A/N: Long time no see! Sorry about the delay, but it's been an insane year and I think we're all dealing with a lot right now. However, I hope this epic chapter makes up for it and brings you some wonderful Star vs the Forces of Evil based entertainment! Also, The next couple chapters are going to have some excellent music so I hope you're ready for some tunes!

Benatar, Pat. "Love is a Battlefield." Live from Earth. Written byHolly Knight and Mike Chapman, MCA Whitney Studios, 1983.

The Once and Future Queen

Chapter 11.

"Fortune favors the bold."


Stepping lightly along the cobbled street formerly known as the "Royal Mile," Rasticore scowled as his eye darted left and right. All around him, self-satisfied faces peered out of windows and doorways of newly rebuilt townhouses and inns. Even the odd snicker here and there made the frill that lay over the back of his neck twitch with annoyance. 'So the sharks are already circling…' he thought as he shot them a scorching look that made most of the monsters scurry back into their homes and pull the shutters.

He couldn't blame them of course… Advancement in Toffee's army had always been based on achievement. Succeed, and even the lowliest of scum could rise to the dizzying heights of Toffee's inner circle. Fail, and well…that was something few had ever survived to tell the tale of. He had personally witnessed more than one haughty and proud general cast into obscurity and irrelevance as punishment for failing to deliver on promises made, and those were ones he considered lucky. And now it seemed, as he walked through the rebuilt village on the outskirts of what was once Butterfly Castle, that now it was his turn to face Toffee's disappointment.

He had seized and returned with the artifact; however, that had been mostly the work of the Zryn and their superb ability to infiltrate. And while their part of the operation had been a complete success, it had only served to highlight his own screw-up even further. His failure was far more personal, as he had sworn to Toffee that he would return to Mewni with both the wand and Princess Star's head if only to prove to his exalted master that he alone could succeed where the bumbling Ludo Avarious had repeatedly failed. And now, as he trudged towards an unknown judgment, he felt an unfamiliar ripple of fear run up the length of his spine.

Passing over the since dried up moat, he straightened up and fixed his face into a mask of arrogant indifference. The guards flanking the entrance and black iron portcullis threw him a cursory inspection before giving each other a small, knowing sneer. Not small enough it seemed, as Rasticore immediately seized the offending guard by the throat and leveled a charged, glowing arm at the other before the hapless guard had gotten his arm halfway to his sword. Snarling, he squeezed the neck of the hapless guard in his hand hard enough to ensure he couldn't breathe before fixing both of them with a cold stare. "I may be walking right into the lion's den, but I hardly think the deaths of two pathetic worms such as yourself will sway Toffee's decision one way or the other…"

Feebly, the guard he was slowly asphyxiating batted at his arm, his eyes beginning to roll into the back of his head. Grunting in disgust, Rasticore released the now blue-faced monster to fall to the ground, gasping and writhing as he struggled to fill his lungs once more. "A-Apologies, Lord Rasticore…" whimpered the other guard, cringing under the harsh purple light of the energy bolt that was straining to let loose a torrent of death. "Spare us, please…" wheezed the other as he held his bruised and purpling neck.

It would have been easy to release his hold on the magic building in his arm, to blast a smoking hole in the chest of the fool who had insulted him. The other guard would barely have time to feel the fatal weight of his transgression before Raticore turned his terrible wrath on him and ended his miserable existence as well. 'But no… I have places to be, and these fools' deaths would only complicate my already precarious situation,' he decided, before merely letting out a small, barely audible growl and swiftly walking through the gatehouse.

Passing into the castle proper, he couldn't help but be impressed as he took in the changes wrought under his Toffee's reign. Gone were the pastel blues and pinks of the Butterfly royal family. Instead, the posh interiors had been redecorated in a far more serene and imposing mood. Black marble shined to a mirror finish stretched out before him as he walked the now familiar path to the throne room, and on the walls hung the dark and foreboding banners of each clan of Toffee's monster army. The effect was in Rasticore's opinion, a perfect blend of stylish and intimidating.

At last, he passed through the carved onyx doors that led into the throne room, and immediately he felt his heart quicken. It felt like only a month ago that he had led the group of monsters that had kicked in the doors to this vile monument of mewman oppression. The cowardly mewmans had fled their capital before his arrival and Rasticore had found the castle deserted. 'Still though,' he mused, feeling a chill run down his spine, 'how many generations of Butterfly Queens had made decrees that led to the death of countless fellow monsters in this very room…'

Dropping to one knee, Rasticore bowed his head and kept his gaze determinedly fixed on the base of the stairs to the raised dais where a singular throne of sleek black leather sat. There he waited, his ears open for the tell-tell "click" of polished dress shoes on stone that would herald his master's arrival. Seconds seemed to drag into minutes as a faint clatter and the low buzz of hushed whispers high above in the rafters made his muscles tense reflexively in anxiety. 'The Zryn are never far from their master, it seems…' he noted, knowing that any aggressive move would be met with lethal force from the invisible assassins lurking above.

Finally, heard it; the tell-tale sound of someone wearing leather heeled shoes approaching from his right and he mentally scolded himself as he forced his already rigid posture into one of perfect respect and subservience. His lord, judge, and possible executioner had arrived, and whatever punishment he faced, he would do so gladly.

"Punctual as ever, Rasticore" came the cool, even voice of Toffee, his words dripping with his usual brevity.

Rasticore chanced a quick glance with his eyes, careful not to move his head in the hopes of catching even a glimpse. Unfortunately, Toffee was standing too close to see anything in the highly polished floor, and from his low vantage point, he could only see dark, expertly tailored dress pants above a pair of highly polished shoes. "M-My lord," he spoke, mentally cursing himself for letting the anxiety he felt affect his voice. "I have come as you requested and humbly prostrate myself before your judgment. I know there is no excuse for my failure to kill the Princess and secure the W-"

"Failure?" Toffee's voice had a tinge of amusement and Rasticore felt a hand grasp his shoulder. "Rasticore," he chuckled softly, "you are only here because you have succeeded."

Rasticore froze as confusion and panic ran in equal measure through him, his mind racing as he continued to kneel. 'Succeed? But how?' he thought in a half panic. Was this a test? A cruel trick? "But My Lord…" he began again just as the feet in front of him turned to ascend the short steps to the throne, "the Princess…and the Wand…"

"You think you failed because you did not kill Princess Star and return the wand?" Another chuckle as the sound of rustling fabric and softly sighing leather reached Rasticore's ears. "Those were your words not mine, if I remember correctly. I merely instructed you to take command of that fool Ludo's forces on Earth and retrieve the artifact… A task in which you have succeeded to my satisfaction. No, it was Ludo's mission to assassinate the Princess and retrieve the wand. A task for which he is particularly…unsuited for."

Relief flooded through Rasticore's body as he let himself begin to breathe once more. He had not failed after all. In fact, he had pleased his master. "Shall I return to Earth to punish Ludo for his failure?" he added, trying and failing to keep a hint of hopefulness out of his voice.

"No, I think having Ludo and his incompetent army around to keep the Butterfly's distracted is punishment enough. I never intended for him to succeed… It would have been astounding if that puffed up little megalomaniac had achieved anything. I am curious, however…"

"What is it, My Lord?" asked Rasticore, finally raising his head. In front of him and seated on his throne, was Toffee. He was half-concealed in shadow, with only his lower half clearly visible in the dim light of the throne room. The rest was swallowed up in darkness and he was only able to make out two things. The first was his vivid yellow eyes, gleaming like malevolent topaz against the otherwise inky blackness, and the other; a scaled hand, missing its middle finger, which gripped the armrest lightly.

"I've heard from several sources that the Princess has a protector. He's reportedly quite skilled in both armed and unarmed combat. I've even heard a rumor that he is the current wielder of Silverlight.Yet another thing Ludo failed to report, the fool… But I would like to hear your measure of him."

Rasticore nearly choked on his own surprise as his inner exultations were quenched as effectively as if he'd had a wet blanket tossed over him. Should he confirm the entire truth? How much did Toffee know from rumor and the hearsay of lesser soldiers under his command? To withhold anything from his master was dangerous, but then again… 'Toffee would be furious if he knew that a mere human boy had bested Ludo and successfully protected the Princess from my wrath. No,' he decided, there was no need to include that rather minor detail as he answered. "You have heard correctly, Sire. His name is Marco, and he is truly the mewman's greatest warrior. He has defeated many of your lesser soldiers, but I would have killed him during the operation had we not completed our objective so quickly."

"Indeed, I imagine you would," answered Toffee, this time with no hint of mirth in his voice. "You have never failed to remove an obstacle. A fact that has earned you your place as my right hand and also the enmity of many of your peers. I wonder though…where he could have been hiding all this time?"

There was a long, unnerving silence as Rasticore's mind raced. Was this all an elaborate trap? Did he know that the Princess's protector was a mere teenage human? Was this Toffee's way of giving him one last chance to come clean about the true details? The possibilities swirled in his mind, each one more frightening than the next. To come clean now might be the best move, but then again… 'He will be upset that I tried to conceal something from him in the first place…' he thought, and in that instant, his mind was made up. "Perhaps he only recently came of age," he added before dropping his voice to a conspiratorial tone. "Or perhaps…he is something Moon has been preparing. The mewmans may be cowardly…but they are clever and resourceful adversaries."

He waited with bated breath as Toffee seemed to consider his words with a quiet, "Hrmm." So far, giving his master something else to consider seemed to have thrown him off whatever scent he was pursuing. Finally, he spoke up, his eyes flashing in the darkness. "Kill the boy if he challenges you, but otherwise keep an eye on him. I would very much like to know more of where this…protector came from. If Moon is developing something akin to the Solarian Warrior project, I will have to accelerate our plans." Silence reigned as Toffee paused once more to swirl the murky contents of a glass that he'd plucked from a low table next to his throne. Sipping from its contents, he fixed his malevolent stare on his kneeling servant before smiling, his razor-sharp teeth gleaming in the dim light. "You have done well in completing phase one, Rasticore"

"My Lord?" He was confused. He had not been informed that there was anything more to the plan than securing the artifact from the vault at Butterfly Castle. Regardless, he watched as Toffee leaned forward slowly into the light, wincing slightly as he caught sight of his face. Septarians were gifted in the art of regeneration, able to regrow limbs or even their entire body from something as small as a finger. And Toffee was known to be one of the most naturally adept with this gift, able to regrow a lost arm in mere seconds. But what shocked Rasticore, indeed what shook him to his very core, was the long, ugly scar that traveled the length of his snout and under his right eye. By all rights, it should have healed up almost instantly and the thought of a weapon outside of dark magic that could leave such an unhealable wound was disturbing, to say the least.

"You say the mewmans are clever and resourceful. The Butterfly family is doubly so, for they control the only force in the multiverse that can stop us… Magic. Securing the artifact is but the first step in my plan to secure a future free from their meddling for all time."

Rasticore's heart was pounding in anticipation now. This was the reason he had joined Toffee's army so many years ago when no one else had the willpower to stand against the mewmans. "What would you have me do?" he half-whispered, afraid that speaking any louder might risk him losing the honor of carrying out his lord's will.

"Return to Earth. Test your strength once more against the Mewmans and this, 'Marco…' Do not return until you have secured the wand."

"And the Princess?"

Toffee, for all the brutality he had showcased during the war, took a moment to consider the best move forward, before answering with a shrug. "I would prefer she live to see her family and people's destruction, but should she be killed attempting to keep you from the wand… So be it."

Rasticore let himself indulge in a predatory smile as he bowed his head once more. "I will see your will be done, Lord Toffee." Despite his instructions, his pride would never allow Princess Star to live after her earlier defiance. 'Besides…' he thought, rising and turning to leave with Toffee's dismissive wave, 'it would torture that haughty bitch, Moon to have to live with the death of her only daughter before Toffee came for them all.'

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

*Thubalup Thubalup Thubalup* The thunder of hooves shattered the quiet, still morning in Echo Creek Park as small wildlife bolted off the shaded forest path. Tearing into sight around a bend, a brown and white horse appeared at full gallop while its two riders hunched low over its lithe form. "Faster, Grend, Faster!" shouted Penelope as she urged her mount to new heights of speed while a frightened Marco clung tightly to her waist, doing his best not to be flung off in the turn.

"Don't you think you should slow down a bit!" he yelled over the rush of wind and pounding hooves.

"What's the point of a riding date if we go slow?" she answered, turning back and giving her worried-looking boyfriend a coy smile.

"That IS the point!" he shouted back, just as an errant tree limb raked his side, its branches tearing several small holes in his hoodie.

Her only response was just to laugh and urge their mount forward with a snap of the reins. Grend answered with a powerful snort before pouring on speed and continued their breakneck pace; Marco squeezing her tight around the middle for several more minutes until panting and laughing, Penelope slowed Grend to a slow trot. Marco blew out a breath and straightened up, happy that she had guided them safely through what he felt was one of the most frightening five minutes of his life.

"Okay, still alive…" he managed to finally say as they passed under a vault of trees, their green canopy illuminated like stained glass high above. "You weren't kidding about being a good rider, Penny. Why don't you enter one of those warnicorn races?" he asked as he shifted to get more comfortable on Grend's back.

"Please, Marco," giggled Penelope, taking a hand off the reins to place it over his as it rested on her hip. "I actually dialed it back a little since you didn't have a saddle and all. And while I wouldn't have let you fall off, Grend can actualllyyy run quite a bit faster than that, you know," she added as she wound her fingers in between his.

The gesture was a small one, but it made Marco smile. So far, their "riding date" had been going well despite the terrifying gallop deeper into the woods. They'd already shared an early lunch together in a sunkissed meadow, Marco listening intently as she told him everything he should be expecting that afternoon with the opening of the tournament. It had been actually very nice to have some uninterrupted time with his girlfriend and he was pleased that Star's name hadn't come up once in the two hours they'd spent together so far.

He was doing his best to try and mend the rift that seemed to be growing inexorably between them, and to keep his strong feelings for Star in check. He needed to get a handle on himself and give Penny the honest chance she deserved and this was the first step. Squeezing gently, he pressed his chest against her back just hard enough to elicit a contented sigh from the Spiderbite princess before she continued speaking. "Anndddd," she said, a smile in her voice now, "I don't race warnicorns because they're too rough, too hard to control. The Butterflies are renowned for their use of warnicorns, but they were bred for battle which doesn't exactly make for a good racehorse. Not to mention…" she giggled again, pushing Marco's hand down to rub the crease where her thigh met hip, I prefer a gentle touch when it comes to riding…"

The innuendo wasn't lost on Marco, and he felt his cheeks burn scarlet at the feel of her taught, shapely thigh under the thin fabric of her riding pants. He knew exactly what Penelope was hinting at, but before he could respond, his phone began to vibrate in his front pocket, shattering the lustful thoughts that had been swirling in his head. Fishing it out quickly, he prayed that it wasn't Star calling to interrupt his date, as he'd mentioned it to her yesterday.A fact that had earned a non-committal shrug from her. He was relieved, however, to see Reynard's grinning face on the caller ID, and answered the call on speaker so Penny would know he wasn't concealing the identity of the caller from her.

"Hey, Reynard, what's up?" he asked.

"Marco, I don't mean to interrupt whatever fantastic adventure you've found yourself on this morning, but I must ask… Where in the bloody multiverse are you? The parade of champions is set for two hours from now and you still have yet to be fitted for your armor." He sounded annoyed, but nonetheless waited for a response as what Marco could only assume were hammers hitting anvils rang in the background.

"I'm on a date with Penelope and we went for a ride. We're probably what? 20 minutes from the castle?" he looked at her for confirmation as she nodded her agreement.

A pregnant silence blared from the other end of the line before Reynard let out a contented sigh. "Ah, the tender rose of young romance, I remember it well. But if you're going to compete in the tournament as you agreed to, he stressed, drawing out the word with returning worry, "then you better get your behind back to the royal armorer. They may be fast with those magic tools of theirs, but they are not that fast if you know what I mean."

"Ohhh Marco knows how to take his time…" giggled Penelope as Marco rolled his eyes, while his friend roared with laughter on the other end of the line.

"Just get your loverboy back in time, Penelope. If he misses his fitting, he can't compete and I'll horse whip him myself if he goes back on his word to me after that…unpleasantness yesterday," said Reynard once he'd managed to get his laughter under control.

"He'll be there, Reynard. Give us 20-25 minutes."

They both said their goodbyes to the Viscount before Marco was struck by a sudden jolt of anxiety. "I haven't ridden a horse in almost four months…" he said aloud, talking more to himself than his girlfriend. "And the joust is the first event! I'm gonna get creamed!"

"Marco, relax," she soothed, turning in the saddle and cupping his cheek as his nervous brown eyes met her steady green ones.

He had forgotten how calming those eyes could be when they were not narrowed in anger or frustration, and he found that some of the anxiety making his guts feel like he'd swallowed a five-pound block of ice had faded. It was refreshing to be able to see Penelope relaxed and enjoying herself, but it was when she leaned in and gently pressed her lips to his that he felt the tense string of his usual worry begin to ease its hold. Closing his eyes, Marco slipped a hand back around her hip as he worked his lips against hers, parting his to allow her nimble and eager tongue entry.

To her credit, Penelope didn't miss a beat as she slid and rolled her tongue against his, moaning lightly as his hand slid off her hip to rise up and cup her breast through her dress. Turning her head, she deepened their kiss playing back and forth for dominance as his tongue invaded her mouth this time and his hand squeezed hard enough to elicit a much louder moan. "Marcooo," she purred between heated bouts of hungry kisses, "I wish we could stay here al-mmm day, but we need to get back to the castle. I want to see my brave warrior in action again." She punctuated her words by running her teeth lightly along the length of his tongue, a move that made shivers race up and down his spine.

Breaking apart from a slightly kiss-drunk Marco, she slipped off Grend's saddle and patted it lightly to get his attention. "Why don't you take the reins and ride us back. You'll get a little practice and hopefully, it will help when the joust comes."

Blinking in confusion, he struggled to find words. "A-Are you sure? I'm so out of practice and you've had him so long. If anything were to happen…"he stammered slightly as his girlfriend merely smiled and nodded.

"I trust you, Marco."

Her words, meant to be reassuring, felt like a physical wound and his mind raced as images of his moments with Star floated up like accusations. Their kiss and subsequent make-out the night after the Bounce lounge. The various kisses he'd either allowed to happen or sought out himself over the past week. And finally… The passion-filled evening of only several days ago where he and Star had crossed more than a few boundaries together. Each of those treasured memories stung him now, a shameful reminder of his divided affections.

