.
"What?"
For only response, Killer feinted Penguin on his right while twisting his body just enough for his left arm to gain a moment and hit the knight's unshielded arm. The scythe drew an arc in the air and whipped Penguin's armor. And before he had the time to turn the second curved blade had hooked on the upper edge of his shield. For a brief instant Killer was close to him again and he repeated in a breath.
"Beat me!"
Penguin, already confused by his role in this political masquerade, kept up with a dumbfounded expression. What did the warrior actually want? Was he trying to unsettle him? Penguin had already dealt with deceitful adversary before. They were ready to make up the most blatant lies to make him loose his focus for one decisive instant.
That's why Penguin first gritted his teeth and started to attack. He made his spear turn in one hand. But Killer didn't let himself be distracted by this easy trick. In fact, it seemed to deeply offend him. Penguin earned two more hits on his forearm and helmet, leaving longue scratches against the metal of his armor.
'Beat me', the warrior had said… Did he really mean…? Penguin casted him a questioning look from behind the visor of his helmet. But it was hard to concentrate while fighting such a skilled warrior! The lord of the Frozen Isles was starting to huff and sweat terribly as he was trying to keep up with Killer's speed.
What if Killer was offering Penguin an escape from that political nightmare their stubborn kings had created? What if it was the solution to this childish competition that had been going on during the whole celebration? Penguin dodged a scythe and blocked another with his shield right on time, getting in rhythm just as his mind was setting on Killer's plan. Make the North kingdom win would make the host winner of the celebration. It meant either Killer wasn't fearing his king's reaction to defeat or he truly wanted to start a war.
Penguin couldn't decide. He was rarely taking important decision by himself. The knight guard of the North kingdom was noble assembly were they always united and work together as a whole. He couldn't take this decision alone!
Using a feint Penguin had invented with Shachi, he fooled Killer to go forward and used this advantage to strike the warrior's side with his spear. The pointed end barely scratched the leather and brushed passed Killer's hair.
When they both turned to face each other again, Penguin called out: "You'll let me win?" He wanted to know.
On the only part of Killer's face that Penguin could see, a dangerous smirk stretched the southerner's lips.
"That's not what I said…"
Killer slowly put his arms behind him, hiding his blades behind his back and as Penguin was wondering what the hell the warrior was doing, Killer leaped with more lightness Penguin would have expected from such heavy warrior. Killer turned in the air and the scythes Penguin had lost sight of suddenly reappeared and brutally caught Penguin's shield.
Both scythes brought the shield down, more powerfully than the previous blows and Penguin was forced to let go or he would have left his arm in this foolish attempt to resist. The shield emblazoned with the golden heart flew away and fall down loudly on the frozen ground. It left a fresh trail in the snow under the crowd's screams and applause.
Penguin's grip tightened on his spear, barely feeling his brutalized arm, while Killer progressed slowly upon him. His rolling gait was the one of a predator that made Penguin gulped. He was feeling much lighter with his shield but also more, much more, vulnerable!
Beat him? Penguin couldn't– he wouldn't take that risk! So he held on under Killer's assault not knowing what to do apart from not dying.
With only a spear left, Penguin had been able to move out of the warrior's reach, but Killer was taking a great advantage of his weakened defense. While trying to come up with a decent strategy Penguin couldn't help but think about the mediocre performance he was giving here. Admittedly, he had landed some hits on his adversary but he was essentially in defense. Constantly moving backward.
Penguin knew, from having sat in the arena man times since his youth, that despite its quite large dimensions the tiers were offering a pretty good view of the battle ground. From where they sat, the North folk had a beautiful view of Penguin losing ground to southern opponent, from the bench Trafalgar's knight guard could followed worriedly how their friend almost dodged Killer's attacks. Their eyes were going back and forth between Penguin's fight and the royal rostrum where their king had sealed his face with an icy cold expression.
Both kings had the best view of the whole arena, and could tell without a doubt that Penguin's gritted teeth and redden face was the beginning of the end for the young knight.
Penguin huffed little clouds of steam. He had to take the upper hand! Killer wouldn't just let him a sec– He blocked an upcoming attack with the shaft of his spear and took the second blade on his side again. Penguin was raging, understanding that Killer was purposefully not hurting him deeply but angering him instead.
