Sorry for the long-ass delay. A lot of personal stuff came up, along with the exams. The upside is this is the longest chapter so far.

Enjoy reading and tell me what you think!

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

"If the Princess wanted some lower-class rutting, she could at least retain some of her self-respect and go for a man."

"All those years living as a slave must have addled her view on things but I'd be happy to re-orientate her."

That had been the last straw.

The words echoed in her mind, even as she gently wiped the bruises on her face. Her hands shook again as white-hot fury burned fiercely through her, threatening to consume her again even as what she last recalled was the sorry sight of the man who had uttered those words in a crumpled and bloody heap at her feet.

She knew she shouldn't have let her temper get the better of her, but she had been doing her best to ignore their jibes by keeping to herself. The digs at her, she could take—she had her fair share of that in Lima—but when they got started on Brittany, their lips curled maliciously whenever the words 'princess' rolled off their tongues, she knew she couldn't take it anymore. It's not like she failed to warn them, she did, but they just jeered and snickered some more.

Next she found herself charging towards the man, and when he was on the ground, she started pummelling him with her fists viciously without giving him any chance to retaliate. He did manage to hit her in the face several times but Santana was in such a fury that she was unstoppable. Nobody tried to pull her off of him until his face was a bloody mess, mostly because they were too stunned or too afraid to react (and she's secretly glad that yes, she still had it).

She had walked away from the fight with her head held high, and her fellow squires were either looking on in admiration or in contempt. She didn't care either way.

The swordsmaster just shook his head ruefully at her. She knew she isn't coming back to train for Kingsguards, nor would she be allowed. Her temper was too volatile.

"You know what? Fuck you! Fuck all of you!" she had yelled, taking off her padded armour and the weights strapped to her forearms and legs and throwing it down in the dirt. Little dirt clouds rose up in a puff and nobody said anything. She wasn't proud of that, she was realizing now, but she sure was proud when she hobbled off the grounds and made her way into the castle to find Brittany.

Only to find her gone.

She firmly shut her eyes, mustering herself, willing calm into her being because she might just go ahead and break something. Even Lord Tubbington was looking warily at her from his perch by the windowsill as if afraid she might suddenly go off.

She tiredly sat down on the bed, her heart clenching at the thought of disappointed blue eyes gazing back to her.

She had failed. An on the first day, no less.

Brittany quickly turned back and followed the carriage on its way to the castle, her mind chanting a steady stream of 'What in the nine hells is he doing here?' although she very rarely swore. She wondered briefly if he is going to take her back, but no, that's not going to happen.

Traders hastened out of her way as she thundered across the narrow side streets of Kingsvale, barely missing running over a naked child and she slowed down a bit, fear gripping her heart. Behind her, Tybalt was following more closely now, ready for anything should she encounter a mishap. Eventually, he drew level with her.

"Are you alright, Your Majesty?"

She nodded, still shaken that she nearly murdered a young boy, and the hand holding the reins shook a little and the dryness on her throat increased. "Uh, just a little thirsty," she answered.

Without hesitation Tybalt handed her his waterskin and she greedily gulped it down.

They continued on their way back to the Palace, reaching it just as she saw Will climbing out of his carriage. He spotted her once more and his gaze snapped to hers and held it. She furrowed her brow, but he just nodded gravely and was ushered in by one of the Kingsguards.

She was tempted to follow him, and she wondered if her father is going to punish him. But she knew Will had done nothing wrong to her—well, not knowingly anyway or yeah, some of it knowingly, she had to concede—and hoped her father won't be too harsh on him.

"Santana what happened?" Brittany gasped. She quickly ran over, tripping over Lord Tubbington who gave a pained meow, to where Santana was seated on the bed, looking glum.

"It's nothing, Britt," she answered evasively, not meeting Brittany's eyes.

"Who did this? Did Will do this?"

"What? Will? No, no. I was... I got into a fight, that's all." Santana looked at her, confused, and her eyes were narrowed at the mention of Brittany's former owner. "Why? Is Will here?"

Brittany nodded morosely but she did not elaborate. "What happened to you?" she asked, reaching out a hand to gingerly touch the cut on her lip.