"You there?" Her words snapped him back to reality as he shook his head gently to dismiss the intrusive thoughts.

"Sorry, just having a 'Marco' moment," he muttered, reaching down and helping her up to sit close behind him. When she'd secured her seating and wrapped her arms around his waist, he gave Grend a small squeeze with his heels and prayed. But to his pleasant surprise, the horse seemed to respond immediately and soon he found them leading the trio in a steady trot as they wended their way back up the trail.

"See? You picked it back up in like…two seconds," reassured Penelope as she rested her chin on his shoulder. "Besides, didn't you train on warnicorns with Reynard?"

"Uh, yeah, why?" he answered, not entirely sure what she was getting at. Grend gave out a derisive snort, shaking his head as they vaulted over a fallen tree.

"Well, like I already told you, warnicorns are more willful than horses. And if you were able to get a warnicorn to listen to your commands to ride in a tilt, Grend will be a piece of cake." Grend took that moment to nicker in agreement as Marco urged him to pick up the pace into a light canter. "I think he likes you," giggled Penelope as she gave him a playful squeeze.

"I like him too," he laughed, reaching out to stroke Grend's mane.

The two rode in silence for a moment, Marco focusing hard on every inch of the trail in front of them lest Grend break an ankle on a rabbit hole, until Penelope cleared her throat and nudged his arm gently. "Hey, so um…you never told me how Reynard convinced you to compete."

Was it his imagination, or did Penelope sound…'Scared?' he thought before deciding that wasn't quite right. 'No… It was more…worried,' he decided as they passed under the dappled light streaming through the canopy of trees above. Figuring that he could allay her fears if he answered her unspoken request for more information, he chuckled. "Well, at first I didn't even think he was being serious…"

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

"Fine. But I'm not competing alone."

Reynard's words prompted a laugh from Marco before his face split into a huge grin. "C'mon…" he chuckled again, shaking his head as Star joined in on the laughter. However, when Reynard's face remained impassive, the smile melted away into a face of disbelief. "Wait, you were being serious?!" he asked, sharing a skeptical look with Star.

"I never jest about tournaments, Marco," said Reynard, leaning against a tree and frowning over folded arms. His sky blue eyes were burning with determination as he carefully chose his next words, speaking only after a pregnant pause that had both teens on tenterhooks. "Look, I thank you for your…intervention. I was being a self-indulgent clod, to which you and Star rightfully came and reminded me that wallowing in the tragedies of the past is a fool's errand. But if I am to undertake this endeavor, I would ask you to enter with me. To share in the glory of victory should we succeed, or commiserate in the ignominy of defeat."

To his own surprise, Marco found that his immediate reaction to his friend's words wasn't doubling down on his disbelief, nor was it a polite refusal either. In fact, he found himself strangely curious to know more about the tournament and why Reynard thought he had any prayer of succeeding. He didn't know if it was the thrill of the competition, or if it was his growing sense of adventure that Reynard had so carefully nurtured over the past few years, but something was telling him he should not dismiss this opportunity out of hand.

Curious, he took a second to glance at Star and saw she still looked like he'd suggested she stop eating sugar for the rest of her life. Looking away quickly to avoid bursting into laughter, he asked the question that had been dancing on the edge of his thoughts. "Soooo, why do you think I should enter the tournament, besides as a 'brother in arms' that is?"

"Because I believe you have a better than fair chance to claim the laurels."

"Errr..."

"Victory, Marco," laughed Reynard, giving the teen a disappointed look. "And before you say something silly like 'why'," he added quickly, interrupting Marco who had just opened his mouth, "let me explain exactly why I believe you to be a bit of the dark horse. I checked with Lord Parcival once I learned of the tournament's reinstatement. You see, even in my temperamental and sullen state, my curiosity got the best of me. The tournament will consist of five events, the champions of which shall engage in a winner-take-all melee to determine a champion of champions. Each of these events: joust, archery, strength, and fortitude are meant to allow the entrants to show off their acumen in that particular area of knightly skills."

"But that's only four eve-" began Marco, before a slim finger pressed to his lips and a loud, "Shushushushushush!" from Star drowned him out. "Let him finish, Marco," she added as he rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in defeat.

"Excellent timing, Cousin," Reynard nodded at a now grinning Star before continuing. "Marco, I've trained you to joust, and though you've never tilted at a live opponent, you have exceptional aim and I suspect you will do adequately in that regard. The archery is a simple target shoot with the highest scoring archer winning. Here you may struggle but worry not, as most knights have a skill in which they are deficient. The strength competition is usually something suitably ludicrous like lifting a hay wagon, or a warnicorn… You are no invalid, so I expect you will acquit yourself fairly well in this event as well."

Pausing, Reynard took a moment to observe both teens. Star was her usual excitable self. And though she was clearly relishing in the thought of seeing some excellent competition, he knew it would be tinged with no small amount of bitterness. As Crown Princess, she was rarely allowed to compete in events that might pose any risk of serious injury, lest the succession be endangered. But it was Marco that intrigued him most of all. Unlike Star, who for the most part wore her emotions on her sleeve, her guide and best friend was much more guarded. His face had a neutral, noncommittal expression that didn't betray his feelings one way or another, but there was something in his eye, a quiet gleam that told Reynard he had the teen's undivided attention.

"So as I was saying," he continued when the silence had reached a peak, "The fortitude competition, meant to test one's ability to endure hardship, has been any number of things. From how long a knight can endure a heated enclosure, to eating spoiled field rations whilst not expelling the contents of one's stomach. Always a laugh, that last one," he added with a chuckle. "But the last event…now that is something I would wager my sword arm you will excel at."

"What's that?" asked both teens simultaneously, sparing each other a quick amused glance as they leaned forward hungrily.

"The unarmed melee," answered Reynard, laughing at their timing. This wasn't the first time he'd witness both of them speaking in perfect synchronicity and it never failed to make him smirk.

Reynard knew he had Marco the second the words left his mouth. An eager grin had appeared on the boy's lips and he was leaning just a little bit farther forward from his position leaning against a tree. "Most knights know how to fight unarmed, but they don't hold a candle to your training and skill. I've seen you in our sparring matches, and your performance against Star at the sleepover was nothing short of astounding. No offense intended, Cousin," he added quickly when Star pulled a sour faceat the mention of her show-stopping defeat. "But trust me when I tell you this, Marco; you will wipe the floor with most knights and all you need is one victory to be entered into the final melee against four others."

Marco was silent for a long, considerable breath before he raised an eyebrow at his mentor's enthusiasm, asking only, "You really think I can win that event?"

"On my life and honor as Viscount Reynard Butterfly, I do."

There was another long pause as a chilling breeze blew through the clearing of trees where they were gathered. Finally, after some careful consideration, Marco nodded. "Then count me in."

Hefelt a thrill of giddiness run through him at his acceptance and his imagination raced with images of himself winning the unarmed melee. He could easily picture the smiling faces of his parents in the crowd and the adoring look of Penelope. 'And Star,' whispered a tempting voice that immediately summoned visions of his best friend and the dance they'd shared only the night before under the crimson light of the blood moon. Pushing that tantalizing thought aside, he couldn't help but remember Reynard's words at their first meeting over tamales. "I can offer you the chance to be more, Marco… To be more than you are now." And give Marco that chance, he certainly had. Reynard had done nothing less than usher him into a new and fantastical world. A world that Marco didn't even know he had been starving for, but now wouldn't trade for anything.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Marco."

Marco almost cricked his neck he turned his head so fast, unbelieving that it was Star's voice he had just heard. "Star? You- ….What?" he said, feeling like she'd thrown a bucket of ice water on his enthusiasm.

Feeling extremely uncomfortable as she shifted from leg to leg, Star found it hard to make eye contact with her best friend. "I know you're excited and all…" she began, finding the courage to finally meet his crestfallen gaze witha look of pained reality, "but this tournament is no joke. The knights tend to go really overboard showing off for my parents and the various other Mewni royalty. And with humans and mewmans not exactly getting along right now… I just think you might have a target on your back is all…"

Watching him carefully, she shifted uncomfortably against the tree.'Oh, corn…' she thought, feeling the painful irony even as she spoke the words, 'here I am, the 'rebel princess,' urging my best friend to play it safe…'

Marco was stunned momentarily as his best friend's words washed over him. 'A target?' He knew human/mewman relations had always been a bit contentious, but he never expected that the knights might target him specifically. "You really thin-" he began before she interrupted him, her face looking unusually grave.

"Not all knights are as chivalrous as you'd think. Remember what I told you on the hill?" she asked, and he nodded, vividly remembering her words that some knights on Mewni were as bad or worse as the most bloodthirsty monsters.

"Actually, she's quite right, Marco," said Reynard, standing from his relaxed position against a tree and approaching both teens. "I know for a fact that Sir Merrimack will be entering into the tournament in Parcivalls stead, and that blaggard is about as trustworthy as Toffee."

"An asshole," clarified Star, reading the slight tilt of confusion to Marco's head. "He's Lord Parcival's personal knight. Remember that dusty old jerkface from the tent?" She had to fight to keep the smirk off of her face when she remembered their shared moment of bashing the miserly old Duke together. "Well according to that paperwork I brought my mom yesterday, he's putting up the gold for the tournament prizes and I bet you anything he's making Merrimack enter so he can win most of it back."

"He very well may be, Cousin… But I believe that between Marco and myself, we shall acquit ourselves admirably and defeat Merrimack, in spite of whatever devious tactics he has planned." Reynard was grinning widely now as he stuck out his hand for Marco to take. "So I will ask you again, Marco. Will you join me in this quest for glory?"

Taking a second to glance at Star before answering, Marco was surprised to see his best friend still looking worried. She must have felt his gaze, for instantly her sky blue eyes met his own brown ones, and in that shared moment, he nodded ever so slightly before smiling at her. It wasn't the confident grin of their time at the sleepover together, nor the nervous, anticipatory smile of their last Friendship Thursday. It was merely an unspoken reassurance that he appreciated her concern and would watch his back. And when Star returned the nod, adding a small smile of her own, he finally felt comfortable, turning and grasping Reynard's arm. "Like I said, earlier… I'm in," he answered, beaming as the older mewman burst into laughter and slapped him on the back.

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

"So yeah, that was basically it," explained Marco as he guided Grend to a stop outside the castle armorer's shop. Handing the reins to a stable hand that had seemed to materialize from nowhere, he watched as Penelope effortlessly dismounted before slipping out of the saddle himself. Curious, he watched as she leaned into the groom's ear and whispered something before the servant nodded and led Grend back towards the stables. He was actually just about to open his mouth to ask her what that was about when she reached into her shirt and withdrew a gauzy, light green scarf.

"Thanks for a wonderful time this morning," she said, smiling as she leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips. "I know things have been a little…strained lately, but I really appreciate you making some time for me before the tournament today." Unfolding the scarf in her hands she laid it flat, making sure the embroidered Spiderbite crest was clearly visible. "This scarf is woven from the silk of spotted canopy spiders. It's really rare and really soft and I want you to wear it as a favor in the tournament."

"A favor?" Marco wasn't really sure what she was getting at. Did she want something from him? He glanced down at the overlapping spiders forming a wreath-like crest around a leaf as Penelope let out a light giggle.

"All knights worth their salt go into a tournament with a lady's favor. It's a token of sorts… Something a lady at court bestows on a knight she… Loves." Penelope said that last part very quietly, though, from the stunned look on Marco's face, the meaning wasn't lost on him.

Swallowing hard, he could only get out a weak sounding, "Thank you," as she leaned forward and slowly wrapped the scarf around his neck. It was incredibly light, and even in the heat of the California summer, he barely noticed the added layers on his neck. 'Did she just say she loves me?' His thoughts were racing as his girlfriend finished tying the scarf and tucking its ends under his shirt. So far in their time dating, she had never said anything even close to "I love you." But by the slightly embarrassed way she had let it slip when explaining the favor, perhaps she was being serious. 'Or perhaps,' a nasty thought cropped up in his head, 'she is only saying it because she knows it's do or die for our relationship…' The thought made the hair on the back of his neck prickle with anxiety. He always tried to see the best in people, preferring to trust in everyone's inherent "goodness," but it was hard to shake the sneaking suspicion that this might just be a last-ditch effort by her to hold onto their foundering relationship.

"Penny, I-," he began before she pressed her lips against his once more. This time their embrace was filled with a smoldering heat that was completely lacking in the peck of before and he soon found himself kissing her back eagerly. He slipped a hand around the small of her back as she placed a soft hand on his cheek to deepen the kiss.

After several long moments of unbroken passion, they finally stepped apart, both red-faced and panting slightly before Penelope reached down to take his hands. "I meant what I said yesterday about trying to be cooler about things," she said, giving his hands a light squeeze as if to emphasize her point. "I'm going to really try to be better, I promise."

"Hey, it's not just you. I've definitely haven't been the easiest to deal with either," he added, crouching slightly to meet her downcast emerald eyes. Unbidden images of his various indiscretions with Star floated in his mind and he felt a mixture of guilt and defiance run through him in equal measure. From the beginning, he'd had feelings for Star. Powerful feelings that made it very hard to deny their instant chemistry; feelings that continued to drive a wedge between him and his girlfriend. How could he give himself a real chance of developing those feelings for Penny when he was spending his Thursday nights in bed with Star. "But that changes today," he finished, deciding there and then that if Penny was serious about changing for the better, so would he. 'No more kissing Star unless I can actually give her my heart,' he thought, knowing it was the only thing that was fair to all three of them. Grinning crookedly, he was glad to see her own broad smile growing as he continued. "I really like you, Penny, and I definitely want to make us work. Sooo let's both try to be better than what we've been, okay?"

"Definitely," she nodded before a mischievous look took hold. "Sooooo, I have one more surprise in store before I let my brave boyfriend go get fitted for his tournament," she said as she trailed her finger down his chest.

"What is it?" Marco was blushing now as she giggled.

"I want you to be the one who rides Grend in the tournament," she whispered, leaning in for another soft kiss. "He already trusts you, and I can't think of anyone I'd rather see on him."

Opening his mouth, Marco found that he had no words. Letting him take the reins on the ride back to the castle was one thing. But letting him use her prized horse in a dangerous joust? That was another ordeal altogether… "Penny…" he started to say when she silenced him with another kiss.

She held him there in her soft embrace for a long time, softly kissing him until she felt him relax in her arms. Pulling back, she smiled at his now serene face and spoke softly. " I trust you. Plus, you already have a feel for how to control him and Grend has experience in the list. It will help to have a mount that's done this before, especially since…"

"I've never done this before and I'm probably gonna get annihilated?" he laughed, quickly letting it fade into an uncomfortable silence at the stricken look on her face. "I think, with some help from Grend, I should be fine…" he tried to reassure her. "I've practiced a ton with Reynard and even though I'm going to come last, I'm sure I'll be okay." An angry buzzing from his pocket made him jump slightly and a quick check of the caller ID saw that it was Reynard, no doubt anxious over his failure to show up yet. "Hey, I really gotta get in there to get fitted, thanks for letting me use Grend today; I promise I'll take excellent care of him. Do you want to come in and watch me get fitted?"

"Oh actually… I was thinking he'd take excellent care of you," she laughed. "I expect my boyfriend to return to me none the worse for wear after this is all over," she teased, throwing her arms around his neck and stealing another gentle kiss. "And as much as I love watching you take your shirt off…" she purred quietly as she stepped back from him, "I actually have to go meet my parents. All this extra security is making it take hours to get everyone seated and the royal families have to be there the whole time to 'keep up appearances'." She laughed as she put the last part of her words into air quotes. "Sometimes being a princess can be a drag, Marco. But I'll see you this afternoon after the first events are over, okay?"

"Sure thing, Penny," he nodded, stealing one final kiss before watching her hurry away. Turning, he let himself into the armory and jogged towards the back where he knew Reynard would be waiting with the royal armorers.

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

"Keep yer knickers en place, Laddy, else ya be turned inta a Lass," ordered Vitruvius as he steadied Marco for what must have been the tenth time in as many minutes. "We dinnae 'af much time, and ye been squirmin like an eel since ye goat here."

"Sorry," mumbled Marco as he tried to ignore the rivulets of sweat that were running down his face to soak the gambeson he was wearing over his t-shirt. To say that the armory was hot was like saying Tom wasn't the best people person; it didn't quite cut it. Why they needed to do the fitting next to roaring, open forge, he didn't know, but the blacksmith had been very adamant they do it here in this sweatlodge.

And speaking of fitting… When Reynard had mentioned jousting armor, he had images of knights in intricately engraved and enameled armor; resplendent in plumage and heraldry. And while his friend certainly cut a dashing figure in blue and silver inlaid plate armor, Marco felt like he was being fitted with cast-offs from a trash heap. Some of the pieces like the breastplate and helmet were hand-me-downs from Reynard. Old practice armor from his younger days that fit Marco well enough with some minor adjustments. The rest of it, including everything below the waist, was a mismatched nightmare of scratched and dented pieces. It seemed to him that Virtruvious was spending more time mending cracks and replacing missing buckles than actually making sure the pieces fit comfortably.

Reynard, for his part, was having a ball. He was laughing so often at Marco's ridiculous appearance that the sweltering heat of the forge was hardly bothering him. Every now and then, he'd have to excuse himself to speak to a servant, but each time he re-entered, he had to cover his mouth to keep from laughing out loud, a move that always earned a scowl from Marco. "Hahaha, Mar-arco," he laughed, barely keeping his voice from cracking with mirth. "I've heard of the Knight of the Wash, but the Knight of the Refuse is a new one on me!"

"Hilarious, Reynard, Just wai-*BANG*" the heavy wooden door of the armory burst inward to slam against the stone wall with a huge crash, causing everyone in the room to jump. Panting like she'd run all the way from the stands, was none other than Star, looking uncomfortable in her poofy princess dress, but otherwise happy to see Marco.

"Marco!" she shouted, rushing over to him and brushing past a thoroughly put out looking Vitruvius. Throwing her arms around him, she gave him a quick, but slightly awkward hug due to his protruding and puzzled-together armor. After a moment of relief from their troubles, however, Star stepped back and sniffed the air through a wrinkled nose. "What's that smell?" she asked as Reynard cleared his throat loudly, motioning with a nod that they should look down.

