Chapter Two

There were bruises, she thought, where bruises were not meant to be. There wouldn't have been quite so many if she had armor that fit, but that was beyond her price range. Far, far beyond it. If she could move more freely, she knew she would do better.

As it was, however, she had to deal with what she had. Kenneth Tanaka was a big man in his life and now his big armor all but swallowed Brittany. Puck thought it was hilarious. Brittany used to think so until she'd tried jousting in it. "I'm only going to lose over and over if I can't move properly," she muttered one day, kicking at a loose shoulder plate.

Michael picked it up from the ground and settled it with the rest of the armor, shoulders lifting in a shrug. "You wanted to do this, Brittany. You'll have to deal with it."

"It's a mess!" She motioned to the chest piece, severely dented from where it had been struck in her earlier match. "There's nothing to keep its shape and now it looks foolish. I look foolish, Michael. I just…" She sighed, pouting slightly over the mess of her armor. "I don't want to look silly with everyone watching me. I want them to see how talented I am. Bryan is. That's all."

This wasn't the first time this conversation had come up since the start of this whole thing and it wouldn't be the last. Michael knew it, just as he knew they couldn't afford new armor. Brittany's done well considering what she has to work with, but they all knew that she wouldn't win any of the higher up matches this way.

"Maybe you can seduce a blacksmith into making you better fitted armor," Puck suggested with a smirk and Brittany blushed, scratching at the back of her neck to keep from looking too embarrassed by the comment.

"I'm a boy in their eyes, Noah."

"So what?" he quipped, cackling when she only blushed more. Michael smacked him upside the head and Artie sent him a withering look, but it didn't take from his amusement. "I'm just saying, there's bound to be at least one of them interested in playing with a handsome young lad, Bryan. Go see which of them is willing to play with you."

This only earned another smack from Michael, the young man rolling his eyes before looking back to Brittany. "See if one will make armor for you with the promise of pay after you win. You cannot win without proper armor. It's kind of just a big circle. There's bound to be at least one sympathetic man out there, right?"

And Brittany, who believed there was good in any and all people, agreed with a smile and a nod. It couldn't be that hard, after all.

It turned out to be extremely hard.

She went to at least two blacksmiths and a farrier, all of whom turned her away as the phrase, "and then I'll pay you after I win the tournament" escaped her mouth. It wasn't fair because Brittany knewshe was trustworthy and that she'd somehow pay even if she didn't win, but none of these men trusted her.

"You don't buy armor with a wink and a smile, lad," one of them guffawed. The next didn't even hear her out, but held up a hand to stop her words before she even opened her mouth. He continued to work as he pointed across the way at a lone woman working and sweating over a fire. "Try the woman," he grumbled with a smirk. "I 'magine she's not too picky with her customers."

Brittany was desperate now. She'd been at this for so long. The blacksmiths' areas were hot and sticky and she just wanted to escape back to her tent. This woman was her last hope, and she wandered almost hesitantly towards her station with a hopeful smile on her face.

The woman didn't even look up. "No."

The smile Brittany wore faltered and her hands fiddled with the hem of her tunic, twisting it as she tried to think of something to say. She didn't get the chance.

A temper must have been brewing inside the woman because she suddenly looked up at Brittany with eyes feline in color, all greens and browns and golds. Lion eyes, she thought with another hopeful smile. Maybe if she kept looking pathetic, the woman would see how desperate she was with her lion eyes. "Just because I'm a woman doesn't mean I trade my work for sex or handsome favors, boy. You want armor, then you need to have the money to purchase it."

"But I can't win a joust if I don't have proper armor," Brittany implored. "And if I can't win, I won't have money to pay for anything. If you could just-"

"I don't run a charity, Sunshine," the woman snapped. "I run a business. So unless you can pay me up front, I can't do shite for you. Good day." She pushed back her golden hair and turned from Brittany, silent and determined to ignore the knight at her side.

For a long moment, Brittany watched the other blonde shape a horseshoe, eyes glued to her hammer as she pondered what to say. Eventually she heaved a heavy sigh, shrugging as if to say it didn't matter.

"Oh, well. They told me not to even come over here. I should have listened to them." She turned to walk away, but the woman called out to her. Brittany smiled before carefully composing herself, turning around with what she hoped was a questioning expression.

"Who said that?" she asked, and the temper was back in her eyes.

"Oh, the other blacksmiths." She shrugged again, all apologetic charm. Bryan was shy, forgivable. He didn't cause offense. The more unobtrusive, the better. Brittany liked Bryan and she hoped she could get him some armor because he – and she – had been taking some awful beatings in the lists. "They said I shouldn't waste my breath asking you because you can't make armor, only horseshoes."

The woman's nostrils flared with annoyance. "Did they say that because I am a woman?"

Brittany considered which answer would get her some new armor. At last she gave a sympathetic wince and bobbed her head in a small nod.

"Yes."

Without another word, the blacksmith turned and began stoking her fire.