It was hitting Penguin's pride dearly that the southerner toyed with him that way. Yes, he was young and hadn't fought many battles, but if he was Trafalgar's knight it was meaning something! He made it up to there on his own! His king had given him a chance and he always tried to live up to his expectations. Trafalgar wasn't asking much. Loyalty, courage, respect… most of the chivalry code his knights were following had been imposed by the knights themselves. They wanted the King of the North to be proud of them. And Penguin refused to bring shame upon his king!
He had to stand up and attack!
Killer was on him before Penguin ended that thought and forced him to block once more. Except this time Penguin used the shaft of his spear to knock Killer backward. The warrior wasn't expecting Penguin to charge head on and allowed the knight enough time to kick his shin and unbalanced him.
Revived by this turn of events Penguin took advantage of his dominant posture to move Killer's scythes out of his way and slid the end of his spear toward the blonde's head. The blade of the spear pierced through Killer's heavy mane like paper and as he pulled himself out of Penguin's way, blonde strands fell lightly on the snowy ground.
Killer's knuckles turned white around the handle of his scythes, but he was smiling. A delicious fire began to spread within him. Finally… a bit of challenge!
Truly Killer thought the northern knight would keep stepping back. And he never been so glad to be proven wrong. He easily bent down to avoid a powerful hit from his enemy's spear and assured his stance to let him launch another strike. Killer was fascinated by that weird weapon of him. Rare were the warriors wielding a spear in the South. They were heavy and not as efficient as a sword or a bow. But that Penguin knew how to make it a weapon of choice.
Killer had watched him closely during the previous rounds. Studying the way his hands were handling the shaft, the bend of the knight's back, the space between his spread legs… maybe he'd ask the knight to show him a trick of two.
Penguin was taking the upper hand, pushing him to strengthen his stance and adopt a more defensive approach. Killer made his scythes whistles and nimbly jumped around his adversary, but Penguin had now gotten the rhythm of his attacks. Good… Killer thought as he pulled his weapon back at the last time. Let's see how he handle a harder pace.
Against Penguin's expectation Killer didn't strike him with his blade but kicked him out of nowhere. The northern knight took the full blow and fell back brutally on the frozen ground. Around them the shouts of the crowd became deafening.
Killer joined him in two steps but Penguin was waiting for him already.
Before the warrior understood his mistake, the heavy spear was hitting his legs and he followed Penguin on the ground. The last got quickly back on his feet and threw one of Killer's scythes away with a kick. Killer couldn't help a bright smile that twisted his scarred face.
That was dirty from the usually noble and well-behave knight! Killer was convinced they couldn't be as honorable as they tried to appear. Real fighter couldn't play fair… The blonde warrior gave head-butt in Penguin's armored stomach and startled the knight more than he actually hurt him. Killer tried to bring them both down again, throwing his last scythes to reach the other. But Penguin was staying up on his feet with the help of his spear.
Both out of breath, their eyes locked and they knew. A few more hit would sealed the fate of their fight. Although the crowd, their king, the winter celebration couldn't be as far away as it was right now. In this very moment nothing else mattered to them than victory.
They leaped toward each other at the same time and their weapon clashed with the strength of thunder hitting the ground. Killer's scythe aimed for Penguin's head. If the knight wasn't dodging, he would take such a strong blow it would knock him down for days. But a fight was fight and Killer wasn't going to go easy on him. Against his predictions though, the curved blade only caught the feathery edge of Penguin's helmet, brutally knocking off the piece of armor off the knight's head.
Penguin stepped out heavily and the arena fell into silence, waiting for Trafalgar's knight to move after taking such a powerful hit. He shook his head but stayed on his feet, and when Killer faced him again a sharp pain throbbed on his right side. Then Killer realized, the blood that started dripping on the knight's spear… was his.
A bloodlust painted Killer's sight in red. Now this fight was getting serious! He had been waiting for this for the whole celebration!
Uncaring of his injury, the warrior unleashed, and started fighting with more and more rage. Harder, meaner and Penguin was answering with the same ferocity. But he was still holding back.
Knights and their precious code of honor, Killer snorted to himself. It was going to be Penguin's doom. That was sad. He had so much potential. If only he was throwing away his precious little rules. He could have won this fight probably. But he gave Killer time to collect himself and catch the end of his spear.
With a well-placed head-butt Killer knocked Penguin down. Without his helmet, Penguin's head felt like it split under the hardness of the southerner's thick skull. Trafalgar's knight suddenly fell on the ground in the middle of fresh snow. New flakes landed lightly on his brown hair and his bleeding eyebrow. His throat was burning. But he had to get up. Oh his armor felt so heavy! Get up! He had to!