"GAH!" shouted Marco as he saw the side of his sneaker was on fire. A piece of red hot steel must have slipped from the blacksmith's tongs when Star kicked the door open and landed close to his shoe. Stamping his foot several times to no avail, he spotted a bucket of water nearby and quickly hustled over to it, dunking his leg in up to the knee.

"Fer corn's sake Lassie! Ah dinnae care if yer the bleedin princess, save the 'splosions and shock fer outwith! Ahm cookin' steel 'ere… It be right dangerous in'ere, an doon ye know to be careful in mah forge!" shouted the blacksmith to the confused looking teens as Marco as he pulled his leg from the water bucket.

"Do you know what he's saying?" he whispered as Star merely shrugged before pulling her wand out.

"Aye, forget it… Wasteh meaoon breath, talkin' tae ye!" groused Vitruvius as he dunked the final piece of Marco's armor he was working on in the bucket to cool.

"We'll give you two a moment then," said Reynard as he motioned for the blacksmith to follow him out of the room, though not without the latter mewman grumbling the entire time.

"Wit gusto, am hoofin', just dinnae tek too lung wicher kissy faces," he added from the door, "Tourney starts in fafteen."

Waiting for the heavy door to shut with a *thud*, Star smiled again once she was alonewith Marco. "Let me help with this," she said, kneeling and aiming her wand at his still sopping foot. "Sparkling Sunshine Dehydration Beam!" With the words uttered, a glittering beam of yellow light flashed out, drying Marco's pant leg in an instant.

Nodding, Marco was impressed. "Wow, Star," he said, inspecting his now dry, but extremely shiny pant leg. He'd half expected it to catch on fire, but It looked like the only damage was a nearly overwhelming amount of glitter. It made it look like he'd tried to bedazzle his jeans but gave up after doing only half a leg. It seemed like only last week that Star couldn't even muster up a sandwich in that dingey cave, but he had to admit; she'd really come a long way.

"Yeahhh, I've been working on my may-jack. My mom said something about how a queen must have a 'well-rounded knowledge of magic' or something like that," she said, before attempting to spin her wand like a gunfighter and promptly dropping it. Blushing, she knelt to scoop it up and quickly stashed it inside her dress.

Chuckling slightly, he held out a hand and helped her back to her feet. "Sooo, why'd you burst in here so out of breath?"

"I was running realllly late getting ready this morning. You know how much I hate wearing clothes like this." As if to emphasize her point, she stepped back and did a short little twirl. Forced to choose between a plethora of bad options, she opted to wear a new dress she was sure he hadn't seen her in yet. It was a shorter version of her pale blue princess dress as he'd come to name it, though this one was shorter, designed to accommodate the oppressive July heat.

"Hey I think you look great," he said, wincing slightly at theblush that immediately bloomed around the hearts on her otherwise pale cheeks. "Besides…at least you don't look like you got your outfit from a scrap heap."

"They won't be laughing when they see how much butt you can kick though." Star mimed a karate chop before doing a good imitation of a front kick that whizzed so close to Marco's face that he had to step back.

"Easy, Star…" he said, holding his hands out to block a few light punches she threw. "But the unarmed melee isn't even until day two, so let's just hope I survive the joust intact enough to fight."

Star seemed to consider his justified fears for a moment before a thin smile played across her lips. "Well, maybe you just need a little something for luck?"

"What do you mean?" He had to admit he was curious what she was talking about and he became even more so when she snaked a hand inside of her skirts and began to root around. "Uhhh, Star?" he asked, unsure if he should avert his eyes or not.

"Just a sec, Marco. Alllmooooooost-GOT IT!" she shouted as she pulled her hand free from the ruffles and lace tohold up the object of intrigue. Clasped in her hand was a leather bracelet, ringed with small silver spikes. It was immediately familiar to him as the bracelet she wore almost every single day, and when she held her hand out for his, he had a strange feeling of deja vu. "Soo there's a tradition on Mewni that goes back a really long time. To like my great-great-great-great-great grandma Festiva's reign as queen."

'Is she?' A startling thought rocked him as he watched Star grasp his hand and slip the cool leather around his wrist. "Star…" he began, but she held a finger to his lips, silencing his protests as she continued. "I know it's only supposed to be for boyfriend-girlfriend kind of situations… And you have Penelope and I have Tom…" she sighed, "but maybe…just this once?"

He could see the orange light of the open forge in her hopeful blue eyes and watched for a moment as its dancing flames cast their ruddy glow on her cheeks. It immediately drew his mind back to the other night and the look in her eyes as they danced on a ribbon on ruby light. And despite whatever promises he'd made himself regarding Penelope, he knew in that moment, he could never deny her this small gesture. After everything they had shared, everything they'd said to one another, both spoken and unspoken; he could not bring himself to refuse Star's romantic gesture. He may have resolved to try harder with Penelope, but he knew deep down that she would never have sole ownership of his heart. A piece would always belong to Star, even if it was only enough for small things like this.

"I'd be honored," he said finally as he placed his hand over hers, squeezing it lightly.

"Thank you," she smiled back before leaning in and planting a gentle kiss on his cheek. "It's not Thursday, but I think that much is allowed," was all she said, giving him a knowing wink when he'd touched the spot and cocked his head.

"Arr ye quite feenished?" The gruff voice of the blacksmith made them both jump and blushing, Star hurriedly smoothed her skirt.

Deciding she couldn't leave without one more embrace, she quickly stepped up and threw her arms around her best friend's armored form. "Kick some butt out there Wild Man," she whispered before breaking the embrace and sprinting towards the now open door. "Bye Marco! See you at the lists!"

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

Hurrying her way past several groups of alert guards, Star cursed as she nearly tripped over her fancy shoes. 'I hate getting stuffed into this dumb dress for stuff that would otherwise be fun!' she thought, her attention so focused on her angry thoughts that she didn't see a nervous-looking Tom before running straight into him. "OOF!," she groaned, stumbling from the impact that knocked him to the dusty ground.

"Ow! Watch it, you clumsy fu-" he started until he looked up and saw Star standing over him rubbing her forehead. Instantly, upon hearing his voice, her attention snapped to him and he felt a chill run through him at the look of cold anger that dawned on her face.

"Tom…" she said, struggling to keep her face passive as memories of their recent issues threatened to overwhelm her composure. She was doing her best to give him the benefit of the doubt and observe his behavior as Marco had suggested. But his recent antics at the ball were fresh on her mind and even now, on a chance meeting, he still looked just so…guilty. Perhaps it was her own assumptions getting the better of her, but she couldn't help it, and she knew it.

"Starship…" His eyes were downcast and his voice small as he picked himself up and dusted off his suit. Chancing a hopeful glance at her, he felt his anxiety spike at the complete lack of affection on her face. She was watching him, almost studying him and he got the distinct impression that the next few things he said might be some of his last as her boyfriend if they weren't extremely well chosen. Finally, after an awkward moment of mutual tension, he said the only thing he knew she wanted to hear from him right then; "I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?" came her frosty response.

The question wasn't one asked in ignorance. Tom knew she was putting the onus on him to come clean about his behavior during the ball, but still… There was something else going on. Thinking back to the previous evening, he remembered how she had acted so peculiarly that night, barely speaking for their entire journey to the underworld and picking at her pasta dish all during dinner. 'Not to mention getting suddenly "ill" and needing to leave halfway through…' he thought before a panicked thought struck like a thunderbolt.

Did she know about his father's bargain with Toffee? 'There's no way…' he decided. If she had truly put two and two together from the conversation she overheard, the Star he knew and loved would have narwhal blasted him through a wall and broken up with him on the spot. But still, there was no denying that something had seriously gone wrong that night, and he mentally replayed the events of his conversation with his father and her interruption in his head. Initially, nothing seemed out of place; until he remembered something she had teased him about during one of their last dates before they'd been separated. "You're a terrible liar," she had said with a smile that time, and when he'd pressed her for details, she had explained that he always scratched the back of his neck whenever he lied to someone.

'So she's known since our date that I didn't tell her the truth about my conversation.' It was so painfully obvious now why things had felt so strained between them these last few days and he had to push down the triumphant smile that was lurking behind his contrite exterior. The ball was in his court now, and he intended to play the game until sudden death, should it come to that. Sighing, he stepped closer and lowered his voice so the passing noblesstill making their way to the grandstands wouldn't overhear. "I'm sorry for leaving you at the ball the other night… But mostly…I'm sorry for lying to you on our date." He watched her eyes relax their harsh glare and felt a rush of confidence; he had been right after all about what was bothering her.

Star wasn't sure if she felt better or worse now that she had managed to get him to admit to his deception, and that scared her almost as much as the latent thoughts of what he had been hiding did. But even then, she had still decided to let his behavior at the ball go as a matter of course. 'After all, I did dance with Marco on a literal ribbon of magic,' she thought with an internal grin, but she needed answers to what was really going on with her boyfriend.

"Look, don't worry about the ball stuff…that whole night was crazy. What, with the dancing on weird magic I didn't create, and dealing with Rasticore stealing from the castle vault…I think we all were acting a bit weird that night," she admitted, her cheeks flushing a tinge of scarlet at the thought of her very public dance with Marco. "But why did you lie to me about your call with your dad?"

Frowning, Tom forced himself to keep his hands still and remain calm as he moved to lean against a railing looking out across the lists as he answered her. "Because… Because I knew the truth would hurt you worse than a lie, Star. Things on Mewni are really bad. Like, worse than I even thought they would be," he muttered, his expression darkening. "I wasn't lying when I told you that most of the scouts my dad sent to Mewni had gotten killed. But what I didn't tell you is what they reported back."

Startled, Star stood quickly, her gut tightening as she stared at him. "Wait, what did they report back?" she asked, an edge of nervous dread replacing the coolness in her voice.

"They're dead, Star…" Tom whispered, the color draining from his girlfriend's face as he continued ruefully, "the resistance that chose to remain behind on Mewni have been wiped out. The scouts only found corpses." It hurt to lie to her, and he felt every word elicit a painful pang of guilt as it left his mouth, but he knew it was for the best. He loved Star, and he would do anything to keep their relationship intact, even if it meant telling an ugly lie to protect her from an even uglier truth.

Immediately at his words, Star's face fell. "Everyone… Dead…", she managed to mutter, her face pale as a sheet. She had known many of the knights that had stayed behind to fight on after most of the Mewmans had evacuated. Pegasus feathers…some of them she had even grown up with, knowing them from their earliest days as pages through their squireship and then to full knighthood. Faces streamed through her mind's eye, faces she knew she would never see again and it was almost too much. Unshed tears welled in the corner of her eyes and she had to set her jaw against the sob that threatened to burst out of her chest. Rushing forward, she threw her arms around Tom and squeezed hard, trying to push down the rising horror and grief she knew she didn't have the time to feel at the moment.

"I'm so sorry," she heard Tom whisper in her ear as she continued to hold him, tears now staining the lapel of his suit as she buried her face against his chest. She wasn't sure how long she stayed there, silently embracing him as the crowd thinned to a trickle, but when she lifted her head and gave her boyfriend a watery smile, she felt a strange sense of relief when she saw his own weak one in return. That he shared some semblance of her grief was comforting, even if only just. "I'm really sorry I hid the truth about what happened on Mewni…" he whispered, "I just didn't think you needed more bad news in your life."

Finally, after a shared moment of grief and stress, Star managed a fragile smile."It's okay, Tom," she said, quickly getting up on her tiptoes to plant a light kiss on his lips, "just don't lie to me again. I can handle bad news, I've been doing it since I was twelve."

"You're right, I should have trusted you and not tried to be delicate," he grimaced, going in for another soft kiss he was relieved to see was accepted. Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a makeup compact and popped it open. "Now let me fix your makeup, Starship, you left half it on my jacket."

"Sorry," she sniffed, flashing a lopsided grin as he went to work on her running and streaked mascara. "Hey…um when you're done, if you want to sit with me and my parents, there's an empty seat." In reality, there were three empty seats, two of which she'd reserved for Marco and Janna. But with Marco's decision to partake in the tournament, and Janna's apparent no show to the event, it would just be her and Tom in the stands with her parents.

"I'd love to," he nodded.

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

Settling into the plush seat and breathing a contented sigh, Penelope took a moment for herself before peering towards the far end of the list. She smiled as she spotted Marco on Grend's back and threw a cheery wave. He was lining up with the other knights for the grand procession on the far end of the list. He was talking with Reynard, who looked resplendent in his enameled blue plate on the back of an enormous white warnicorn. 'Reynard showing off as usual,' she mused, as a surreptitious look around the stands told her a significant amount of the young ladies of the court were discretely casting their hungry gazes in his direction.

"Excited, Penelope?"

Her father's question made her turn towards her smiling parents and she nodded happily. "Yeah, I'm glad Queen Moon decided to go ahead with the tournament after all. I know everyone could use a bit of fun after what happened at the ball, but honestly? I'm just a bit worried about Marco."

"I like that young man," said her mother to no one in particular as her father put a hand on Penelope's shoulder.

"I like him too," he said, adding a cheeky wink that elicited a giggle from his daughter. "I think you picked a fine young man to court you, Poppy."

"Dadddd," she groaned, "please don't use that name in public."

"Sorry," he laughed, patting his red-faced daughter on the shoulder, "but you'll have to indulge this old man for a few years longer. When it's your turn to rule, you can outlaw me calling you that as your first decree," he laughed. "But seriously, Penelope, your mother and I are proud to see you making a real effort to take a relationship more seriously."

"I know, I know… Usually, I run through boys pretty quick," she laughed, "but there's something different about Marco. It feels like he doesn't have to prove himself to me… Like it doesn't matter to him that I'm a princess."

"And that doesn't bother you?" Her father had a slightly amused looking smile as he asked her that question. He knew more than a couple of his daughter's last relationships had ended in acrimony due her perceived lack of deference from her suitor.

Smiling, Penelope leaned back in her seat and shook her head. "No actually… I thought it might when we first started seeing each other, but since he never made it an issue it just seemed natural."

"Well, as long as my daughter is happy, who am I to argue about protocol and privilege," he chuckled, giving her one last pat on the shoulder before turning to Queen Spiderbite.

"Sure, Dad," she laughed back, returning her attention towards the lists and immediately spotting her least favorite person in the multiverse. To her right, several empty seats down, Star Butterfly was just sitting down next to the Queen and Marco's parents as Tom looked over from his seat next to her and waved. Politely returning the wave, she was just settling down to a rather lonely tournament when a very welcome voice spoke from behind her chair.

"Hey, dude, is this seat free?" asked Jackie as she flashed a dazzling smile.

"Jackie!" Penelope half-shouted, jumping out of her chair and giving the skater a very unprincess-like hug. Pulling away, she ushered a laughing Jackie into the empty seat next to her. "Where have you been!" she hissed, her emerald eyes boring into Jackie's mint ones. "I've called you like 1000 times since the night of the ball. I was worried that fucking…Thing got you!"

Jackie's smile cracked before sliding into a deep frown."It almost did, dude." Leaning closer, she dropped her voice to a low whisper, "When we got separated after those monsters attacked the ball, that creep made his move. He trapped me alone in the hallway, but a couple of guards found us. I ran when he turned to attack them, but I lost my phone somewhere when I was escaping."

Penelope shuddered slightly. She'd overheard that the corpses of two guards had been found not too far from the ballroom with injuries too horrific to repeat. If something like that had happened to Jackie… 'Don't think about stuff like that,' she admonished herself. "So where have you been hiding? At your house?" she whispered back, nervously watching her parents for any sign that they might have heard.

"My parents are still out of town for another week, dude. There's no way I'm going back to that waterlogged house of horrors by myself," Jackie muttered, shaking her head at the horrifying prospect, "Nah, I've been crashing at a friends house for a bit to get my shit together before I heard about this. Besides, they're gonna flip when they see how trashed it is."

"Well, don't worry about that, I'll have Marco ask…Her to fix everything up before your parents get back," said Penelope, trying and failing to keep the anger out of her voice. She found that even the mention of the blonde princess's name lately was enough to elicit a hot streak of anger in her.

Across from her, Jackie merely nodded and changed the subject. "So Marco's competing in this thing…" It didn't seem like a question, so much as a statement of pleasant surprise, and both of them looked over to where Marco was lining up at the back of the procession knights.

"Think he'll be alright?" said Penelope, her voice tighter than she would have liked.

"You're worried about the Safe-kid?" laughed Jackie, giving her pale-faced friend a nudge with her elbow. When Penelope didn't smile, she took a moment to think before explaining. "Look, the old Marco never took any chances. He just kept his head down and always played it safe. If you asked him back then he would only say he was being cautious, but the fact of the matter was that he was scared. Scared to take chances, scared to put himself on the line to get the things he wanted. Now though…" she said, and Penelope saw the proud look on her friend's face, "now he goes after the things he wants. He isn't afraid anymore and look what that's gotten him. He's made amazing friends, learned how to fight like a knight, and he has my awesome best friend as his royal girlfriend. Trust me, Penelope… Don't be scared for Marco, because I know he isn't."

Maybe it was a trick of the light, or maybe just a sunbeam reflecting off some piece of polished steel armor, but for a moment Penelope thought she saw a strange yellow tinge stain her friend's normally mint green eye. But as suddenly as it had appeared, it was gone, and she blinked several times before the sound of the herald's horns sounded to call the arena to attention. Past Jackie, Queen Moon had just stepped to the railing of the royal , the murmuring crowd fell silent; the excitement for the coming events running like electricity through the assembled mewmans and their guides.

"Citizens of Mewni," began the queen, her voice magically amplified above its normal level so that it rang out clearly through the entire tournament grounds. "It is my proud privilege to welcome you and our human hosts to the Midsummer Royal Tournament. After four years of hardship and loss, pain, and deprivation, I am pleased to be able to reinstate this centuries-old Butterfly Family tradition." Pausing for a moment, Moon scanned the faces in the crowd and felt her heart swell. Mewmans, young and old alike were smiling and whispering to each other as they waved the various banners of the knightly households that would be competing that day. 'After everything we've been through… Losing our homes, losing so many of our neighbors and loved ones… To see so many happy faces out there.' The thought was a salve for her bruised ego to see her people so happy. And though they were largely ignorant of the precarious nature of things right now, the resiliency on display filled her with renewed resolve to see her people through this dark chapter of their history.

