I DON'T OWN JANE AND THE DRAGON OR ITS CHARACTERS

A/n: This is going to be a multi chapter fic, which will be a challenge. Another challenge is this possibly, most likely a Jane/Smithy fic. I really do believe there aren't enough Smithy fics, and I'm hoping he won't be too Ooc. Let me know if he is and I'll be happy to make the possible corrections. I started writing this because I read the Love of a Lady Knight by Wild-Imagination95, and fell in love with the story and the slow burn romance. Sadly that fic is uncompleted, but I recommend it, and I hope it's finished someday.

Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy.

As of Nov 26, 2020 I revised this chapter for flow, spelling, and clarity.

As of Feb 17, 2021 I revised this chapter again for flow, spelling, and grammar. I also changed a few sentences cause I was never satisfied with them.

Chapter 1: Foolish

He dreamed of her again.

When he woke, he was not so much ashamed, but embarrassed; it was natural to dream of daily activity or many fantastical things, but of his friends, her more specifically, he should not. However, at least he was happy, if not for a little while as he dressed and thought to himself about the foolishness a dream could be. His heavy leather apron reminded him of his current reality; the bite of the morning air prickled his exposed skin, but he knew that refreshment would not last when he was before his forge again. He was not as hungry as he had been on other days, so he took a few apples to eat later.

Dawn was painted in the sky before long; the sight of it hopeful and bright. The rising sun meant little to those in his position who woke early and worked from morning to night. Yet, time was moving and there was so much to be done; time would not allow him to enjoy such comforts as the dawn. In a castle, even in one with as few inhabitants as Kippernia Castle, there were keys to be made, buckles to be broken, items to be hung, and so on. Already, early in the day, he had several horses that needed to be brushed and inspected; this part he found to be an added privilege.

Oh, and how could he forget, Sir Ivon wanted his latest weapon to be sharpened, just so that it may go back to the weaponry to collect dust. He sighed, and soon enough he laid out the necessary pieces needed for the repair he planned to do later. From the shade of his forge, he had a good view of the knights as they trained their squires, and he watched from time to time. Oh yes, he watched her from time to time, and that was the problem. In the world in which he lived, there would likely be problems with his current thinking, but he could not bring himself not to do so.

Admiration in her discipline and fluid movements drew him. Concentration in her brow, arms raised in anticipation to strike, she was preparing herself; her face was not so pretty when she finally struck the dummy in violence, but something was comforting in the familiarity, as well as intriguing in the change; no other lady he knew could pull off such a look. The dummy stood no chance against her demonstration, but neither did he. Years of practice made it almost a game, the happiness and joy gleamed in her eyes, as well as excitement and strength illuminated her form. Steps, her movement like a dance, it was too glorious to ignore; passion made her unique, a dream gave her encouragement to continually work, to continue learning, and to be the best she could be.

Realization of how his feet were rooted as he watched made him wonder if he was the only one affected. A furtive glance at the other knight who was there to instruct and at the others concentrating on the lesson told him it was. What had he been thinking? He must have been overworked, why else would his mind begin to dwell?

It would not do, what does a blacksmith need of a Knight? To be in their service no doubt, to fire the metal, a servant no less. To avoid, it would be difficult, but not impossible. So avoid it he must, and he hurried into the stables to keep busy. Her voice carried; authority with humility he would say and discipline with patience.

Every year, farmers or fighters were sent down to the castle to see if there was any use for them, for their families wished to improve their state of living or to keep their sons out of trouble. Jane loved a challenge, a test, or practice of her skills. If they proved themselves worthy, then they received the honor of being taught by the few knights in the king's service. If not, then they were sent away, with letters of recommendation to assist them in their future endeavors.

Pig observed her owner; the listless look as he polished a few swords, the year's worth of sigh, and the trouble which lined his brows. Humans, so dishonest; if only they were animals, it would be as easy as scented glands and food offerings. In her mouth, she carried a shiny buckle which earned her a belly rub and fresh turnip from the garden. "Where did you find this girl?" The blacksmith wondered. "Did I lose one of my buckles?"

Her snout sniffed and pointed in an unwanted direction; leading Smithy again towards his forge. Smithy stopped before leaving the stables, knowing there was much work to be done still. He must ignore her, and work hard to forget impetuous feelings; to repress this weakness. With a quick decision, he made his way towards the weaponry room and gave it its due attention, which took a better part of the morning. The quality of metal found varied depending on the age and style of weapon or sword; in the far corner a dull practice sword caught his eye and he thought it was very much like the one he had owned back home; one he had not used in a long time.

The remainders of his past could be felt if he removed his gloves; calluses, mixed with scattered burn scars from his current occupation. Father taught him well; of the dangers of thieves and robbers, to make his emotions invisible, to fool others into believing he was less than what he was, and to fight with little mess. If he took up a sword again as he had many years ago, perhaps his thoughts would not be in vain. If he wanted to, he could easily equal Gunther in skill, but match Sir Theodore in the discipline. However, he was unlike his father, and he preferred it that way.

Jane rubbed salve on her tired hands; grateful its effect was immediate and cooling. She was happy to have a little time to herself before she would be required to change into more formal attire. When one protected the Queen, style, and appearance were above everything else. Even if Jane was allowed to wear her armor, it was only with the modified gown she was required to wear. Over the years, she had learned the benefits and downsides to being a female and a Knight, but she was both, and more often than not she took pride in it.

At one time, she would have refused to be seen in such fabrics; afraid of Gunther's teasing. The first time she had worn them, Gunther had seen, and had not teased her, but stood silent. It was peculiar, she had to admit, but she was relieved. Jester thought her appearance wonderful; showering her with various compliments, but those made her feel cautious; the attention received was unwanted, but the words of another comforted her. When Smithy had first seen her, she had needed him to ready her horse so that she could follow the Queen and her ladies. At that time, he expressed his simple congratulation, and he complimented how the armor suited her smile.

The recollection of those memories gladdened her heart as she dressed in those garments she sometimes hated, but it tested her as well. Gunther would not be pleased to see her talking to another, nor would Jester be happy if she chose her fellow Knight. Another trouble with being a female is that you are sent to humble submission. Why did she have to choose? Could she not enjoy her life a little longer before her mother badgered her of duties and all that?

One day, Jane hoped, there would be someone who understood her heart as well as she did; to allow her to live and breath, and be her compliment and companion in life. However, she would choose when she was ready, and she did not care to yet. Fixing her hair, and rubbing scented oils on her skin, she sighed and left her tower, determined to do her best. Down the stairs, she crossed the courtyard and smiled at Smithy who was washing her horse. He looked troubled for a moment; his cloudy blue eyes looked away, but then they shone with a fire she could not explain, and he smiled at her with a brightness he hardly showed.

Jane quickened her pace then; her foolish heart becoming a tangled mess. She knew better than to appear too eager, or to display more emotion than she intended to show; knew better than to believe friendship could be confused with anything else and had to remember how kindness showed was simply his way. Off to the throne room, she went, away from such distractions. His eyes followed her figure until she disappeared around a corner. Smithy hoped she could not see his feelings.