/

Mercury pranced beneath her, muscles rippling in anticipation of the challenge ahead. Sitting astride the eager mount, Sir Bryan Pricion of Brittany rolled his shoulder and tested the flexibility of his brand new custom made armor. The blacksmith – Quinn, she'd learned – was now yet another person who knew the secret, but she seemed trustworthy enough. Brittany had taken an instant liking to the girl and it seemed that Quinn, after the initial irritation, had come to enjoy Brittany's company as well. It helped that she had promised to bring the girl with her as far as London and now the other girl seemed to feel almost indebted to her, even if it meant putting up with Puck and Michael.

And now she knew Bryan wasn't actually from Brittany, but was called Brittany. That was it, she thought as she twisted the leather of her reins. No one else was allowed to know. If too many people knew a secret, the secret wouldn't stay a secret. That much she knew to be true.

The flag dropped and she gave the horse's sides a nudge so that the animal sprung instantly into a canter, then a gallop. Full speed, she urged in her mind. Come on, come on…

The other rider's lance glanced off her new armor and Brittany grinned beneath her visor because her own lance had splintered. She got the point. It was hers. She was winning. Cheerful and proud of herself, she lets her eyes wander the crowd… And she spotted someone there that makes her think, well, maybe there was one more person she'd tell her secret to if she got the chance.

"Lady!" she called up into the stands when she was near enough. Sure enough, there was her black-haired beauty from before, sitting in the stands with a ridiculously bored expression on her face.

She frowned when the knight she'd met once before called out to her, not sure what to make of the animated boy. He was young, Santana thought, not much older than herself, and he was not like other knights at all. Others pass her by and promised to win the tournament for her. He – Sir Bryan Pricion of Brittany – only grinned up at her as if they shared a great secret, waving in a way completely unfitting of a knight and a lady. And yet... It suited him, the knight. For whatever reason, it suited him and Santana found herself secretly charmed as he rode off even though her expression gave nothing away.

"These young country knights look so foolish, the way they prance about."

His voice instantly grated on her nerves, but Santana held her tongue. She knew her father would be angry if she were to ever shrug off Sir William Schuester's advances. And he does advance, the older knight with the hair better suited to a sheep than a man. His eyes were already territorial when he looked at her, as if he already owned her.

"And yet he does well here, the knight you mock. And he seems to enjoy it. What is it you say, Samuel?" Her gaze shifted to the side and she smirked at her servant, a boy her age with a messy mop of blond hair. "It's not the size of the lance, it's the strength of the thrust?" The boy choked and went crimson, denying ever having made such a comment. It has Santana dissolving into genuine laughter, waving him off. Beside her, William frowned with disapproval.

"Yes, well… We'll see how good he does when faced with real knights later in the tournament. Excuse me, Lady. I have business to attend to." And so saying, he left Santana behind with her servant. She frowned after him, dark eyes rolling after a moment.

"He's such an idiot, Sam. Can you believe my father wants me to marry that bastard?" She scoffed, fingers clenching into fists on her lap.

"Nope. But if you don't want to marry him, then don't. Wait for a more interesting knight in shining armor to ride in and swoop you off your feet. And hopefully knock you on your arse." He laughed and dodged her fist, grinning down at her before looking back down into the lists.

The knight called Bryan was charging again, he and his opponent clashing with a loud crunch. The other knight was sent off his horse, falling heel over arse to the dirt below. Sam whooped and lifted a fist in the air while Santana rolled her eyes again.

There was a smile tugging at her lips, though, and quite suddenly she leaned over and murmured, "Sam, I have a job for you."

/

When Brittany came in from her final – and winning – blow, she discovered a man talking to Michael. He seemed awfully familiar, but Brittany couldn't place him right away. She was too busy celebrating her win, voice fast and slightly higher than normal as she murmured excitedly with Quinn and Puck. She didn't think of the man again until Michael cleared his throat, subtly calling her attention back to the pair.

"What's going on?" she asked at last, wondering if he was some official with the faire. Did he know? Were they found out? Blue eyes flickered to Michael, but he was smiling too, way too amused with the situation at hand.

"This is Sam Evans," he said idly, rocking on his heels. "He is Lady Santana Lopez's servant."

Brittany's brow creased, perplexed by the name and what it was supposed to mean for her. She looked from Michael to Sam and back again until at last Michael smirked and added, "The woman from the market." It was all the clarification Brittany needed and suddenly she was grinning, her eyes lighting up like it was Christmas morning.

"Lady!" she cried cheerfully and the boy called Sam laughed, nodding.

"Yes, that's the one. Lady Santana wishes you to join her on a walk later today, Sir Bryan, when you are finished with your events and presentable again." Brittany was already nodding, hands motioning her squires forward to help her remove her armor.

"I'll be there. Please tell her I'll gladly meet her. Where should I meet her? I'll meet her anywhere." Sam only chuckled and said that Santana would be waiting in the church. It figured, Brittany thinks.

Church was the best place to find an angel.