He couldn't even look at his king from there or the knights of the guard. But he knew. Every eyes had landed on his barely moving body. And Penguin could hear their voices in his head. Was he going to rise up? Were they all asking themselves.
Penguin heard a clinging of metal similar as a blade hurting the ground and in his field of vision caught a glimpse of a curved blade hitting the ground away from his reach.
A scythe?
Suddenly, footsteps were audible very close to him. And as terror was motioning Penguin's body to sit up, his spear was yanked on one end. As if lying on the ground wasn't humiliating enough, Killer now intended to beat him with his own weapon!
The blonde dropped to his knees, straddling the knight's midsection to keep him down, with disappointment tightening his lips.
Penguin's head was spinning but he refused to yield his spear to his adversary. If he let it go, he would lose. Gritting his teeth as he pushed back, and tried to get Killer off him. But they took hold of the spear with both hands. Each fighter pushing to knock down his adversary. Stuck in a challenge of pure strength.
Alas, their fight had left them weary and got them tired. But their honor was at stake here. And they wouldn't have let go even if the Gods themselves had told them to.
Penguin attempted kicking but his legs were definitely stuck under the warrior's weight. If only– Just a hand free could help him! Just one!
But he couldn't think about anything helpful with Killer overpowering him from all his height. They were inches apart, and the only thing that prevented Killer from finishing him was the spear between them! The southerner's long hair was falling around his face where his clenched jaws threatened to break under the effort. And the crowd started to shout their names in an incredible chaos.
A crazy idea popped into Penguin's head. Something he saw before but he couldn't believe it was the only thing that came to his mind in search for help!
But he hadn't more time to spare! Let's give a try to the foolish ideas!
Knowing how much he was going to regret that, Penguin straightened up as much as he could, assured his holds and kissed his opponent full on the lips.
This cunning strategy had an even better effect than what Penguin planned. Completely taken aback Killer's grip loosen and he simply opened his mouth in confusion. It was all Penguin could ask for. The knight kicked Killer off him and before the warrior collected himself, Penguin yanked back his spear. He lifted his weapon up and brought it down brutally, hitting Killer's head with a full blow.
Penguin stood up on his trembling legs, taking a bit of his weight on his spear and looked around him, before his eyes finally landed on Killer. Lying on the ground. Defeated.
Penguin had few memories of what happened next. He was mostly grateful from having survived this fight. Numb, he had let himself been carried out of the arena by his fellow knights, under the thunderous applause of the North folk.
He didn't know it yet but his victory would be the start of one of the greatest celebration a Winter solstice the North kingdom ever saw.
During the longest night of this year, people seemed to have never went through the harsh cold, the plagues, the wars… the North kingdom wasn't feeling quiet and weak anymore. They had won! And tonight the Gods were going to hear their glory!
This night, the cold itself seemed to withdraw. It couldn't pass the threshold of the castle where the warmth and the bright lights were keeping the darkness at bay. This night people sang and drank, like they hadn't in a very long time. Thanks to the triumph of their knight, they remembered they knew how to celebrate, be proud and happy.
To everyone's surprise, the southern warriors had acclaimed the knights' victory with as much enthusiasm. Of course Eustass Kid had had to declare the North winner of the tourney and Trafalgar couldn't have been more pleased than when the proud red head had to bow before him. But no resentment had been held. In fact, the southerners truly appreciated the knights' new strategy. A fight was a fight, and Penguin had won breaking the valor of nobility Trafalgar's court was holding so dear. Nothing could have please the southerners more than seeing a real dirty fight.
Well, apart from alcohol.
Wine was flowing at the royal banquet and was blurring the border between North and South. The ones that had fought against one another in the past were now holding their shoulders and laughing at loud while the bards kept the music going.
Surely the North hadn't seen a feast like this one for a very long time. With a multitude of roasted meat and hot piece of pies, dancing and cheers by the fireplace and maybe the beginning of a bond forging between two kingdoms.
"Where is our hero going?" Shachi shouted, a half empty cup of whine in one hand and the other refilling Heat's tankard.
"Need some air, I'll be back right away," Penguin apologized with reddening cheeks to all the eyes that had landed on him. But everyone's attention shifted quickly back to Shachi who was explaining with great seriousness how it was bad luck in the North not to finish a bottle.
On the other side of the table Eustass and Killer toasted loudly to the Winter and its great tourneys. The last was partying with everyone, uncaring of the bruise that formed on his temple after his defeat in the arena. Scars were something every southerner displayed with pride. Among the red and smiling faces it appeared like there had never been a rivalry between the kings of the North and the South.