Letting her normally stoic face split into a wide smile, Moon continued her address. "I would ask all of you now to please welcome our human guides and hosts to this…august event." She paused again while the assembled mewmans applauded politely. She had never cared much for tournaments herself, but she knew their value to the kingdom as few things brought her people together like a royal tournament. Two days of well-fought competition leading into warm evenings of ale, song, and dancing were always a panacea for whatever ills were currently troubling the kingdom. "Finally, and I speak for myself, King River, and Princess Star when I say thank you to all our brave knights this afternoon." With a flourish of her arm, a streak of blue light streaked skyward, exploding after a short flight into a blossom of blue and pale-pink starbursts. Dazzling lights flickered and soared in the afternoon sky, brighter than any firework and ending with a final crackling burst in the shape of the butterfly royal family crest. Cheers rang out throughout the grounds and she had to increase the volume of her magically amplified voice to be heard over the tumult. "I now declare this tournament, open! May the best competitor win!"

At her words, the trumpeting of the heralds sounded once more and a nervous Marco shifted in his saddle. He was last in the procession of knights that were waiting for their introduction, and ahead of him a grinning Reynard turned in his saddle and winked. "Now when they call your name, simply ride along in front of the crowd and give them a hearty wave. The ladies at court are already buzzing about you Marco, so don't be alarmed if several handkerchiefs or flowers are thrown your way," he said, laughing as Marco rolled his eyes.

"Is it normal that I feel like I want to throw up?" he asked, gripping Grend's reins hard to keep the tremor in his hands from showing.

Laughing so hard he had to grab the horn of his saddle to keep from toppling off his mount, Reynard shook his head. "I threw up three times before my first match in the lists! The fact that you haven't yet spilled your guts speaks volumes about your courage!" he shouted, his face beaming with pride.

"Not filling me with confidence!" shouted Marco as Parcival's snobbish voice rang out and the heralds began their trumpeting while the hulking, black-clad Sir Merrimack urged his huge grey warnicorn forward and waved to the cheering crowd. Marco watched closely, studying the large knight and the route he took through the parade ground. To say he seemed unfriendly was like saying a shark made for a poor swimming companion. He exuded an air of dark menace, his face bearing multiple scars that spoke to his ruthless nature. Parcival seemed to be recounting specific deeds and feats of bravery he had performed over his service to the crown and the more he spoke, the more Marco's gut tightened. Few and far between were acts of chivalry and virtue, with most of Merrimack's various exploits seeming to involve the slaughtering of "vicious" monsters. Clearly, the man had a history of bloodshed and was more than willing to wear it as a badge of honor.

Slowly, the procession inched forward as knight after knight was introduced to the adoring crowd, and Marco was unsurprised to see plenty of the aforementioned flowers and handkerchiefs being tossed in their recognized Lady Whosits from the attack on the ball, the eccentric Sir Lavabo from the guide selection process, and a "Lady Higgs"; who seemed about his age or perhaps a touch older, but who had been shooting ugly glances at him all morning. Each successive introduction served to make him feel smaller and his thoughts raced as to what Parcival would even say when it was his turn to be introduced.

"Mr. Marco Diaz, guide to Princess Star and achiever of an A in algebra…" he muttered under his breath, knowing that his introduction was likely to be a bit of a disappointment compared to the laundry list of heroics the other competitors had accredited to their names.

"Nervous, my boy?"

The amused sounding voice of King River almost made him fall out of his saddle, and he turned to see the king in powder blue plate armor grinning from ear to ear. Nodding, Marco couldn't help but answer honestly. "I've never been more nervous in my life," he admitted, feeling a bit of the weight on his shoulders grow as the king's mirthful face dipped into a more serious countenance.

"Marco, I have spoken extensively with Reynard over the past two years regarding his mentorship of you. At first, I was amused that he took such a shine to an Earthling and a male one at that," chuckled River. "But over the following months, it became very evident to Moonpie and I that you had something quite special." Placing a massive, gauntleted hand on his shoulder, River continued, "Now I know you don't have much experience in these matters… Nor do you have a storied list of accolades in combat. But I know you have something far more important."

Marco felt some of the pressure that had been rapidly building in his chest lessen somewhat, replaced with curiosity at the king's sympathetic words. "What's that, Riv-Your Highness?" he asked, quickly catching himself as the king roared with laughter.

"Heart, Marco; you have the heart of a warrior inside of you. Don't try to deny it," he interrupted, when Marco made to argue, "I've seen it in person. First, when you stood toe to toe with my daughter during her sleepover, and again during Rasticore's attack the other night."

Marco couldn't speak for a moment. If he could ascribe any emotion to the words the king had just said to him, perhaps it would be "touched" and "overawed." He had spoken with River several times in the months he'd been Star's guide, most recently at the now-infamous "sleepover." And while the king had always seemed to take an interest in him, this was the first time he'd seen River speak so strongly on a matter involving him. Intending to say something with a bit more gravitas, he felt his cheeks burn when he could only eek out a timid sounding, "T-Thank you," before mentally kicking himself for tripping over his own tongue.

"A man of few words, I like that!" laughed River as he patted Marco's shoulder so hard he nearly pulled him from the saddle. "A true warrior speaks with his actions, and today, I suspect you will show many of my fellow mewmans that humans are skilled, resourceful, and brave. So do not concern yourself with how you may place in the tournament results, simply try your best. It is all anyone, including yourself, can ask."

Now it was Marco's turn to grin as he gripped the jousting saddle hard and forced himself straight once again. "I really appreciate your faith in me, Your Highness. I'll try not to disappoint you or Star." He could have kicked himself for letting Star's name slip, but thankfully the king merely threw him a knowing look and chuckled.

"Good luck in the tournament today, my boy. Just remember my words and you can't go wrong, in either of your endeavors…" said River, as he urged his mount forward to the head of the remaining procession. Marco listened as Parcival, clearly surprised that the king was partaking in the tournament, struggled to properly announce him over the sound of the mewman's in the stand going wild.

It was several minutes later, with only a single knight left to be introduced before him when Marco shifted to stretch his protesting back. "Crap," he sighed as his steel helmet tumbled off the spot where he'd wedged it against the saddle and Grend's barding to clatter on the dusty ground. 'Great, now I'm gonna have to find someone to help me back into the saddle when I get off to get my helmet…" he thought ruefully.

"Need a little help, Diaz?"

"Janna!" he nearly shouted, feeling awkward when he couldn't keep the excitement from edging his voice.

"Nice to see a familiar face in this sea of Mewmanity?" she laughed, stooping to pick up the fallen helmet and handing up to him.

"What are you doing here? I thought you said 'Meatheads bashing each other's heads in with sticks wasn't your thing'?" he asked as he slid the musty smellinghelmet over his head.

"Yeah well… It seemed like the place to be today… Besides," she shrugged, looking around at their nearly empty surroundings and then over to where each knight was lined up, their attendant squires standing at attention nearby. "Looks like you're in need of a squire if only a temporary one."

He knew she was right. In the coming days, he'd need help donning and undonning his armor and Reynard would be too busy with his own preparations to be much help. So faced with no choice at all, he made the only sensible decision. "You're hired! I'll buy you Panucci's for a week for your help today and tomorrow."

"Oh I know you will," she laughed, flashing his wallet before slipping it into the pocket of her jacket.

"Get out of town," muttered Marco, shaking his head while up ahead, the final knight trotted out onto the grounds to the clarion call of the heralds. The continued musical trumpeting snapped him out of his exasperated state and he stood stock-still in the saddle. 'Why does every knight seem to have their own specific music…' he thought before his brain finally caught up with a panic fueled tightening of his gut. He'd forgotten to inform anyone of his music choices, so he'd be riding into the stadium in awkward silence as Parcival read out his less than impressive achievements.

"Stressing about your entrance music?" asked Janna as she studied his somber face. Well versed in reading Marco's moods from their long time friendship, she could recognize a Marco moment coming on from fifty feet and this one looked a big one.

"How'd you know?"

"Dude we've been friends even longer than you and Jackie… You think I can't spot you freaking out about something as lame as entrance music?" Pausing, Janna shifted uncomfortably as Marco looked on, a half-smile creeping onto his face at her rapid shift in demeanor. "Look, I know meeting and hanging out with all these super cool Mewmans might have made you a badass or whatever, but some of that old nervous Marco is still in there. Soooo, uhm…" she said, with a dismissive wave, "don't sweat it, Diaz. I got something special cued up for you."

"Jannaaaa," he groaned, too afraid to even ask.

"What? I didn't steer you wrong at the sleepover, that song slayed!"

"Alright, alright," he laughed, nodding in agreement. "I gotta hand it to you, it was a great pick. What song did you have in mind for-" But his words were cut off as a driving bass beat began to fade in. "Janna, you didn't…" He shook his head as he recognized the song immediately from his parent's love of all things 80s.

Music Cue: Love is a Battlefield

Pulling her phone out of her pocket, Janna shook it at Marco. "Better get going, Sir Galahad, your adoring ladies are waiting," she laughed as red-faced, he stuttered as he tried to say anything before simply giving up and spurring Grend forward slowly towards the entrance of the tourney grounds.

"A surprise entrant this year, our final competitor is human. A Misterrr," Parcival's voice boomed, pausing to read the scroll in front of him, "Marco Diaz. A resident of the city of Echo Creek, he is currently in the employ of the crown as Princess Star Butterfly's personal guide and an erm… swordsman in training? Well then, let's all give him a hand and hope the other knights aren't too hard on him," he chuckled, just as Marco walked Grend out onto the tournament grounds and the lyrics cut in.

"We are strong. No one can tell us we're wrong. Searching our hearts for so long, both of us knowing. Love is a battlefield."

The Crowd was silent as he began his one-man parade, first up the side of the field before turning in front of the royal stands and in front of all the other knights. Wishing he could vanish on the spot, he stared straight ahead, mortified to look left or right as the crowd watched in stunned silence. 'Christ, even the birds aren't making a peep! What gives?!'

"You're begging me to go, You're making me stay. Why do you hurt me so bad. It would help me to know, do I stand in your way? Or am I the best thing you've had."

Turning at a loud whistle, he saw Jackie waving to him furiously from her seat next to his girlfriend. She had a massive grin on her face, and when she noticed he was looking at her, she redoubled her efforts, jumping up and shouting to him, "Way to go dude!" A moment later, Penelope was on her feet as well, cheering alongside the blond surfer girl and throwing Marco a blown kiss.

"Believe me, believe me, I can't tell you why. But I'm trapped by your love and I'm chained to your side."

Slowly, it seemed the crowd of mewman's were beginning to get into the song as heads everywhere began to bob along with the infectious beat. The sight of so many people in the crowd grooving to the music bolstered him, and he felt some of his embarrassment melt away as the chorus kicked in again.

"We are young. Heartache to heartache we stand. No promises, no demands. Love is a battlefield."

At those seemingly prophetic words, his eyes flicked to the blonde princess sitting only a few seats away in the center of the platform. Only twenty feet away or so from her position on the carved thrones of the royal family, he could see the pink staining the pale skin around her cheek marks. And when they made eye contact, he felt the unspoken bond between them that somehow made the "too real" nature of the song not matter anymore. 'Screw it!,' he decided, before giving Star a hearty wave, which she returned enthusiastically.

"We are strong. No one can tell us we're wrong. Searching our hearts for so long, both of us knowing. Love is a battlefield."

Parcival had stopped talking or had his voice drowned out by the now cheering crowd, Marco couldn't tell. Mewmans and humans alike were dancing in the stands as he guided Grend to the end of the line of knights, many of which had begun tapping the plates of their armor in time with the music. Steadying his mount, he smiled at the crowd, his gaze shifting between a dancing Star, looking beyond adorable in her princess dress, and Penelope, who was still waving madly at him and blowing him a kiss whenever their eyes met. The crowd seemed so swept away by the lively entrance music that the cheers and shouts rang out for a full minute before quieting to let Parcival announce the initial matches.

Star couldn't help the massive grin she was still wearing as she sat back down and her Mother turned towards her, the ghost of a smile on her face. She had expected a reprimand from her mom for her "unprincess-like" dancing and as such, was pleasantly surprised when Moon spoke up. "That was, well… Well, it wasn't exactly traditional, but I would say Marco has certainly got the hang of things. I look forward to seeing what he can do."

"Me too. I actually never got the chance to see Marco in action before," added Tom, and Star, who was just about to tell her mother to expect a good show, choked slightly before whipping around and staring at her boyfriend in wide-eyed shock.

"Whaaaaaa?" She couldn't contain her disbelief at hearing him use Marco's actual name, not to mention the complimentary tone in which he had used it. "Alright who are you and what have you done with Tom?" she asked under her breath when her mother had turned to speak with another noble. Tom's unrelenting hostility towards Marco was something she had come to accept. Like the fact that Penelope despised her; which, a quick peek past her boyfriend's head confirmed as the brunette shot her a filthy look. 'But Tom being actually nice about Marco?' It was a confusing thought, and though she hated herself for going there, she was immediately suspicious.

Reaching over and taking her hand, Tom shrugged and gave her a small, careful smile. "Look I know I've been kinda…aggro about Marco since I met him. But," he paused before sighing, "I also know he's your best friend. So I'm gonna try to be a bit nicer to him."

Star didn't know what to say. Tom had always been prickly and moody at the best of times, both of which were part of his whole… "I'm a demon, fighting my inner nature, thing" she suspected. And usually, he only offered to change when he knew their relationship was on the rocks. So to have him out of the blue offer to treat her best friend with some more respect was surprising to say the least. 'Just keep an eye on him. Do some…investigating.' Marco's words of their amazing Friendship Thursday together seemed to ring out, unbidden in her mind. Was her subconscious mind telling her something? Or was it just the memory of that night choosing an inopportune time to surface. Deciding to shelve that tricky moral question for the moment, she merely nodded to him. "Thanks, Tom, I appreciate it."

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

Lowering the steel visor of his helmet, Marco gripped the shaft of his lance tightly as it rested on his armored thigh. 100 yards away, his opponent was just settling into his own saddle and making final preparations for their first tilt at one another as the crowd maintained their perennial cheering and enthusiasm. Theirs was the last match of the first heats, and for that, Marco was thankful. The matches had given him a chance to refresh himself on the rules, and he mentally went over them in his head as he watched his opponent struggling with his helmet. 'Okay, so three tilts and the best score wins. One for breaking a lance on the chest, two for breaking it on the helmet, and an instant win if you knock the guy off his horse,' he repeated in his mind.

Oddly enough, he felt strangely…calmer than he ought to be considering the violent sport he'd stupidly volunteered to participate in. But, he'd had a chance to watch 15 other matches, including Reynard's absolute drubbing of Sir Lavabo, wherein their first tilt he'd unhorsed the knight of the wash and won the match. Bit by bit as he saw what to expect, his pounding heart slowed to a mere insistent knocking; and as he made his final preparations, even Janna was uncharacteristically silent as she watched from the sidelines.

Tuning out Parcival's latest concealed snipe at him, this time consisting of the snooty lord wondering if Marco's "patchwork and hand me down armor will provide any meaningful protection to the hammer blows of Sir Florent," he tensed as a servant walked onto the field with the flag that would signal the start of the tilt. In a moment, the flag dipped, and he spurred Grend on with a squeeze of his heels. The thoroughbred horse was like caged lightning set free and as he thundered down the list, the roar of the crowd joined the pounding of hooves that resonated throughout his body as he lowered the lance straight at his opponent.

*CRASH* It felt like someone had hit him in the chest with a sledgehammer and the rattling of steel against steel was nearly deafening inside of his helmet. Marco felt his body forced to bend back in the saddle as Sir Florent's lance slammed into the steel grand guard over his left shoulder. Struggling to remain in the saddle, Marco held on tight as Grend slowed to a stop at the far end of the list. When he'd regained his bearings enough, he glanced up and saw that the tip of his lance was unbroken, having missed Florent altogether. Behind him though, the crowd was cheering wildly as Sir Florent discarded his shattered lance and the scorekeeper inserted a small flag to denote that the score was now 1-0.

Guiding Grend back towards his end of the list, he was just passing Sir Florent when the older knight raised his visor and sneered. "My apologies in advance, Mr. Diaz. You see it's nothing personal,and I do hope you harbor no ill-will for me after this, but you see… you simply have no business here among true knights," he said, an almost apologetic tone to his voice as Marco simply stared straight ahead and kept riding. When he reached his side once more, Reynard came sprinting in, red-faced with excitement.

"Not bad for a first time against an opponent. I'd say that went better than expected," he said, the words seeming to exit his mouth so breathlessly, it took Marco a second to understand him.

"I missed, Reynard! How is that, 'not bad'?" he said, doing his best to keep the incredulity out of his tone. It was hard to keep his voice even when his entire body was still aching from the impact of Sir Florent's lance, and he could distinctly hear some jeering from the crowd.

"Well, yes, you did miss… BUT the important part is that you took a blow and remained in your saddle! Most hits that solid end in the rider being unhorsed," explained Reynard, and Marco raised his hands in mock celebration causing a nearby Janna to choke slightly on her laughter. Sparing her an exasperated glance, Reynard pressed on as he double-checked Grend's tack for any loose straps. "Look, I was watching your technique and I observed you pulling your lance upwards when you raised your head before the strike. Next time, make sure you only tilt your head and not your chest. You proved a natural in the rings, so simply don't think and let your training guide your lance."

"All right, I'll try," said Marco as a chuckling Parcival called for the riders to make ready. Lowering his visor once more, he kept the advice in the fore of his mind, repeating to himself over and over in a quiet voice, "Keep the lance steady."

Once more the flag was raised, and Grend surged forward at the lightest touch from Marco's spurs. "Strike true and strike hard, Marco!" shouted Reynard after his friends retreating form, watching as the lance came down and angled across the list towards his charging opponent. Concentrating hard on Florent's jostling and bouncing image through the small slit in his visor, Marco counted down the seconds before impact, and just as his lance was about to make contact, quickly snapped his head up. *CRUNCH* Both lances hit true this time, their spindly shafts shattering into clouds of needle-sharp splinters. Once more, Marco felt the hammer blow of Florent's lance breaking on the left side of his armor and though hard, the blow seemed to be less powerful this time around. He was able to regain his bearing sooner in the saddle, and when he'd discarded his broken lance and turned back towards his end of the pitch, the sneer appeared to have fled from Florent's face when he paused to face him.

"Ah so I see you have some fight in you after all," said the knight, grimacing slightly as the crowd cheered wildly. "It would appear I underestimated you, Mr. Diaz… Well struck." Marco could see a trickle of blood running down his forehead to stain his blonde eyebrow red as they shared a silent nod and continued to their end of the list.