"I... Suffice to say that I'm no longer eligible for training," she answered sheepishly.

"What?"

"I lost my temper." Brittany did not need to know the real reason. "It was all my fault, Britt."

"What exactly happened?"

"My temper, Britt. That's what happened," she snapped, sharper than she had intended and Brittany immediately looked wounded. "Sorry."

She flinched when Brittany took her hand and realized that she had taken the skin off her knuckles when she destroyed that man's visage. "My God, San."

"That's nothing."

Brittany brushed her lips against the raw skin of her knuckles, and without hesitation, tore off a strip of cloth from the shirt she wore underneath her tunic and lovingly wrapped them around Santana's maimed hand.

"At least you didn't break your hand," she mumbled, patting Santana's hand gently.

Santana couldn't help but smile at this simple statement.

"You're right I didn't."

"I'm sorry for snubbing you earlier," Brittany said sheepishly, reaching into her bag for something which she promptly handed to Santana. "Consider it as a peace offering." It was wrapped in a thin cloth and it felt weirdly soft and cold. Santana nearly dropped it but all the same, she gingerly unwrapped it to uncover a shrivelled brown thing which smelled odd.

"Britt, what's this?"

Brittany squinted at it, looking perplexed herself. "Oh! That's a bull testicle, San."

It dropped to the floor with a wet plop. Lord Tubbington sprung towards it with a meow and sniffed it, shying away instantly. She looked up at Brittany and the latter picked him up.

"Ugh, what was that for?"

Brittany shrugged and flashed her an embarrassed grin. "Sorry. That wasn't supposed to be—uh—" She rummaged into her bag once more and gave Santana a bag of bagels which were still warm. "Here." Lord Tubbington threatened to swipe it off her hands but Santana managed to keep it away from him.

They ate in silence, Santana muttering a shy thanks and she resolved to make it up to the blonde tonight.

However, Brittany clearly had other plans, for no sooner had they finished eating when Lord Tubbington dropped down to the floor with a dull thud, and Brittany's lips were upon hers, kissing her so fiercely and tenderly at the same time. Santana still winced involuntarily when Brittany nipped at her split lip, albeit gently, but when clothes started ending up on the floor, she forgot about her injuries and she wondered why she ever thought about waiting for tonight when right now is just perfectly fine.

"So, Lord Schuester is here?" Santana asked after their midday tryst and both of them were wrapped up in each other. She felt the blonde stiffen a bit in her arms. "What's he doing here?"

"Oh, yeah, I forgot about that," she said looking up to Santana from where she had rested her head against the smaller woman's chest. "And to answer your other question, I had no idea."

"What if he came here to take you back, Britt? What if he still refuses to believe—"

"Don't be silly, San. He can't do that anymore. We're safe here. I'm safe here. There are Kingsguards around, and Quinn, and most of all, you." She punctuated her sentence with a light squeeze on Santana's breast that made her gasp.

But Santana sobered herself up enough. She was tired and sore from both the fight and the mind-blowing sex and she wasn't up for another round so soon.

Santana sighed. "Was he... did he ever do anything bad to you?" she finally asked. "You said you were privileged than most of his slaves—"

"What? Did you mean like—" Brittany didn't finish the question but she shuddered. Santana nodded. "No, of course not. Did I ever give off that vibe? He was quite nice to us, although, I admit, I'm a little uncomfortable around him. Well, most of us were—and by us, I mean, Rory, Harmony and Finn. Well, with the exception of Finn of course. He liked hero-worshipped Will."

"Why does he make you uncomfortable?"

"He likes to see us bathe, for instance," Brittany said, blushing to the tips of her ears as her lip curled in disgust. "Slaves bathe in a communal cleaning trough you see, and once I spotted him spying on me and Harmony, and..."

"But he didn't do anything though, did he?" Santana asked, her fists starting to shake as if they sensed they were about to be used again.

"God, no. Rory told me he caught him spying on him too." Brittany snuggled closer to her, drawing patterns distractedly on her stomach.