Killer knew better though, and he pretended having drunk too much as an excuse to follow Penguin, he just saw leaving the table. The warrior stalked him to the balconies surrounding the vast hall, they were all celebrating in. The knight walking slowly in the dark of the second floor, had swapped his shiny armor for a simple black and white doublet with a short cape draping one of his shoulder under the fur hugging his neck.
Killer hadn't left his usual leathery armor, if anything the light blue fabric on the front of his outfit had loosen a bit, showing his skin more. In his back, he still wore his two scythes. Not a very stealthy outfit, yet Penguin startled when Killer leaned at a distance from him on one of the pillars of the balcony.
"Does your king know?" The southerner asked crossing his arm while casting a look down on his mates and the distinguished gathering below.
Trying to take his composure back, Penguin's eyes imitated Killer's.
"What does my king is supposed to know?"
"That you're a cheater."
Penguin's hands slipped from the balustrade they had settled on. Did he expect such a straight forward question? Killer couldn't tell. Or rather didn't care. The only thing that interested him was how Penguin was fumbling for a good answer.
"I didn't– actually cheated," Penguin settled for.
The southerner smirked, his long spiky blonde hair moving lightly as he shook his head.
"Technically? And what kind of technic was that?"
The knight's cheek reddened to a deeper color and he sighed.
"You're right… I shouldn't have done that."
"Once again, that's not what I said…" The warrior made a step forward and rested his hip against the balcony, focusing on Penguin. From up there, the hubbub from the feast was softened and Penguin heard Killer even when he murmured, "You keep putting words in my mouth."
"B–Because, you aren't clear!" Penguin defended himself, "You just drop hints and let me handle everything! I simply wanted to– I don't know… not screwing this tourney?"
"In that case it looks like you succeed," Killer calmly told, and Penguin realized he hadn't paid attention to how deep and calm the southerner's tone could be. Completely opposite to his savage way of fighting. He pointed with a gesture of his head the feast down below, "No one has challenged anyone or started a war."
"I guess you deserve your share of gratitude for this as well," Penguin pointed out.
"Why's that?"
"You knew the best course of action was letting the North win the tourney." The knight faced Killer whom the hair had took a darker color in the shadow of the balcony. He could see from closer than he had been before, the broad shoulders and the muscles threatening to rip the intertwined fabric and the leather on the warrior's chest. "Thank you." Penguin added.
"Keep your gratitude, I have no use of it," Killer brushed aside firmly while resting more comfortably right next to the northerner, "You won our fight."
"No," Penguin insisted, "I wasn't fair… My king didn't say anything about it but, in another context I'd have been blamed from such deceitful behavior."
"Deceitful…" Killer rolled on his tongue, "Such a fancy word for a simple kiss."
Penguin ran a hand in his dark hair, "I am truly sorry, I don't know what got into me! The last thing I wanted was to offended you!"
"I'm not–"
"I wasn't thinking. It was wrong and–" Penguin couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence, remembering that precise moment when he threw away all nobility and used the lowest tactic he ever came up with.
The warrior lowered his head and sighed. Then he threw his long hair back and straightened, inches from Penguin, with a scowl.
"Well, now I am offended."
"What? You mean you weren't?"
"Now– how do you say that within your little guard? I am compelled to request a compensation?"
The knight lost his words, unable to tell if Killer was still jesting. Penguin was missing his weapon to deal with him. Fighting was easy, but trying to figure out what Killer wanted was far beyond Penguin's skills.
"A compensation… for?"
Killer leaned a few inches toward Penguin, "I've been stolen a kiss. Like you said, in a complete unfair and dishonorable way."
Penguin couldn't move, hooked until Killer come to his point. A mix of guilt, eagerness and appeal made Penguin shivered. All around him the world had blurred and softened, apart from Killer.
"Are you willing to assume my payback?"
For only answer Penguin nodded. He wasn't a cheater. He was always playing fair… he thought so?
All thought instantly left his head, when Killer closed the distance between them and took his mouth. Pressing his lips against his and stealing Penguin's breath away. A warmth pooled inside the knight, hotter and better than the fireplace felt like in the heart of Winter.
Too quickly the warm southerner's lips left Penguin's and the last took a well needed breath. He had momentarily forgot where they were and what was is name. But there was one thing Penguin was sure of and Killer said it for him: "Now, we're even."