"That was brilliant, Marco! A staggering blow if one has ever been struck!" shouted Reynard once Marco had come within earshot. "You nearly unhorsed the man, excellent work!"

"I just followed your advice, didn't think and...BAM!" Marco smacked his armored fist into his palm.

"Exactly!"

"I don't mean to burst anyone's bubble," said Janna, interrupting the jubilant duo, "but you only have one more tilt and you're down a point. Soo…"

"Irrelevant," scoffed Reynard, shooting her a reproachful look. "Win or lose, Marco has proved his mettle. Besides, Sir Florent is breathing like a wounded screech hippo, I would wager fifty crowns he won't withstand another hit."

Across the way, Marco saw squires attending to Sir Florent. They'd removed his helmet and were wiping his face clean while he appeared to be taking a drink from a large mug. "Do you think he's alright?" Marco asked when he saw Florent wobble slightly as he was handed his helmet.

"He would withdraw if he were too injured to compete," said Reynard, passing him a fresh lance. "Now, remember… Only avert your gaze at the last instant, and make sure to keep the tip of the lance on target."

"Rightttt," nodded Marco, shutting his visor and watching for the flag to raise. 'This is it. Win or lose, I've shown up and done my best, and that will be good enough for me,' he thought, and immediately the faces of Penelope and Star swam into focus. He knew they were likely both worried about him and a quick glance into the stands showed that both girls were waving and cheering. Hell, even Tom seemed to be smiling, though that could just be his normal grimace. Things had seemingly gotten so complicated and out of his control so quickly in the last week, he wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do. 'I just need to get my feet under me or I'll-'

"MARCO, GO!" Shouted Janna, and he looked up to see that the flag had been raised and Florent was a quarter of the way down the list already. 'Shit!' Her words snapped him out of his "Marco moment" and, panicking slightly, he dug his heels into Grend's flank and shot off like a cannon down the pitch. His mount seemed to understand the urgency, as in a matter of yards, the fence posts of the list were a blur as he aimed his capped lance tip squarely at the chest of Sir Florent. Squeezing Grend's reins so hard, his hand ached, Marco steadied himself as best he could in the jostling saddle. He could see down his lance, concentrating hard to dampen its swaying aim as the range between them rapidly closed.

*Crash* The sound of armor plates rattling against each other rang out all over the tourney grounds as Marco's lance collided with the steel breastplate of Sir Florent, the latter's own lance going wide and missing completely. The mewman was driven back in the saddle, rolling from the impact until he slipped out and tumbled off his warnicorn's flank to slam into the hoof-beaten ground. He ragdolled limply for several yards until finally stopping to lay still in a billowing cloud of dust. Pulling hard on Grend's reins, Marco guided his mount to a sliding stop amid a torrent of cheers and shouts. Laboriously, he pulled his leg free of the stirrup and dropped to the ground with a sound like a shelf full of tin cans falling over.

"Please don't be dead, please don't be dead," he muttered to himself as he noisily jogged over to Florent's still form. Kneeling with great difficulty, he gently rolled the mewman onto his back and lifted the man's visor as several servants ran over with a canvas stretcher. "Hey!" he half-shouted, knocking on the fallen knight's helmet, "you in there man?" There was no response, and he was just about to slip a hand in to check his pulse when the fallen knight groaned and levered open an eye sticky with blood.

"As I said before, Mr. Diaz… Well struck," he said, baring his teeth in a pained smile as the servants arrived to lift him onto the stretcher to renewed cheers from the crowd.

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

An hour later, Marco was sitting in Grend's saddle and beginning to think that entering into this whole thing might have been a huge mistake. The cheers of his victory against Sir Florent seemed a lifetime ago now after he'd endured an hour of Parcival's not-so-subtle ribbing about his "luck." And now that he was getting into the later rounds of the tournament bracket, the competition was only getting fiercer. Minutes ago, he'd just watched Reynard defeat River three lances to two in an incredibly close match and now it was his turn again to face an opponent. That opponent? None other than the hulking and grim-faced Sir Merrimack who looked like a vision of death in his jet-black armor across the way on the other side of the list.

Shifting in the saddle, he tensed as he watched the flag bearer walk onto the field and hold the signal flag out. The roaring cheers seemed to fade into meaningless background noise as the flag quavered for a moment before being pulled skyward and once more, Marco urged Grend forward with a squeeze of his heels. Speeding off down the list, he kept his eyes squarely on the huge knight as he lowered his lance and worked to seat it in the cradle bolted to his armor. "C'mon…get in there," he growled as he struggled to fit the handle into its receptacle. Ahead, his lance tip was swaying back and forth wildly and he chanced a quick glance to see what was wrong and spotted it instantly; it was bent out of shape.

'Crap…' It was the only thought his brain had time to process before the three-pronged coronal of Merrimack's lance tip slammed into his chest. Alternating flashes of blue sky and brown ground were all Marco could see though his tiny view slit as the force of Merrimack's lance ripped him from his saddle and tumbled him end over end to finally slam into the ground. The impact blew every molecule of air from his lungs and he spent an uncomfortable thirty seconds struggling to pull air back into them as he rolled onto his hands and knees.

Waving away the medics who had rushed out onto the field to help him, he had just stood when Merrimack rode up. "Go home, boy… You're just a child playing at being a man and you should quit before you get hurt…" he said, spitting into the dirt next toMarco before laughing and riding off as the crowd exploded into cheers.

"Screw you too…" groaned Marco as he got to his feet and trudged towards a waiting Reynard and Janna.

In the stands, Star was doing her best not to look as worried as she felt. Marco had just taken a massive tumble, and she hoped he wasn't seriously injured as there was no way she could slip away to help him with her "Radioactive healing slugs" spell. Beside her, Tom was actually looking slightly concerned as well, something that was making Star both nervous and hopeful.

"You know, Marco didn't do too bad for a human," he said, looking over at his tight-lipped girlfriend. "He beat that first knight, and got unhorsed by that scary looking Merrimack guy."

His complimentary tone was still confusing to her, and it took a moment before registering what he had said as she watched Marco get to his feet unsteadily and trudge off the list. "O-Oh, yeah, definitely. I know humans aren't as strong as mewmans, but Marco can kick some serious butt. Just wait until the melee!" She knew she was forcing more cheerfulness into her voice than she felt, but if Tom knew just exactly how worried she was about her best friend, she suspected the return of his sullen and angry tone was all but guaranteed.

"Funny how I've missed like every time he's fought…" Tom mused.

Star didn't miss the veiled implication there but decided she couldn't avoid taking the bait anyway. "Well, he doesn't just fight for the sake of it. Marco's really big into only using his skills to protect people. I've never once seen him threaten to use his 'Carrot-ee' on anyone who wasn't causing trouble, which usually means he only does it when we get in trouble with monsters or during our adventures."

"I wouldn't mind going on one of those adventures sometime, Starship."

"We have our own adventures, Tom. They're called dates," she said, cringing slightly at how much defensiveness he heard in the tone of her voice at the thought of him butting in on her special time with Marco. 'Oh corn, here we go…' she thought, expecting him to make a comment. But instead, he merely sighed and changed the subject.

"Soooo, who do you think is going to win the joust?"

"Definitely Reynard now that dad is out," answered Star, happy to have something other than Marco to talk about. Tom's apology before the tourney and his continued upbeat attitude toward her best friend was beginning to wear on her conscious. So much so, that it was causing her to think about last Thursday and now she found those blissful memories with Marco slightly tinged with guilt.

"Reynard's certainly great, but Sir Merrimack looks unbeatable. He smashed Marco in one hit! Do you know him?" He was curious to know how close Star was with the various knights of the kingdom as he himself would be hard-pressed to even remember their names.

"He's a huge jerkface. He got in trouble more than once during the war for 'excessive use of force' on monster prisoners. He's only still a knight because Duke Parcival is so rich and influential at court, to be honest." Star pulled a disgusted face as she spent the next ten minutes recounting several of Merrimack's darker exploits that had landed him in hot water with her parents. From the slaughter in the singing mountains to his complete disregard for orders to retreat; his record was as red as the fires of Lava Lake Beach.

"Eh, doesn't sound too awful to me," said Tom once she'd finished. "B-By demon standards, of course," he added quickly when she'd turned towards him with a reproachful eyebrow raised. However, in deference to his good mood and olive branch apology, she decided to let the matter drop.

Back in the lists, Marco was glad to be out of the Joust as he iced his shoulder and watched the remaining participants battle for the first berth in the final. He'd stripped off his patchwork armor an hour ago and stretched out most of the soreness that was lingering from his fall from Grend's back. Reynard had advanced once again over Lady Whosits and was just making final preparations for the championship round against Sir Merrimack, who seemed to have swept through the field like an unstoppable avalanche.

Glancing into the stands, he made eye contact with Star, who seemed to be watching him for some reason. He waved to her, eliciting an enthusiastic one in return which quickly died when she noticed Penelope glaring at her through Tom. Shifting his attention to his girlfriend, Marco waved to Penelope who blew him another kiss from her position in the stands. Grinning, he turned his attention to Reynard just as the flag was raised on their first tilt and watched as the Viscount tore down the lists.

Despite even his limited experience, Marco could tell Reynard's form was perfect as he brought down his lance with the precision of a machine, only to see Merrimack match him move for move. They came together with the now-familiar *Crunch* of splintering wood and he was relieved to see Reynard remain in the saddle despite the crushing impact of Merrimack's lance. 'Looks like he gave as good as he got, though,' he noted as a single flag was placed in each competitor's scoreboard as they each returned to their end of the list.

Jogging over to where Reynard was accepting a new lance from a pimple-faced squire, Marco could hear his friend's labored breathing through his visor. "You alright?" he asked.

"I think I broke a rib…or three on that last tilt," he answered, his voice a strained grunt.

"Should you be jousting with broken ribs?" Marco knew what his friend was going to say before the words even finished leaving his mouth, but his natural inclination towards safety and concern compelled him to ask anyway.

"Oh, I shan't let something as trivial as a broken rib stop me from claiming victory today, Marco. Besides, the castle healer can fix me up in a couple of hours and I've never been great shakes with a bow so missing the archery competition won't hurt my chances overall."

"Umm," started Marco, but just then the flag was raised, and Reynard urged his warnicorn forward with a loud, "Ya!"

"See you after I win this thing!" he called back as he tore off down the list at the charging Merrimack, the crowd silent save for the pounding of hooves on the hard-packed tourney grounds.

Again Marco watched Reynard race down the tilt, lowering his lance with precision honed by hundreds of matches. Despite training with him for over two years, Marco was incredibly impressed, that despite multiple broken ribs, Reynard could still hold his lance rock steady. In fact, Marco was so focused, he had to force himself to breathe as the two riders closed the distance until their lances made contact. *CRASH* The sound of shattering wood and clattering armor was joined by the high-pitched whinny of both warnicorns as their riders were forced back by the crushing impact. Both mounts stumbled and fell, crashing through the thin wooden fence separating them and tossing their riders roughly to the ground before struggling back to their hooves.

"REYNARD!" shouted Marco, sprinting onto the field while an irritated Parcival announced a rare double unhorsing. Sliding to a stop next to his friend, Marco was relieved to see him already rolling onto his back.

"Make that, four ribs," groaned Reynard as Marco helped him to his unsteady feet.

"C'mon, let's get you to the medics." Straining under the additional weight of his armored friend, Marco grunted when he and Reynard bumped into the hulking form of Merrimack. who appeared uninjured from his own fall.

"Lucky hit," growled the knight as he stared them both down. "Next time we meet, it won't be a tie. And you'll need more than this snot-nosed human to carry what's left of you from the field." He glared at them both for a moment, before roughly shoving past, making sure to knock into Marco hard as he stomped his way back towards his end of the pitch.

"Friendly guy, I can see why he and Parcival get along so well…" said Marco once he was sure the hulking giant of a mewman was out of earshot.

"Birds of a feather, Marco…" winked Reynard as they finally reached the medic tent.

"So what does it mean that you and Merrimack both unhorsed each other?"

"We'll *ungh* both qualify for the final melee," said Reynard, grunting in pain as the medics helped him out of his armor before fixing Marco with a serious look. "And don't think for a second that Merrimack was just boasting back there. That was no mere idle threat and I fully anticipate having to be on the lookout for when we meet in the melee. So watch your ass."

"Ohhh I can think of two princesses who are already doing that for him," came the voice of an amused-looking Janna as she let herself into the medical tent.

"Janna…" Marco shook his head as he headed for the exit while Reynard roared with laughter. "Look, I have to go get ready for the archery competition, you gonna be okay?"

Reynard mulled over the question for a moment before one of the nurses assigned to the wing made her way over, already beginning her assessment of his injuries. "I believe- gah! ...I believe I am in very capable hands, actually," he struggled to answer, the nurse getting to work on removing the damaged armor.

Marco narrowed his eyes, Reynard meeting them with a coy smile. "I kinda feel like you might be taking advantage of your injuries," he finally noted with a chuckle, "if you know what I mean." The nurse, oblivious to both Reynard's immediate affection and Marco's insinuation merely continued to work as Reynard shook his head. "I haven't the faintest idea as to what you're referring to."

"Sure…" He rolled his eyes at the wolfish grin on his friend's face and made to leave the tent once more before pausing and turning back. "You sure you're gonna be alright? Because frankly, you're the only reason I'm in this thing."

"Worry not! The bewitching royal medics have patched me back together countless times before, so keep your mind on the competition. I will see you for the third event," called Reynard as Marco and Janna headed back to the tourney grounds where straw targets were now being set up.

"Marco, do you even know how to shoot a bow?" asked Janna as they got closer to the other knights.

"Of course I've shot a bow! Once or twice…" he said, his voice noticeably quieter at the end. "Granted, it was six years ago at summer camp, but… yeah. I'm totally gonna look like an idiot out there, aren't I?"

"Heh, probably…" chuckled Janna, "but think of it this way. You can't be good at everything, right Diaz?"

Glancing at her, Marco felt some of the nausea-inducing anxiety in his gut lessen and smiled. "Definitely not."

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

Twenty minutes later, Marco was waiting with the other competitors as Parcival announced the order in which they'd compete. 'Second, great…' he thought, knowing that at least he'd get the embarrassing part of today over with early. Stepping out of line to gather his bow and quiver, he had to jump back to avoid colliding with a female knight about his age. She was the same one who had been shooting him dirty looks during the joust and he was unsurprised when she turned out to be less than friendly.

"Watch it nerd!" she spat and took several more steps before stopping and turning to scowl at him. "Wait a second…" the knight paused as dawning comprehension showed on her face, "I know you. You're Princess Star's guide, right?"

"Yup," he nodded and extended a hand, "and hi, I'm Marco, nice-"

But the words died on his lips as she batted away his hand. "Look, Marco, if I cared about you enough to ask for your name, I would have."

"Woah, what's your problem?" he asked, stepping back slightly as the other nearby knights chuckled. He even thought he heard a "Good one, Higgs" from one of them.

Higgs' eyes narrowed as she advanced on a slowly retreating Marco and she jabbed a finger into his chest. "The fact that you're even here competing is my problem, dork. Queen Moon might have opened up the tournament to the human guides, but you aren't worthy of being here. You're just a weak human who's only here because Princess Star's got some kind of sick crush on you."

"I'm dating Princess Penel-" But again he was interrupted by another sharp jab and he had to restrain himself from seizing the unfriendly knight's hand and causing an incident.

"Half the kingdom knows how bad Star's got it for you, wimp. So a couple words of advice," sneered Higgs as she paused to let the other knights laugh sycophantically. "Drop out of this tournament now and quit pretending you're anything other than Princess Star's glorified tour guide. Otherwise, we're gonna have major problems."

Without another word, she turned on her heel and swept away as Parcival introduced her to the roaring adulation of the crowd.

Over the next ten minutes, Marco witnessed the ginger-haired knight put on an absolute clinic of marksmanship. She hit four out of five bullseyes on the moving straw targets, only missing the last by a hair's breadth. 'This is gonna suck…' he thought as her score was announced to yet more wild cheering from the mewmans in the stands.

"Beat that, loser," she hissed in his ear as she passed.

Rolling his eyes, Marco stepped forward to theline and pulled an arrow from his quiver just as Parcival introduced him. "And once again, here is Marco Diaz of Earth. We last saw him face down in the dirt after his unhorsing at the hands of Sir Merrrimack." Laughter rang out in the stands at his words and he felt his cheeks flush crimson as Parcival continued. "Let's see if he's better with a bow than a lance this time around."

At those words, the targets in front of Marco began to move and weave, each one seemingly to change direction every couple of seconds. Carefully he nocked an arrow and drew back on the bowstring, sighting in carefully. 'Breathe and concentrate,' he repeated in his mind over and over again as he focused on the first target about fifty feet away. It was a mental exercise he practiced in Sensei's Brantley dojo, but he felt like it was probably just as applicable to archery as it was to breaking boards. Feeling his heartbeat slow as his focus calmed his nerves, led his target just a tiny bit, and released his grip. *Thwang* The bowstring sang as he let it go, and he had a tiny moment of hope before he was forcibly reminded that he had almost no experience in archery as the arrow shot out from his bow at a weird angle before donking off the nearest post directly into the rear end of a now howling Manfred.

"I've been shot! Call the guards! Intruders in the arena!" he shouted before realizing what had happened and quieting at once.

Dropping his bow, Marco jogged over to where Manfred was still dancing in pain, the arrow swaying back and forth as it stuck out at an odd angle from his butt. "I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry Manfred, it was an accident!" he apologized as he tried to see how deeply the arrow had penetrated.

"It is quite-Ow-alright, Mr. Diaz. Accidents-Ow-happen," said Manfred through gritted teeth as medics ran over to attend to him.

"Ooo, that's going to be an instant disqualification from the archery event for accidentally shooting the High Steward in the arse," laughed Parcival, as the crowd roared alongside him.

In the stands, Star was torn as Tom laughed himself into tears beside her. Most of her felt empathy for just how embarrassed Marco must be right now as thousands of mewman's laughed at him. But a small part hoped Manfred was alright, despite her inner amusement at seeing her long time nemesis and killjoy dancing around with an arrow sticking out of his butt.

"HahahahaIcan'tbreathe," choked Tom as he doubled up from laughter in his seat.