"He's one sick fucker," Santana said through clenched teeth. "What else?"

"Nothing else," Brittany said, her hand sliding down and cupping her so suddenly. "Could we stop talking about him?"

She started moving her hand and Santana had no choice but to agree.

Lord Schuester's visit, prompted by summons of the King in order to have him explain himself whether he was involved in any way with Brittany's kidnapping fifteen years ago. Though Quinn knew that whether he was involved nobody in their right mind would confess to such a crime, and if he denied, there was no way they could prove it. But she couldn't deny the truth in his words when he vehemently denied all the King's accusations and that he had unknowingly purchased the Princess from the slave traders in the North.

It was then that he dropped some information valuable to them. He said some of the northern Barons were refusing to recognize her authority as Heiress Apparent. Quinn was shocked, and he looked meaningfully at her. There it was—the threat of a civil war. And with the problem at the Haunt, the future certainly didn't seem good.

"We can't fight a war on two fronts, should it come to that," her father said.

Lord Schuester reassured him of his loyalty to the Crown and that his northern soldiers were at his disposal.

Quinn was too stunned to say anything. She could not pay attention even when her father voiced his scepticism, saying that he'd wait to hear about it from the Eyes first—the King's spies—but Schuester told him that those were still under development. As of now, the King had no legitimate Heir in their eyes, and should anything happen to him; war would inevitably break out within the Realm.

Her status as a royal bastard was an open secret across the kingdom (well at least, on the aristocracy, but nobody wanted to acknowledge that fact just yet, well, until now), and she's genuinely afraid.

Couldn't they see how capable she is even if she was illegitimate? All her life she had devoted it to learning the ropes so that she would be a successful monarch when the day came that she ascended the throne of Kingsvale. Would they rather go for someone who knew nothing about politics and had spent all their life in a provincial estate, dancing for a provincial Lord—simply because they were the daughter of the King's consort?

She felt a flash of resentment towards her sister, but it was gone in an instant when she realized that she can't have the throne either way unless she denounces her love for that Fideli woman. That Fideli woman who was proving to be a thorn on Quinn's side. Seriously, the hardest decisions she ever had to make were the ones regarding that woman.

She still felt guilty about her orders to the Kingsguards—that was a hard decision too—but with the new problems cropping up every now and then and with alarming frequency (coincidentally, they started pouring in somewhat when her sister had returned, and she wondered if her sister was jinxed, or maybe that woman, but quickly snuffed out the thought and its implications), the guilt had been dulled somewhat. She had now filed it away and classified as part of her duties as future Queen.

A status that is being challenged now.

"I know that, Pa," Quinn sighed.

"It seems like I have to name Brittany as Heiress Apparent," her father stated, his grey eyes grave and apologetic.

Quinn felt cold all over. This was her worst fear, and coming from her father's lips, it felt like he had driven his finely-crafted knife deep into her chest and twisted and twisted and twisted. It felt like betrayal.

"No," was all she could say, stumbling back a step in her disbelief.

"But she was born for this, Quinn. You knew that—"

Quinn gritted her teeth. It was taking all her willpower not to break down in front of her father. After all these years, after devoting all her whole life trying to be the daughter he wanted and not thought of as merely an accident, she couldn't believe her father didn't trust her. She had kept up with everything—hell, she was even better than her tutors when it came to political debates which they liked to engaged in every now and then, and she'd like to think she was a good strategist too—and now, now, the reins were being handed off to Brittany. Brittany who clearly had no interest, who knew nothing about the Kingdom—

She ran out of her father's bedchamber in tears.

She continued running the Kingdom in her father's stead, and she knew she was doing a damn fine job of it: making decisive choices, doling out harsh punishments whenever the situation called for it, and trying not to think that this would be over soon, and she might be forced to leave the castle in shame for being a royal bastard.

Brittany came up to her later after Schuester's visit, and she tried very hard to keep the bitterness and anger off her voice because Brittany had nothing to do with it. She was just lucky to be legitimately highborn.

"Is this about your precious Fideli?" she snapped.

Brittany nodded; looking like Quinn kicked Lord Tubbington judging by the hurt expression on her face.

Santana Lopez.

Quinn clenched her jaw. Ever since that woman came into the Palace and had seamlessly integrated herself into all their lives (obviously because she was the main reason Brittany was even here), everything had gone to hell for Quinn. She knows it's not right but it felt so damn good to pin the blame onto someone other than herself—or her dearly-departed mother who was a nun but then made the mistake of spreading her legs for a King.

But then when Brittany told her that Santana got into a fight with one of the squires because she was merely defending her honour, Quinn softened a bit. But a small part of her wanted to chide her sister for bringing this upon herself by falling in-love with—

She didn't finish the thought as an idea occurred to her.

She called Sam over to deal with the problem, personally assigning him to train Santana Lopez for the Kingsguards and to punish the erring squire as well for besmirching her sister's name.

Because well, if Santana Lopez could be blamed for this fuckery, then she may as well use her to achieve what she wanted as well.

Granted she had to shut down a part of herself, but Brittany wouldn't have cared either way, so nobody loses.

She was shocked to find her father gazing out of the window, his knuckles white around the knob of his cane upon which he was leaning heavily.

"Papa, what are you doing? You should be in bed!" she gasped, quickly striding towards him in order to help him back to the sheets. An admonishment for his nurse is at the tip of her tongue until she remembered the reason why she came here.

"I'm perfectly fine, Lucille," he growled, and Quinn's hazel eyes snapped to whatever he was staring at out of the window. "I've been steadily growing stronger now."

He was looking at Brittany and her pet, who were walking across the courtyard hand in hand, his brow furrowed. It looked like they were on their way to the range as Lopez was carrying her bow as well.

Quinn felt a surge of something similar to guilt at what she was about to say, but he had a right to know. He was their father after all.

She was stalling, wracking her brain to phrase it properly without seeming like she was scheming to invalidate Brittany's claim to the throne as well but her father beat her to the punch.

"Something between them?" he asked, his steely grey eyes fixed on her, and his beard twitched in disgust as he turned back to the window where, as if on cue, Brittany kissed Santana's cheek. Nobody seemed to mind them, doubtless because Lopez had made an example of the squire.

Quinn just nodded. At least the burden of telling him was taken off her shoulders.

"Are they in-love?"

"I—," she hesitated. With the way Brittany had gone after her—that was confirmation enough. However, she settled for, "I can't possibly know that, Papa."

He nodded several times. "Well, a Queen can't have a spouse of the same gender. We could easily change that. It's not like they were married anyway, and a Princess's duty is to her people first. Emotions and love are secondary. After her Presentation, lots of noblemen would be clamouring for her hand in marriage. The King of Fidelian might even want her..." he trailed off, and for the second time that day, Quinn felt numbing cold wash over her being.

She knew now that her fate was sealed.

"I knew it; I shouldn't have assigned you to train with them. Should've looked after you myself," Sam mumbled, sighing as he surveyed the cuts and bruises on her face and her bandaged hands.

Santana just shrugged. She was tired of having to explain why she went off after their bigoted asses.

And she didn't need to. Sam had seen the damage on the man's face, and he'd be fortunate to find somebody willing to marry him despite his disfigurement.

"Saddle my horse. And yours too. We're going on a ride," he said. "We're to check on my farm, and I have to start training you, too."

She picked up the heavy saddles and started on her task, trying not to think of woman whom she had left alone in bed once more. With her tousled golden hair and garbled sleep-talking, Santana found it quite hard to leave. She pressed a kiss to Brittany's forehead to soothe her and Santana wanted nothing more than to go back in there and snuggle up to her.

But it was hard when the animal balked at her foreign handler, and Santana had to recall how Brittany would calm the panicked animal. Eventually she managed to succeed with her task, and Sam chuckled.

"My other squire got kicked in the gut the first time I asked him to saddle my horse. It's nice to see that she had been quite taken with you."

Santana cringed, and then indignation rose within her. "And you didn't think it would be alright to warn me... sir?" she said, grudgingly adding the honorific 'sir' at the end because it was part of the protocol.