Chancing a quick glance past him, Star waved to a smiling Jackie who returned the gesture before a scowling Penelope leaned forward. Quickly turning away from the glowering princess, Star sat back in her chair and sighed. 'Yeah…Defffinitley not getting invited on any more double dates,' she thought as a corner of her mouth lifted and a quiet giggle escaped, causing Tom to look up at her.

"Don't you hate that guy?" he asked, before turning to see a still-glaring Penelope with murder in her eyes. Slowly turning away from her scorching look, he kept facing forward and dropped his voice low so only Star could hear him. "Uh, Starship? Are you and Penelope not getting along right now?"

"Tom we haven't gotten along in weeks…" she whispered back.

"Yeahhh, but this seems to have crossed from simple dislike into something a bit moreeee," Tom paused as he struggled to find the right wording. Aggro? Hateful? Homicidal? All of these seemed to fit but he wasn't sure he wanted to test Star's mood right now by being too candid. Thankfully she seemed to read into his hesitation and finished his sentence for him.

"Hateful?" she added, an almost hopeful tone to her voice. "Yeahhh, let's just say her and I aren't seeing eye to eye on a lot of things right now."

He knew "a lot of things" was code for Marco and though he held his tongue, he couldn't help but feel a bit empathetic of Penelope's situation. After all, Marco and Star had been spending a lot of time together and that dance last night seemed to suggest… 'No,' he decided, there was just no way Star would ever be romantically interested in such a low-born human. 'Keep calm and let it go. Remember those breathing exercises Brian taught you, there was no reason to be jealous of Marco.'

"You knowww," began Star, looking over at him, "Marco and I are supposed to hang out with Janna and a couple other of his Earth friends in a few days once the tournament is over. I don't really know what they have planned, but if you're serious about being nicer to Marco and Janna, you can come." It may have been a bridge too far to expect Tom to extend the same courtesy to every one of her Earth friends, but Star would be the first person to admit that she did not deal in half measures. So she was a little surprised then when Tom merely nodded and smiled, adding a confident-sounding, "yeah definitely."

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

"Really? A drinking contest?" asked Marco, his face incredulous as servants brought out several long wooden trestle tables. "This is the fortitude portion of the tournament?" It was early evening now as he stood next to River and Reynard; the fiery California sun low enough to cast the grounds in beautiful golden light as everywhere, shadows lengthened. Having competed with varying degrees of success in the first two events of the day, he was extremely surprised to see the servants setting up what amounted to a drinking game between the competitors.

"Revelry is one of the pillars of the warrior spirit, my boy!" laughed River, clapping the teen on the shoulder. "Besides, we aren't on Mewni anymore and the castle larder doesn't have enough pickled gungabird eggs to make a fair competition out of it."

Deciding to gloss over whatever horror show eating "pickled gungabird eggs" might entail, Marco pressed on. "You do know that my parents are in the stands and I'm not 21 yet, right?" Drinking a beer or two at Star's sleepover with his parents' miles away was one thing… But now they were actually in the stands watching him.

"Pish-posh, Marco. This is for the competition! I, for one, know your parents would be more than willing to overlook this minor trespass of the Kingdom of California's laws. Besides you're in the M.R.C. which I just so happens to be king of. So if I say you are allowed to drink cornale, then you are allowed to drink cornale."

Too exhausted to argue, Marco saw it was useless to protest any further and he decided to let the matter drop. Besides, it might not be that bad. He remembered enjoying the ale that was served at the sleepover quite a bit, so what was the harm in having a few tankards with Reynard and River? So when the servants had set the tables and he'd settled onto the bench across from them he was feeling quietly confident about the last task of the day. "You know, I'm actually looking forward to having some of that Johansen Special Reserve again. Last time was fantastic."

He watched Reynard and River share an amused look before the king spoke up. "Oh, I only share that with my guests in the royal banquet hall, Marco. We'll be drinking something a little less precious and rare: Johansen Festival Stout."

He was just about to inquire as to what kind of beer that was when Janna, grunting with effort, slammed a mug the size of his head down on the table.

"Your tankard of ale my liege," she said, rolling her eyes so heavily that Marco had to cough to suppress a laugh. "I don't know what kinda beer this is, but if it tastes anything like it smells, you're gonna be sick as a dog," she said.

"I beg your pardon, young lady," fired up River, "I'll have you know that my family's festival beer has been popular on Mewni for hundreds of years. In fact my great-great-great-"

"She's already gone," interrupted Marco, and the king looked miffed as he turned left and right to spot the besmircher of his family's brewing prowess.

"So, uh…" said Marco as he gave his beer a tentative sniff and wrinkled his nose at its heady, yeasty smell, "how do you win this event?"

Ignoring the king, who was cooing and whispering to his own massive tankard, Reynard explained. "It's very simple. Parcival will turn an hourglass and whoever has consumed the most tankards without passing out or vomiting wins the competition."

It was as if the cantankerous old noble had been listening, for just then Parcival announced the start of the contest with a blast from the heralds' horns. Picking up his giant wooden mug with both hands, Marco carefully tilted it forward until the strong, dark beer touched his lips. Letting some of the room temperature liquid pass between them, he almost choked as the strong bready flavor threatened to gag him. Immediately, he put down the mug and stared at both of his companions as they continued to drink deeply from their own tankards. "How strong is this stuff?" he asked when had Reynard finally put down his mug, belching loudly.

"It is a festival beer, so not overly strong. The Johansen clan brews it for celebrations like weddings and holidays, and on Mewni, even younger teens drink the stuff so it is meant for everyone. Not a ton of kick, but great flavor!" he said, having to shout over the cheering crowd and the belching and laughing knights all around them.

Marco wanted to tell him it tasted like someone had wrung out a burnt loaf of bread that had been soaking in water for a week, but with the king sitting right there, he held his tongue. Instead, he simply nodded and focused on the task at hand, getting as much of this terrible beer down as he could without puking or embarrassing himself too badly in front of Penny and Star. So with a sigh, he picked the hefty tankard back up and tipped it back, doing his best to keep his mind off the taste by mentally going over his karate kata in his head. 'Low block, step, punch, high block, front kick.' Visualizing the moves helped to take his mind off the taste, and he found that if he really concentrated on perfecting the sequence to each kata in his mind, he could barely taste what he was chugging.

"I did-Buuurrrrrrrrrp!" he covered his mouth as his triumphal shout was interrupted by the loudest belch he'd ever done.

"Excellent, Marco!" shouted the king who was already motioning for a servant to bring him a third tankard.

His cheeks scarlet, Marco let out a small grin as he made eye contact with Reynard over the viscount's own gigantic wooden mug. The younger Butterfly's eyes were crinkled in mirth and he was almost choking on his beer as he fought to keep from losing his composure completely. *Clunk* The sound of another large mug being deposited in front of him tore his attention away from the struggling Reynard and he saw a grinning Janna hovering over him.

"I got a bet going with one of the other squires, Diaz. If you can get three of these in ya, he's gonna give me his glass eye; so don't let me down!" she whispered before seeming to melt into the background of cheering squires and servants.

'You can do this, Diaz' he told himself as he hefted the mug to his lips and tipped his head back once more. This time around, the going was slower as his mental exercises didn't seem to help quiet as much now that his stomach was starting to protest under the sheer volume of beer he was ingesting. 'Low…block, …step, …high…block,' he thought as the final dregs passed between his lips and down his throat with a struggle. Shuddering as he placed the tankard back onto the scrubbed wooden table, he struggled to hold in the belch that was threatening to burst out of him. He was so full he didn't quite trust that his stomach wouldn't send more than just gas this time and so, instead, he just let out a series of controlled smaller burps to ensure nothing else came up.

"And with the time half gone, we have a virtual tie between King River Butterfly," Parcival paused to let the mewman's shout their approval, "and Lady Whosits, who has stormed into a tie for first place with her seemingly bottomless stomach."

Fifteen minutes later, Marco was swaying on the bench as he stared into the black depths of his third mug. Janna had been almost dancing with glee when she dropped it off, imploring him to "keep it up, Diaz; four mugs and I get a sweet dagger too!" But he knew he was nearing his limit, as his stomach's quiet grumbling at having to drink so much gross beer had turned into a steady shout. "River how many of theesh have yew had?" he asked, looking startled at his own slurred speech. "Ooohhh no. Ahm drunk."

Across from him, a rosy-cheeked Reynard was laughing so hard he almost choked as he watched Marco come to the slow realization that he was three sheets to the wind. Next to him, River had put down his seventh tankard and belched so loudly that he could see Queen Moon rubbing her temples, a mixture of disgust and embarrassment on her face as a laughing Star cheered her dad on. "You certainly are drunk, Marco," he finally managed to say as he watched the teen grasp his mug very deliberately in order to lift it to his mouth. "And for the record, River has just finished his seventh mug. He'd answer you himself, but I think he is much too focused on his competition with Lady Whosits… Who is similarly, on her eighth tankard as well."

A quick glance from Marco was all it took to confirm his friend's words as he witnessed River in a determined stare down with Lady whosits, each one laboriously working on conquering their eighth massive mug of beer. It was an inspiring sight he had to admit, and it seemed to reignite the fire of his resolve as he gripped his own mug and raised it to his lips. Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back and focused everything he had to keep his composure as he swallowed mouthful after mouthful of the dark beer. 'Why is the table moving,' he asked himself only seconds later before realizing he was actually the one moving.

*Splash* He grunted as he landed in the dirt, having tipped off the bench seat and spilling the contents of the mug all over his face and shirt. Around him, knights were laughing and pointing, some so drunk they had to physically hold onto the table to keep from toppling to the dirt themselves. His eyes stung from the beer and he had to blink several times to get the dark brown tint that was staining the sky to go away. Groaning, he rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself to his hands and knees before two things happened in quick succession. First was that the insistent warnings from his stomach that he had so dutifully ignored while trying to finish his third mug had become an urgent crescendo. And the second was the subsequent emptying of the contents of that stomach all over the packed earth in front of him.

"Oooh and it looks like Mr. Diaz has once again come up short, ladies and gentlemen," came the gleeful sounding voice of Lord Parcival as the crowd roared with laughter once more. "He'll be disqualified for voiding the contents of his stomach before the timer ends. Better luck in the next event."

"Mijo!" shouted Rafael as he watched the medics help his swaying son to his feet. To his left, a stony-faced Angie said nothing merely giving him an annoyed "I told you so" look as they both watched their son be led back to the medic tent. She had only reluctantly let Marco compete once they had realized what this event was and he had listened as she and Queen Moon had both expressed their displeasure over the "childishness" of the event for the last hour. And while he certainly didn't approve of underage drinking, he and his wife knew what teenagers his son's age got up to, and as long as Marco was safe, they had agreed not to bring it up around him.

"Excuse us, Moon, but we need to check on our son," said Angie after she and her husband had stood up.

"It's quite understandable after my husband's…antics. That was the last event for the day anyway, so feel free to take Marco home to recover for tomorrow," said the Queen, noting the orange glow that was outlining the distant M.R.C. wall like a fiery halo. "Again I apologize, I did not know what event River had in mind for the 'test of fortitude', but I will be speaking to him this evening about his choice you can be sure,"

"Uhm, Mr., and Mrs. Diaz? Can I come with you and make sure Marco's okay?" said Star. "I'll come right back for the closing ceremony," she added quickly when her mother arched a quizzical eyebrow.

Blowing out an irritated breath, Moon paused to consider before answering her daughter. Long experience had taught her to pick her battles when it came to trying to check Star's propensity for distraction. But she also knew that if Marco was involved, it was likely a lost cause. Deciding to bow to the inevitable, she nodded, "If you really do keep it to ten minutes, then yes, you may go see Marco."

"Uh, Starship?" Tom's strained sounding voice made her whip around to face him.

"I'll be right back, Tom. Ten minutes tops!" she said after feeling the slight increase of heat radiating off him. She knew it probably annoyed him that she was so eager to check on Marco, but at that moment, she didn't care.

Several seats down, Penelope had just gotten up to excuse herself when she felt her father's hand on her shoulder. "Not right now, Poppy. You can see Marco after the closing ceremony."

"But Dad, I-" but her words died on her lips as she sat back down heavily. She knew proper protocol demanded that she stay by her family's side to maintain appearances for the other nobles, but the thought of Star alone with a drunk and vulnerable Marco was intolerable.

"Dude if you're worried, I can tag along?" shrugged Jackie.

"You're a lifesaver Jackie," breathed Penelope into her friend's ear as she pulled the surfer in for a tight hug.

"Don't worry, I've known Marco for years, and no way would he do anything with Star behind your back."

Glancing past her friend, Penelope saw Star hurrying down the row towards the exit after Marco's parents and struggled to keep her face neutral as her eyes met her friend's once more. "It's not Marco I'm worried about. I wouldn't put it past Star to try to take advantage of him in his state right now. Not to mention," she lowered her voice so only Jackie could hear, "she has all that magic. Who knows what kind of spells she could use to get what she wants."

"Well I'll keep an eye out for any…hocus pocus," laughed Jackie as she turned and hurried after the mewman princess.

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

"I'm fineeee mom, I jush had too mush to drink!" slurred Marco after he'd slugged down the second glass of water Angie had handed to him. His head was spinning from the ale, and he felt like the only thing he wanted to do right now was lie down.

"We can talk about how fine you are in the morning young man. But I think it's best if your father and I get you home for a good meal and a restful night's sleep." Taking the empty cup from him, she had to suppress a smile. It seemed like only a few years ago she'd said the same thing to her own mother after a night out partying with Rafael.

"I'm not in *hic* trouble, am I?" looking suddenly alarmed, as if he'd just realized he was speaking to his parents for the first time.

Glancing at Rafael, who wisely chose to hold his tongue, Angie squatted down in front of her son. "I think since Queen Moon informed us that it was River who organized a drinking game as one of the events today, we'll give you a pass this time, honey."

"Thanksh, mom and dad," he grinned before almost falling off the stool.

"Hey, how are you doing, Marco?" Angie and Rafael turned around at the sound of Star's voice to see the smiling blonde princess leaning through the tent flap. "Mind if I come in?" she added once she was surehe wasn't getting berated and her presence might make things worse for him.

"Buenas noches, Star, it is so good to see you!" greeted Rafael as he pulled her into a tight hug.

"Hi, Mr. Diaz!"

"Hello, Star," beamed Angie, giving the girl a quick hug of her own once her husband had released her. Nudging him, she made towards the exit. "We'll give you two a few minutes before we take Marco home to rest. It's been a long day for him as I'm sure you know. Also, don't be such a stranger! It's been almost a week since we last had you over for dinner."

They had discussed this very possibility on the way over to the medic tent and Angie had reluctantly agreed to Rafael's idea to, "Give Marco a chance to tell Star how he really felt." Which, when she pressed for details, had turned out to mean that her husband believed Marco might get a bit clarity on his current relationship conundrum if he was able to speak with Star with his inhibitions lowered. As ideas went, it certainly wasn't one of her husband's best; but both she and Rafael agreed that Star was by far the better fit for their son and she was willing to entertain any idea if it helped Marco figure that out as well.

"Thanks, Mrs. Diaz! I'll be over next week for sure!" Star was certain Angie was purposefully leaving out her late-night sleepover of only a few days before but was thankful for the discretion anyways. When both of his parents had left, Star rushed over to the noticeably wobbly teen and threw her arms around him in a crushing hug.

"Heya, Shtar," he slurred, returning her hug enthusiastically until she finally pulled away grinning and red-faced at the overlong hug from him. "Didja shee everything? I can't believe I shotted Manfred in the butt, I was so embarrashed."

Giggling at his poor pronunciation, she nodded. "Hey, Manfred's been putting a damper on my fun for years, Marco, don't feel too bad. Besides, it wasn't deep and he was out of the medical tent in like twenty minutes. But pegasus feathers was it funny! I think I even heard mom chuckle."

"Thas good, thas good," he said, nodding so hard his entire body moved with him. "But the jousht! I was all like 'take thish lance you!' and Florence was all like 'yew can't hit me, pewny humanblah blah blah,' and then I did!"

Laughing, she pulled the boy in for another hug. Most of the time she'd had to deal with drunk friends like Pony Head or even Penelope back when the two were on speaking terms, she felt the experience was annoying and exhausting. But with Marco, she found his slurring and generally wonder-filled tone adorable. Maybe it was just because she thought he was so damn cute, but right now she couldn't stop smiling and his arms around her back felt like heaven. "Marco, I was in the stands; I saw everything," she said to him before pulling her head back and staring into his slightly unfocused chocolate brown eyes. 'Oh corn, I wish it was Thursday…' she groaned internally as she fought the urge to lean forward just that last few inches and press her pink lips against his. 'Maybe just a quick one wouldn't hurt…' she thought, thinking that even if they agreed to limit their special time together to only one night, a couple right now wouldn't be a big deal.

"Youuuu wanna kish me, doncha?" he whispered as he read the longing expression that had suddenly appeared on her face. Drunkenly, he thought back to earlier that afternoon and the promise he'd made to himself to put a damper on his indiscretions with Star while he was with Penelope. 'Gotta tell her we can't kiss anymore for a while,' he thought through the alcohol-induced haze in his mind. "Shtar, we shoul-" But his words were interrupted as the rustling of tent flaps caused Star to jump back from him and straighten her gown.

"Hey dudes," said Jackie as she walked in with Janna close on her heels. Star swallowed hard as she watched Jackie's eyes shift back and forth between an awkward-looking Marco and herself while Janna merely threw a half-hearted wave.

"Hey Jackie! I wash worried about yew," said Marco as he made to stand up and promptly tripped to land face down on the grass that served as the tent's floor. After several moments of quiet giggling, he rolled onto his back, a new red mark on his forehead and grin plastered between his cheeks.

"Man you are plastered, aren't you Diaz," chuckled Janna as she watched her friends help a wobbly Marco back to his feet.

"Party animal, I love it!" added Jackie as she went for a high five with Marco that took three tries to finally connect.

Just then, an angry-sounding buzz emitted from Star's compact, and a quick check confirmed that her mother was already demanding her return. "Guys, I need to get back to the stands for Mom's closing ceremony of the day's events. Can you two make sure Marco gets home okay with his parents?" she asked as she dipped in for another quick hug.

"It may cost Diaz here a small service fee, but sure thing," smirked Janna, as she pulled a five-dollar bill out of a wallet Star strongly suspected was Marco's.

"I'll text tonight" she whispered into his ear and felt him nod against her shoulder before she quickly hurried towards the exit and her likely annoyed mother.

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

Consciousness came slowly to Marco in the early hours of the still pitch-black day. Beginning as a faint red glow that seemed to permeate his eyelids, he did his best to ignore it as he rolled over in bed to try and drop back off to sleep despite his throbbing headache. But it was no good and he couldn't seem to find an escape from the glow that was leaking through his eyelids. Even pulling a pillow over his head didn't accomplish anything, for it seemed like the crimson light was coming from everywhere as the glow shining against the thin skin of his eyelids persisted. Levering open an eye, he pulled the pillow off of his head and stared in amazement at the sight of his room bathed in blood-red light. It suffused the very air around him and he sat up not in a panic, but in an almost serene calm before standing from the bed and walking to the window.

The sight he saw when he looked up took his breath away. The moon hung in the sky, an enormous, carmine orb easily twice the size it should have normally been. "Wow…" he whispered to himself, overawed by the vision in front of him. Behind, a familiar giggle made him turn around to see Star standing barefoot in his room. She was wearing a loose gown made of white silk that caught the light as it shifted in an ethereal breeze, and while her eyes were obscured by her hanging bangs, he could feel the intensity of her gaze on him. "Star?" he asked, confused as to what she would be doing here so late at night, and in an outfit he was certain she didn't own. She didn't respond to his question, seeming to not hear him as she watched him silently.

"Star?" he asked again, this time stepping closer to her and reaching out to grasp her shoulder. He was startled then when the floor seemed to drop out from under him and he tumbled into darkness. Falling, Marco could hear his racing heart pounding in his ear better than his own screaming voice as he reached out, desperate for any handhold or way to break his fall. Instead, his hands only grasped empty rushing air as he continued to turn head over heels in the complete blackness.

"Oof" He felt himself slam into something that seemingly stretched as it caught him and cradled his fall. It was a hard blow that threatened to knock the wind out of him, but he managed to hold on as whatever had arrested his fall bounced back. Strangely though, he didn't fly off whatever he had landed on like a trampoline but instead seemed to stick to its surface like he'd been glued there. Gritting his teeth, he kept his eyes shut as he fought the rising nausea in his stomach at the wild oscillations rocking his body until he finally came to a rest.

Chancing a quick glance, Marco felt his stomach clench in cold terror. It seemed his eyes had adjusted to the low light levels of his surroundings, or there was simply just a bit more illumination down here, but what he saw made him almost wish he hadn't. A spider web. A giant, fifty-foot wide spider web he just so happened to be stuck to was what had broken his fall. Struggling, he tried to pull himself free from the sticky embrace of the web but found that he was stuck fast.

'Keep calm and think, Marco,' he told himself as he attempted to lay as still as possible despite the rising panic in his chest. He had nothing on him that might help him escape, nothing he could use to cut the web he was stuck to. He was just wearing his striped pajamas and that would be no- He sniffed, and instinctively the panic in him ratcheted higher as the metallic tang of blood tickled his nose. But there was something else there, some other scent mixed in with the coppery scent that was familiar to him… 'Cinnamon!' The realization snapped his eyes open and he tried to turn his head as much as possible to see if he could spot Penelope somewhere nearby.

"Penny! Penny are you out there can you hear me?!" he shouted, struggling hard to pull a hand free.

His answer was a chittering, rasping sound that made every hair on his body stand up in icy dread. He could feel slight vibrations through the web as something approached and he closed his eyes as whatever it was got closer and closer until he could feel it right next to him. "Penny are you out there?!" he called again, still refusing to open his eyes and face whatever horror was currently hovering over him

"I'm right here, Marco…" came the clicking, but still recognizable voice of his girlfriend just as a spiky, hand caressed his face.

Bone-chilling cold seeped from her touch and froze the blood in his veins as her icy hand dragged slowly, almost lovingly down his chest. In moments he was shivering uncontrollably, his body losing feeling as it lost ground to the killing rime. It continued to envelop him until he found his entire body going numb and a yawning darkness swallowed all thought. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find himself then not in tangled, web-cloaked darkness, but in a quiet forest that stood on the base of a mountain, he didn't recognize.

"You look cold, Marco," a soft voice offered from behind him, drawing his attention from the three-mooned night sky to the beckoning warmth that pressed against his back. "Why don't you come and have a seat, dear?" Star asked, sitting beside a quietly popping fire whose flames licked hungrily at the birch logs at its base. She had apparently changed out of her nightgown and was wearing her old armor, but her hat was more than a little wild, what with the branches and feathers sticking out the side. It covered her eyes from view, but he didn't mind; he knew she always wore it when she was out exploring with him.

Transient embers lazily drifted his way, and every time one of the glowing specks of dust touched his skin, he felt the cold immediately retreat from his bones. Even the darkness of the woods around them gave way to the light and warmth of the humble fire. The effect was calming, and despite the danger he felt gripping his heart, Marco complied. He inched closer and took a seat on a log that threatened to roll out from under him until he readjusted his weight. "I… I got lost…" he murmured, though he was happy just to have a chance to rest. He felt like he had been running for weeks.

"It would seem that you still are," Star chuckled, her usual posh accent carving its way through Marco's remaining anxiety to soothe his troubled mind. "Now how do you intend to remedy that, young man? Fighting the tide as you've always done, or by submitting to the waves and letting them carry you to shore?"

Marco knew what Star was talking about, she being the daughter of a more-than-reputable sea captain, but still, he felt he had to ask. "How do I know the shore is what I want? What if I prefer the sea? And how do I know if I'm making the right choice?"

Suddenly, the flames bloomed a deep, wine red before fanning out, enveloping the clearing in long, brilliant petals of light. But it didn't burn him; the fires simply enhanced the soft, nurturing sense of comfort and healing that the embers had given. And as the flaming petals arched, Star looked up, her beautiful lavender eyes reflecting all of their glory above her captivating, thin smile and spade cheek marks. "Well that's easy, Marco," she answered confidently, "you won't. No one ever does. You'll just have to wait, and see."

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

"Anddd?" asked Reynard, hungry for more details as he stood with Marco and the other competitors waiting for their turn in the event.

"I don't know, I woke up in a cold sweat before I opened my eyes," he shrugged as his friend paced back and forth impatiently. "I just went downstairs, made some tea to calm my nerves, and took some aspirin before going back to bed."

"Marco Diaz, you are a worse tease than Penelope's cousin Lily…" grumbled Reynard as he watched the teen slug down the rest of his water bottle. "Still feeling unwell from your little…overindulgence yesterday?"

"Nah, I drank about four glasses of water last night and my parents made sure I got a couple of aspirin in me. Whatever that didn't take care of, the chilaquiles I had this morning finished off," said Marco as he watched River lift the end of an unloaded wagon so easily he actually flipped it completely over. Squinting, Marco saw the king mumbling angrily to himself as he waited for the next object to lift. He had heard from Reynard that River had accidentally choked on his ale at the last second, allowing a triumphant Lady Whosits to claim victory. And from what he could see, the king wasn't taking his loss very well at all.

Letting his gaze wander from the king for a moment, Marco smiled when he saw Star cheering for her dad, only pausing to flash him a dazzling smile and a thumbs up. Returning the gesture, he glanced quickly at Penelope, who seemed to be too engrossed in a conversation with her father to notice him waving at her. 'Hrm, no Jackie,' he noted to himself as he spotted the empty seat next to his girlfriend. She was probably with Janna who coincidentally, hadn't shown up yet either. He wasn't surprised to not see Janna as she tended to keep to her own schedule, but to not see Jackie here during his tournament to cheer him on was concerning.

He remembered how after he'd sobered up a bit, Jackie had told him about her close run-in with the demon on the night of the ball. She'd told him how she had basically spent a tense sleepless night at one of the all-night diners in town and only chanced a quick trip back to her house to get changed before spending the day skating around town and the park until finally returning to the castle the previous night. In any event, he really wished she was here now so at least he would know she was okay.

"And King River has just set the new kingdom record for the test of strength. Truly a giant among mewmans." Parcival's dry, sarcastic sounding voice snapped him out of his nascent Marco moment. "Will our beloved king's record stand against Marco Diaz's legendary strength? In just a short moment, we shall see." Laughter from the crowd rang out as Marco walked out onto the field and he felt particularly small as he squared up to the back of a wooden wagon.

'How is this fair at all?' he thought as he eyed the wagon in front of him that probably weighed at least 400 pounds. Wooden planks stuck out from underneath with iron handles bolted to them where he could grab and attempt to lift the back. Squatting down, he gripped the handles and waited for the official to raise the flag. When he did, Marco squeezed as hard as he could and pushed with everything he had to get the wheels of the wagon off the ground.

Nothing Happened. The cart didn't budge even a fraction of an inch as he strained with the effort of getting the heavy wood and iron cart off the ground. Panting now as he worked and pulled at the handles, he knew he wasn't going to get it to budge. In fact, the only evidence he was even pulling at all was a slight creaking coming from the posts that he was tugging on.

"Oooh, and it looks like Mr. Diaz has yet again been found wanting in this competition," announced a snide-sounding Parcival. Jeers and laughter rang out once more as Marco walked back dejectedly towards a sympathetic looking Reynard.

"Well that went about as well as I figured it would…" he sighed, before sitting down on a nearby bench.

"Think of it this way, Marco," laughed Reynard, looking supremely unconcerned. "River has never once lost a contest of strength in my memory. Not at a tournament, not at a festival, not even against a bear. Yes, a literal bear," he added when Marco looked up at him, a mixture of confusion and disbelief on his face.

"Okay I'm totally going to need to hear that story now."

"It was five years ago at my grandmother Etheria's annual garden party. A more stuffy and uptight affair you'd be hard-pressed to find on Mewni. Queen Moon attended, as Etheria is the queen's maternal aunt by blood, and she just so happened to make the spectacularly entertaining mistake of also allowing River and Star to accompany her. I, for one, was delighted to have my favorite cousin there to keep things from getting too…boring. But Etheria was her usual snobbish self and felt that River's presence was an 'intolerable affront to common decency.' Well, words were exchanged and the king stormed off into the woods next to my grandmother's castle."

Chuckling, Marco couldn't help but imagine River arguing with a crowd of blue-blooded nobles about proper tea etiquette before storming off into the woods. "So then what happened?" He was dying to see where the bear came into this story.

"Well," chuckled Reynard, pausing to compose himself as an ear to ear grin grew on his face. "The next thing anyone knew, River came storming back into the party on the back of a great brown bear the size of one of your automobiles. You can well imagine that my grandmother was furious and called him all manner of names: barbarian, ruffian, uncivilized brute. The standard array of slander she likes to use against anyone she sees as less than her. Well all her griping and the delectable corn and cucumber sandwiches must have driven the great beast into a frenzy; as before anyone knew it, the appetizer table was in splinters and the bear was feasting on petit fours!"

Marco couldn't contain his raucous laughter as he struggled to speak. "Alright, alright, what happened next?" he managed to breathe out between fits of laughter.

"Well, River marched right up to the bear and demanded that the beast return to the forest. Naturally when that didn't work, because bears don't speak our language, things got a bit…heated."

Knowing River, even for as little time as he had, Marco had a fairly good idea of what "heated" meant. But still, he couldn't help himself from uttering an inquiring, "How so?"

"It went about as well as yelling at a bear can go, I suspect. It took a swipe at him and knocked him through three sets of tables and chairs. I, in my impetuous and foolish youth, decided to assist the king and managed to get it's attention by throwing several large roast game birds at him."

"Wait, wait, wait." Marco had managed to get his laughter under control and was now looking concernedly at his friend. "You actually pissed off a car-sized bear on purpose? That can't have gone well…"

"It very nearly didn't. But before the bear could finish me off, River leapt on its back and spent the next ten minutes in a life or death wrestling match that managed to destroy half the garden furniture before he emerged victorious and the bear scarpered off into the woods."

Glancing over, Marco watched as King River blew a kiss to the Queen and saw to his mild surprise that Moon was actually blushing. It was sweet to see the two reigning Butterfly monarchs still so in love after a couple of decades of guiding their kingdom through thick and thin. 'I could go for a relationship like that,' he mused to himself as he thought about his currently complicated romantic situation. It was true that he and Penelope had promised each other they'd both try harder. But try as he might, he just couldn't picture having the sort of dynamic River and Moon had with her.

She was too concerned with appearances, too used to the trappings of wealth and privilege to have genuine, unprompted compassion for people of a lesser station. Marco hated himself for even thinking these things, but he had a nagging feeling that in those moments where Penelope had said and done things that had raised serious red flags in his mind, she was revealing an ugly side of her personality he wasn't sure she could ever truly change. 'Maybe that's why you had that dream about her last night,' whispered a quiet voice in his mind and he had to push away the horrible creeping feeling of dread that rose up his spine. No, he suspected that if he and Penelope managed to work out their differences, he may just have to learn to live with her more unpleasant quirks.

'But Star on the other hand…' He couldn't deny his strong attraction to her, and though she had a talent for causing unintended mischief with her magic and had only a tentative grasp on Earth's customs, he knew that when he was with her he was at his happiest. Star always made him feel good enough and she never judged someone by their appearance, only on their words and actions. Something inside of him knew that if he ended up with his best friend as a romantic partner, he just might find something even sweeter than what River and Moon shared.

Shaking his head, he had to struggle to push those blissful thoughts out of his mind's eye. Star may have felt like home to him, but his own morals and sense of honor compelled him to give Penelope the chance she deserved. He had made his choice and his girlfriend didn't deserve a boyfriend who wouldn't put his all into making their relationship work.

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

"And with King River Butterfly easily claiming victory in the test of strength, that only leaves the unarmed melee to crown our sixth champion to meet in the contest to determine the champion of champions!"

"WOO! Go Papa!" yelled Star as she shouted her encouragement from the royal box.

"Your dad is like…crazy strong," said Tom, his face looking even wanner than his usual pale-lilac complexion.

"Yeah, the Johansen clan are the strongest mewmans on Mewni. Dad says it's because of all the meat they eat," shrugged Star.

"Glad he's never been mad at me, then…" Tom laughed nervously as he watched River accept a mug of ale from a servant before downing it in one go.

"That you know of…" muttered Star under her breath. In truth, she'd had to stop her father on two occasions from snapping the horns off of Tom's head. Once after a particularly nasty fight where he'd gotten so mad, he left her in a dimension without any scissors to get home, and another when he'd said some unflattering things about Queen Moon's policies after a meeting with the other monarchs early on in the war against the monsters.

"So you really think Marco is going to win the next event? I mean he's just a lowl-he's just human, I mean," said Tom, correcting himself midway through as a frown momentarily creased his girlfriend's face.

"Just watch, Tom. If Marco doesn't impress you, I'll let you pick our next two dates."

The confident smile was back now, and feeling like he didn't have anything to lose he readily agreed. "Sure, Starship, you're on. Now dazzle me, Marco."

Down on the tourney grounds, the aforementioned teen was just beginning his stretches and practicing a few katas when he spotted Janna and Jackie running over. "Sorry I'm late, Jackie needed to stop at your house and grab something, and then we went to lunch before coming. It seemed like none of you felt like telling me that the demon almost killed Jackie the other night… Thanks for that by the way," said Janna as she shot them both annoyed looks.

"Hey dude," waved Jackie as she tossed a bag to him.

"Sorry, Janna. Things have just been so crazy the last couple of days and I only just found out myself last night." Taking a second to open the bag, he grinned when he saw his neatly folded karate gi. Even better though, was that it was his favorite red one he wore in tournaments. "Jackie this is awesome! Thank you so much for bringing this."

"I figured I've never seen you fight in a tournament without it, so why start now," she shrugged.

"Waittt, my parents are in the stands and the house is locked. How did you…" but his words died as Janna held up a key and smirked. "Stunning invasions of privacy aside," he deadpanned, "thanks for bringing this, I really appreciate it."

"Yeah yeah, we can talk about thatlater when you buy me some pizza to make up for keeping me in the dark about Jackie. But right now you have some pompous mewman ass to kick."

"Guys, I gotta run and meet Penelope in the stands," said Jackie as she stepped in for a quick hug. "Kick some butt, Marco! Remember, no fear!" she called back as she jogged towards the royal box.

Fifteen minutes later, Marco was staring down 15 other potential opponents as Parcival droned on in the background about the rules. Mentally he replayed what he needed to know to win in his head. 'So I have three ways to win: knock someone unconscious, have them say they yield, and or knock them to the ground twice.' It wasn't terribly different from the normal karate tournament rules he was used to already, but without referees for each match and with the added chaos of a 16 man battle royale.

"Begin!" shouted Parcival as the heralds blew their horns.

Quickly, the field of knights began to pair off, circling each other as they sized up their opponents. Marco found himself squaring off against his old foe Sir Florent who was smiling as he cracked his knuckles. "You may have knocked me off my horse in the joust, but I came in second last tournament in the unarmed melee, so prepare for a thrashing."

Marco watched as Florent sprinted at him with a cocked fist. He knew the knight's wounded pride wouldn't let him go easy and so he had abandoned all caution in order to focus solely on offense. 'Big mistake,' he thought as he ducked under Florent's calloused fist before promptly using the larger man's momentum to hip toss him bodily to the dusty ground. Growling, he scrambled to his feet and brushed the dirt off his clothes. "So the boy can joust and fight… No wonder the Queen chose you to guide her daughter."

Readying himself, he watched as Florent came at him again, though this time slower and more cautiously than before. Dropping into a ready position, he tensed as the taller man closed the distance before throwing a powerful straight punch that would have caught Marco in the chin had he not crouched as he threw his arm up to block. The move deflected Florent's punch above his head and he capitalized by firing two lightning-quick punches of his own directly into the mewman's solar plexus. The effect was instantaneous and Florent bent double at the explosion of pain in his midsection.

It was a calculated move and Marco knew it was over the instant the knight bent forward, helpless for an instant as he fought to breathe. Springing forward and into the air, he brought his right knee up to crash into Florent's forehead with the sickening *Thunk* of bone on bone. Landing lightly, Marco watched as Florent toppled to the ground like a marionette with its strings cut to lay in an undignified heap.

"Sorry about that!" he said, as he knelt quickly to check Florent's pulse, satisfied that he didn't do any critical damage.

"And it looks like the young and inexperienced Marco Diaz has found his footing after all as he draws first blood in the unarmed melee; I am truly stunned,'' announced Parcival, and Marco was heartened to hear significantly more cheers than laughter and boos. He could even hear Star shouting a gleeful, "Way to go, Marco!" over the commotion.