"I knew you'd do fine, Lopez," he said, grinning and she was somewhat tempted to hit him so that his lips would be even bigger than they already are.

She rolled her eyes then set about saddling her own horse.

"A fortnight from now would be Her Highness Princess Brittany's Presentation—"

"I am aware... sir," she said, grateful that at least Barbra was calm this time. She had no intention of adding any more to her current list of extensive injuries. Her side had started hurting again after the exertions of yesterday.

"That's not all. There would be a tourney. Knights from all over the Realm would come and show off their prowess at the Halloran Fields," he continued, the excitement evident in his voice. "I am getting back at Sylvester for the stunt she pulled on me the last time."

Santana's jaw dropped. That woman was like...ancient. She had no idea she still competed in tourneys.

"I know. That woman seriously is not of this world." He led his steed out of the stables and Santana followed him. "C'mon let's start your training immediately as you'll be my second."

Santana's jaw dropped once more. "What? But I can't... I'm more of a... of a hunter. You know, with a bow and an arrow. I've never swung a sword in my life, save for that wooden stick yesterday. If it can be called such."

"You'll learn," Sam said.

"Where's your other squire?"

"Well, you beat him up pretty badly yesterday."

Captain Samuel Evans is a relentless master, was all Santana could think about as she tried not to drop dead from her ten-mile run around the knight's farm in Fentonwood. It may or may not be the farm from which Brittany had stolen the bucket of milk which she had fed Lord Tubbington when they were on the way to Kingsvale.

She had vomited thrice already, and she wasn't about to make a fool of herself the fourth time especially now that Brittany, along with Sam, trailed behind her on horseback. She had weights strapped to her legs and forearms like on the first day of her botched training, coupled with a heavy claymore slung across her back and pouches hanging on her belt filled with many small boulders.

"Go, San!" Brittany said, and the sound of her voice infused some much-needed strength to her already failing legs. She had dropped by for a visit after she had begged off of her lessons for a day in order to spy on Santana's training. She was totally taking lessons now, as her father had mentioned that she will be crowned Heiress Apparent on her Presentation, in order to settle the rumours about a lack of a worthy Heiress since Quinn was not a legitimate daughter.

Brittany had adamantly refused because she knew what it might mean for them and though Santana was secretly glad that she had no interest in ruling the Realm, she couldn't help but feel guilty for her selfish desires.

"You'll learn, Brittany. You're my daughter, you were born for this," the King had said firmly.

"But what about Quinn?"

"I already told you, she can't rule. There was already unrest in the north, and you're the legitimate heir. We can't risk a war right now, now that the situation in the Haunt is becoming alarming. Why would you turn your back on your destiny?"

Brittany started crying. "This isn't my destiny, Papa. Santana is."

Santana remembered how a vein on the King's temple had twitched but he was silent afterward. He beckoned Brittany closer and whispered something in her ear, and her face immediately cleared. She shot a reassuring smile at Santana and that was that.

Santana couldn't help but feel that their relationship would have to end some time in the future, when Brittany would marry somebody highborn like herself and produce a healthy, legitimate Heir or Heiress for the throne. She was thinking of just disappearing and going back to Lima—doubtless, she was going to break both their hearts but it would be easier for them in the long run.

But Brittany was happy right now—well not exactly, since she kept on begging Sam to stop when Santana started limping—and Santana didn't want to destroy that. Her father must have said something to satisfy her, but for how long, Santana did not know.

Sometimes she wanted to curse at herself for setting herself up for the inevitable heartbreak by falling for the blonde, since Brittany didn't belong with her obviously. But a disarming smile from the woman would lighten everything up, and it would serve to strengthen Santana's love for her.

"You can do it!" she cheered, urging her on.

Santana glanced behind her and Brittany looked like an angel with the way the sun behind her framed her fair hair nicely—sort of like a halo.

Quinn looked around at the preparations for her sister's Presentation the next day. The atmosphere was festive, and the Palace was bedecked with the colours of House Pierce—red, black and white—so different from what she was feeling right now. Well, maybe black would be the appropriate colour for her tomorrow since tomorrow would be the death of everything she had worked for all her life.

"Lucille," she heard her father's voice and jumped a little. Usually the tap-tap of his cane would signal his approach, but she was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she failed to notice it. "Consider this as your final duty in your brief stint as Princess Regent."

She closed her eyes and willed herself not to cry. After all these years, he never accepted her. That was clear now.

"We cannot risk a war of succession. I don't want anything to happen to either of you should the time comes when I leave this world. We are doing this to keep the peace. You don't want bloodshed right?"

She nodded.

"For what it's worth, I knew you'd have made a great Queen."

The metal was hot from repeatedly running it across the whetstone. Santana blew on it and touched the edge, wincing at both the heat and the sudden, razor-thin cut it had induced on her finger. A droplet of blood slid across the blade and she gently wiped it with a rag. Satisfied that she could see her reflection on the blade, she sheathed it and laid it out to where the rest of Sam's weapons rested.

As a squire, it was her duty to clean her knight's armour and shield and ensure that his blades were whetted, especially for the tourney tomorrow.

They were camped out at the Halloran Fields where the tourney is to take place tomorrow, where other knights from across the Realm were lodged—tents erected in an orderly fashion in the various colours of their Lords.

Santana's tent, which she shared with Sam and because of that it was partitioned—her area significantly smaller than Sam's of course—was a vibrant red and black. The sun was setting and the sun's dying rays filtered through the fabric, and everything was awash in vermillion, making her eyes hurt.

Santana stepped out of the tent and was quickly engulfed by a shock of blonde hair blowing in the breeze and the scent of honeysuckle.

"Britt, what are you doing here?"

"Aren't you happy to see me?" she pouted.

"I am. But... it's your Presentation tomorrow? You can't just disappear! And what if something happens to you?"

"I'm surrounded by knights of course nothing would happen to me, silly. And there's you, San, my hot squire girlfriend. Of course, you won't let anything happen to me."

"Does Quinn know you're here?"

Brittany's face fell at the mention of her sister, but she nodded anyway. "She's really sad, San."

Santana wanted to say that she was sad too, and that her insecurities about being lowborn were catching up to her once more. Doubtless, Brittany was sure to catch the eye of a nobleman or two or possibly all of them in her Presentation tomorrow. And many of them would pursue her relentlessly until she caved from the pressure brought about by her father and her status in the Realm—

"I told Papa I don't want this. But then I had an idea. What if, I'll be Queen, but then I'll be like her puppet—Quinn's puppet that is, because I really have no idea what to do and my lessons get all mixed up in my head. They say you can't teach an old dog new tricks, and yes I'm quite an old person, I'm twenty summers old, so perhaps it's the same thing?"

"You're not old Britt," Santana chided her gently.

"So what do you think of my idea? Being Quinn's puppet? That way, we rule together and she won't be sad anymore."

Santana narrowed her eyes. "I think that would be alright. Just tell your father."

Brittany nodded enthusiastically then leaned closer.

"Meanwhile, I have another idea. Seeing you in armour is hot, by the way," she husked.

"It's not an armour, Britts, it's called chainmail."

"Whatever, I think it would be hotter if that's on the floor."

She pushed Santana inside the tent and Santana decided to forget about the now-more-than-ever uncertain future. Even for just one night.

TBC.

Rest assured that Brittana will be endgame in this story. Just trust me, okay?

P.S. A little confession: when I started this story I absolutely had no idea how it's going to go. I just had this image of Santana, in a forest and then Brittany running for her life, and so I ran with that image. I was just experimenting on whether it will get a good enough response that would inspire me to continue, and yay, it did. Yea I did base it off on an old fic I've written, which I haven't finished 'til now, but now this story has grown on its own and has become so vastly different save for the names of the places in it, and I was surprised that some pieces fell into place even though I hadn't intended them to. No worries, I have the ending and the rest of the story pretty much planned out now.

Tl;dr : Your reviews inspired me to write this even though I had no idea where I was going in the beginning. So, keep 'em coming!

P.S.S. Check out my other story, Glee Club on Cracked (if you haven't already)!

Thanks for reading.