A shadow loomed over him and he turned around just in time to catch a boot from an angry-looking Higgs in the chest. Rolling with the hit, he spang back to his feet as the ginger girl narrowed her eyes at him. "I'm gonna beat you so hard, you're gonna wish you never even entered this tournament, Nerd!"

Circling each other, Marco cautiously moved in. He'd never seen her fight but assumed her style was similar to the other knights: a mix of street fighting tactics and boxing that if he didn't respect, would find him on the ground for his second fall and disqualification. Dodging several strong punches, he ducked low under a wild haymaker and caught her in the ribs with a strong side kick that made her grunt in pain and stagger back out of range, a grimace on her face.

"What's the matter, Higgs… Can't hit me? C'mon, put your money where your mouth is…or are you just all talk?" he taunted. He knew it was wrong and not what he'd been taught in Sensei Brantley's dojo, but her cheap shot had made him mad. And after two days of jeering and booing from most of the crowd alongside Parcival's unending criticism, he'd had enough. Honor and morals aside, It was time to show everyone what he was really made of.

Shouting with anger, Higgs charged and threw another haymaker aimed at his temple which he deflected with his forearm before firing another side kick towards her exposed ribs. Expecting this, however, she lowered her arm and hunched to the side, blocking the strong kick. She was pleased with herself for anticipating his move and countering it so easily; so much so, that the smile was still on her face when the top of Marco's other foot collided with the side of her head and sent her sprawling to the dirt.

"Not bad for a nerd, am I?" he shouted as he sprinted past her while Parcival announced her second and final fall.

Ahead of him, two knights were blocking his path, both of them seemingly focused on taking him out of the competition instead on their own battle. Not even pausing, Marco dropped back into his ready stance as the first charged him in a blind rage. They must have not been paying attention to both of his earlier fights because he dropped the first one with a lightning-fast combo of punches and knees before turning and seeing the hesitation in the eyes of the second. 'He's afraid,' noted Marco as he slowed to a stop and cocked his head.

"Do you need a second? I can wait if you need a breather or want to rethink what you're about to do," he asked, smirking when he saw a vein stand off the man's temple. "Angry fighters are careless fighters," his sensei had always instructed and this man proved no different as he let Marco's needling goad him into an ill-planned headlong rush. Cocking his leg, he clocked the knight's steps in his head as he watched the range between them rush towards zero. 'Now!' his mind screamed, and with timing born of over a decade of martial arts training, he whipped his heel around in an arcing hook kick that took the mewman in the temple and sent him ragdolling to the dirt in an unconscious sprawl.

There were only two other competitors now and Marco watched as River and Merrimack traded thunderous blows, each one grunting as their fists made contact with each other. It sounded an awful lot like that scene in that old boxing movie he'd watched with his dad years ago where the main character was in a meat cooler punching sides of beef. Taking the moment to catch his breath, he listened as the crowd cheered wildly and Parcival gave the blow by blow commentary, sounding particularly gleeful whenever the black-clad Merrimack landed a good blow.

It happened so fast Marco couldn't even fully comprehend what he had seen. One second, River was laughing as he gleefully exchanged punches with Merrimack, and the next; he was shaking his head, his butt firmly on the ground as the crowd drew in a collective gasp at their king's defeat. Piecing it together in his head over the next few seconds, he thought he saw a piece of metal down by Merrimack's boot glinting in the light, but he couldn't be sure.

"And a tough break for King River as he is knocked down for his second and final time by Sir Merrimack. That only leaves Marco Diaz to face his wrath, and I think we all know what happened last time these two faced off in combat," laughed Parcival, though this time Marco noticed, his smugness didn't garner nearly as many jeering shouts and derisive laughter from the mewman crowd.

"Oh C'MON! He just destroyed four knights in about three minutes! Give the guy some damn credit!" complained Tom as he glared at Parcival up in the announcer's tower. Beside him, Star couldn't help but smile to herself. She wasn't entirely sure where this sudden change in attitude about her best friend had come from, but she certainly appreciated it considering the unbearable tension of the last few weeks.

"Warming up to Marco? Told ya, he was the real deal," she laughed as she watched Merrimack and Marco circling each other, each giving the other a healthy distance as they sized one another up.

"It's not like we're best friends or anything… I just appreciate that he isn't completely useless."

"Uh-huh." Star was having trouble keeping the skeptical laughter out of her voice as she watched Tom squirm. "You know, it wouldn't kill you to have another real friend here." She could never understand her boyfriend's reticence about making friends when she was constantly making them no matter where she went. She suspected that it was more due to his nature as a half-demon than an actual conscious choice. But in the three years they'd dated on and off, she had never been able to open him up to new experiences.

'Marco on the other hand…' and she indulged in a moment of happiness as she thought how much more open Marco had become in only a couple of months of knowing him. He was still naturally cautious, but his personality had become so much more open to adventure and new situations than when they had first met. It was one of the big reasons she found herself so powerfully attracted to the Earth teen. 'Well that, and those smooth abs…' whispered a sultry voice and she had to guiltily push away moonlit images of Marco in nothing but his birthday suit as they writhed together in bed only three nights ago.

Down the row of seats, however, a much darker conversation was taking place as an extremely perturbed Penelope grilled Jackie over the events of the previous evening. "So tell me again what you saw when you came in the tent?" she asked, as she leaned to the side to narrow her eyes at a laughing and cheering Star.

"Honestly, I didn't see much of anything. Janna and I walked in and I just kinda got this feeling, ya know? Like Star was acting a little bit awkward and basically ran out of the tent as soon as we got there," explained Jackie for the third time.

"I bet that slut made a move on him and you just happened to interrupt it. You know, she acts all bubbly and fun, but she's really just a scheming liar," hissed Penelope. She wanted to stand up and march over to Star and tell her what she really thought of her. To out her in front of all the other nobles as the conniving witch she knew her to be, but decorum demanded that she hold her tongue while in public. An ugly outburst here would only result in her being embarrassed in front of the other nobles.

"Dude, I know you're upset that Star and Marco are so close, but do you really think she would do that to Tom?"

"Her and Tom have been on and off for years. Honestly, I'm surprised they even bothered to get back together since he is constantly such an ass around other people."

"Well, he's pretty cute for a guy too," laughed Jackie.

"So is Marco!" whispered Penelope defensively.

"I didn't say he wasn't. I'm just saying, if Star's relationship is on the rocks maybe she's crossing the line a little with Marco to get that emotional intimacy that she can't get from Tom."

Penelope didn't say anything as she thought about her best friend's words. Something was rotten about Star and Marco's friendship and by corn, she was going to find out. After all, had Marco not just reaffirmed his commitment to her this morning? 'So if anything does happen, I know exactly who to blame…' she thought bitterly.

"Time to get crushed, little boy," growled Merrimack as he finally advanced.

Watching the knight move in cautiously, Marco readied himself in a low stance. Compared to his other opponents, Merrimack was built like a brick wall. He'd watched the man go toe to toe with River, so he certainly was not an opponent to be taken lightly. Suddenly, he threw several hard jabs that were so fast, Marco barely had time to block them. Following up, Merrimack broke into a flurry of punches; advancing forwards as he did, so that Marco had no choice but to give ground as he deflected and blocked blow after blow.

Finally jumping back, Marco shook his hands and flexed his fingers. 'He hits like a hammer,' he noted as his forearms ached from the pummeling they'd endured. But thankfully, all that punishment had not been in vain as he had seen enough of the opponent to judge the man had little to no experience with kicks. It was a fatal weakness in Marco's eyes and one he intended to exploit.

"Ready to give up, little boy?" sneered Merrimack as he stopped tobask in the cheers of the crowd.

"To a bully like you? Not a chance." Leaping forward, Marco closed the distance between them in the blink of an eye, his hands a blur as he threw punches and chops. 'I'm faster,' he noted as he listened for the occasional grunts of pain when one of his attacks snuck past Merrimack's guard. Still though, it was like hitting the side of a house for all the damage it was doing. Merrimack was showing no signs of fatigue or injury as Marco's onslaught continued and inside, he was beginning to wonder what it would take the bring the mewman down.

"Oof." Marco felt an explosion of pain as Merrimack's fist slammed into his side, just missing his solar plexus thanks to a last-minute shift. Flaring agony radiated out from where the knight's blow had nearly broken a few ribs from the feel of it. Painful as it was, it was that small movement that saved him from getting the wind knocked out of him and allowed him to spring back out of the way of the devastating haymaker that would have torn his head off had he not dodged.

"Not letting you get away that easy," growled Merrimack as once more he pressed his advantage, firing off punch after furious punch.

Things were getting dire now and Marco knew it. His forearms were ringing like a bell and the muscles there burned with fatigue as he did his best to simply dodge or deflect the Mewman's attacks, only blocking when it was absolutely necessary. If he didn't do something now, he'd be up against the fence marking the boundary of the arena and he had no doubt about the outcome of the fight if he ran out of room to mitigate the severity of Merrimack's hurricane of punches.

Falling back the last precious few feet before the fence rail doomed him, his mind raced to foment a plan. 'It has to be a kick, nothing else is strong enough,' he decided as he crouched once more and chambered a vicious kick. 'One step, two steps,' he counted in his head as Merrimack advanced. He had to lure him close for this to work, but when he'd crossed the line in the dirt Marco had mentally noted, he struck like a viper.

Exploding into movement, Marco threw an inside crescent kick with every ounce of strength and speed he could still muster. It was aimed to catch Merrimack on the cheek and either knock him out cold or at least daze him long enough for Marco to follow up with an easy sweep. But instead, the mewman had reacted faster than he had anticipated and caught Marco's leg, pinning it against his neck.

'Got him!' his mind roared in triumph as Marco effortlessly switched to his backup plan and used the leverage point of Merrimack's shoulder hold to turn his body 180 degrees and smash the mewman in the temple with a devastating heel kick. It was like shutting off the power to a rampaging machine, and at once, the giant swayed slightly before crumpling limply to the dirt as Marco fell on top of him. Exhausted, he slowly clambered to his feet as stunned silence reigned in the packed arena.

"WAY TO GO, MARCO!"

"I knew you could do it, Babe!"

Both Star and Penelope's wild cheers seemed to have broken the spell the crowd was under, and with a great roar, the gathered mewman's and their guides exploded into screams and shouts. Marco could see his parents in the stands excitedly cheering alongside a beaming Queen Moon, while just down the row Star was literally dancing in the aisle. He was even shocked to see Tom, who was smiling and clapping for him enthusiastically. "Today has been a weird day…" he muttered to himself as he raised his arm in triumph and took a short bow.

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

"Lookin good, Diaz," smirked Janna from the railing as she wolf-whistled at him. She had just stepped back after accompanying him into the arena and helping him make some very last-minute adjustments to his personal armor and couldn't resist the chance to make her favorite mark blush.

"Not the time, Janna…"

"C'mon, I saw how much ass you kicked in the unarmed melee, why are you so nervous now?" She could clearly see his normally light tan cheeks almost devoid of any color, always a sign of distress in his case.

"Janna I said not-" but Parcival's booming voice and the resultant cheers drowned out any response he had.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the final event is upon us and this year it holds more than one surprise! For the first time in tournament history, we have six competitors!" he said before pausing to let the crowd roar its approval. "Five mewmans, and a surprise showing from none other than Marco Diaz himself, the guide to our own Crown Princess Star. Oddsmakers had him at a 100 to 1 longshot to win the tournament, but nevertheless…here he is to put his chivalry and skill to the test in the final event to crown our champion of champions!"

"One would think, that perhaps given your stunning performance in the unarmed melee, that that puffed up Duke would perhaps ascribe you more credit," said Reynard from his spot next to Marco in the arena. He had the visor of his helmet open and he was scowling up at the announcer's stand where Parcival continued to drone on about the merits of everyone competing except Marco.

"I'm used to him by now," shrugged Marco, a move that garnered a wide grin from his friend.

"Now do you remember how this works?" he reminded the teen, wanting to make absolutely sure that he didn't lose in the coming contest due to a misunderstanding of the rules.

"Reynard, we went through this three times while we were getting patched up in the medic tent," said Marco, blowing out an exasperated breath. Pointing to the rosette pinned to his armor, he reiterated. "Lose your rosette and you are out, so make sure to defend it."

"Exactly," nodded Reynard before glancing across the field at a snarling Higgs. "It appears you have made a new friend today. Another female caller? Penelope won't like that…"

"Yeahhh, she's about as friendly as Rasticore, so I don't see any moonlight dinners in our near future…" Marco rolled his eyes as he glanced over at her and saw she was about one step below having flames shoot out of her eyes. He could still see the ugly remnants of the bruise his foot had left on the right side of her face, and he suspected that might have something to do with her murderous expression.

Thinking he knew exactly who his first opponent in the melee would be, he was unsurprised then when the herald's trumpet sounded and she made a beeline straight for him. This time there were no taunts, no scornful tone, simply raw aggression as she gripped her dulled longsword in both hands and swung it with singular intent. Lifting his own blade, he caught her blow and parried it to the side, only just reacting in time to dodge out of the way of her lunging grab for his rosette.

"Not gonna make it easy, are you, dork?" she growled as she sprang after him, her sword flashing as she hacked away.

"Not *ugnh* a chance," he grunted back as he blocked several more vicious slashes at his face and neck. He may have been wearing his armor and the blades were dulled, but he had no illusions of the damage even a blunted blade could cause if it struck him in the throat, or found the eye slit in his helmet.

Back and forth they battled, neither one holding an advantage for long as they each made grabs for one another's rosettes. Marco was certainly more impressed with her swordsmanship than her ability to fight unarmed as he was having some trouble creating an opening. It was a stalemate, not helped by the fact that he was continually having to steer them away from the other two fights where River and Lady Whosits were in a knockdown drag-out brawl and a graceful Reynard was running rings around an increasingly frustrated Merrimack.

*CLANG* His head rang like a bell as Higgs' sword slipped past his guard and slammed into his steel helmet. Momentarily dazed, he threw himself in a backward shoulder roll away from her to buy a moment to recover. Unfortunately, Higgs offered him no such room and pressed to close the distance between them. He'd only barely managed to get to his feet and bring his sword up in time to block her vicious side chop when an idea struck him.

Stepping back to buy once more, he waited for her to charge in again before stepping forward to catch her blade on the crossguard of his own sword. Twisting, he used his superior strength to force her sword down and away, disarming her as the sword spun off into the distance. Screaming in rage, she attempted to break contact, but his martial arts training kicked in and he instantly took her down to the dusty ground with a sweep of her unbalanced leg.

Snatching the rosette from her armor, he lifted the faceplate of his helmet and smirked. "Still think I'm unworthy?" he asked before he felt her go limp under his pin.

"This isn't over, Diaz," she hissed back at him.

"Anytime you want a rematch, I'm game. But right now, I got a tournament to win."

Leaving her to sulk out of the paddock, he felt a thrill run down his spine. 'Did I really just say that?' He was slightly shocked at his own confidence. Maybe Reynard was right; maybe he did have what it takes to win this thing. Ahead of him, he watched as Reynard ducked under a powerful, but off-balance swing from Merrimack before pummeling the black knight in the back hard enough to knock him to the ground. He watched, as shouting in triumph, Reynard reached down and pulled the rosette from under the larger mewman's frame.

Similarly, before Marco could so much as cheer on his friend, River removed all doubt about who his next opponent would be when he picked up the massive mewman woman and tossed her bodily from the arena. Stashing the rosette he'd grabbed from her before her unceremonial removal from the tournament, the king turned to face both stunned men and let out a great belly laugh before raising his visor.

Marco couldn't help but draw the comparison that if River's beard and mustache were white, he would be a dead ringer for a younger, blonder Santa, and he had to fight not to burst out into a fit of very unfortunately timed laughter. But that humor seemed to vanish as quickly as a rain puddle on a hot summer day when the king finally spoke. "Marco, my boy!" he said, stepping closer and grinning ear to ear. "Excellent to see you made it so far! I knew you wouldn't disappoint, you have the heart of a warrior!"

"Thanks, River, I did what you told me to and just…" Marco trailed off, not really sure of how to voice the gratitude that was now threatening to overwhelm him. It was easy in his experience to write the king off as a bit of a manchild. But in times like this and their conversation before the joust, River had shown a deep and abiding wisdom that resonated strongly with him.

"No need to thank me, Marco, I simply reminded you of what you already knew. Now, how about we make this interesting and the two of you try to take me down? Moonpie said it might look bad if the king won his own royal tournament, so let's give everyone a cracking good show!"

Exchanging a look with Reynard, who shrugged his lack of objection, Marco nodded. "You're on," he said as he gripped his sword harder and circled left as Reynard did the opposite. Keeping his guard raised, he waited as he watched Reynard for the signal to attack and wasn't disappointed when his temporary partner didn't wait long. Swords flashed in the late afternoon sun, coming together with a metallic clang as both River and Reynard jockeyed for position. Trading blows and parries, their swords flew at one another, occasionally finding their mark against the other's armor as Marco watched, waiting for his opening.

Finally, after nearly a minute of frenzied dueling, he saw his chance. Darting forward, he made a headlong rush to close the distance and grab the king's rosette. He was inches from reaching it when the king stepped neatly to the side, grabbing Marco by the wrist and tossing him roughly to the ground. The tug, which was so strong it might have torn ligaments in his shoulder, was thankfully mitigated somewhat by the straps holding his gauntlet to his vambraces failing. Cursing to himself as he stood up shakily, he flexed his over-stressed fingers and grimaced at the shooting pains there. 'Guess I'll have to do without,' he grumbled as he turned and rushed back towards where River was slowly but inexorably driving Reynard back against the fence.

Coming in fast, Marco ducked River's sword as he turned to fight his foe and brought his own blade crashing down against the king's forearm as the latter made to reverse and take him in the side. He must have hit a weak spot, as he was rewarded by a pained grunt from the king, who promptly repaid the blow with a boot to his chest which sent him flying backward. Cheers erupted all around as River, now free to fully focus on Reynard for several uninterrupted seconds, landed multiple hits in quick succession that threatened to end the fight there and then.

Reeling, Reynard tried to give ground as best as he could under the king's unceasing onslaught. It seemed like River was a stranger to things like fatigue, and he felt his own prodigious speed slowing as burning muscles sapped his swiftness. Desperate for something that could turn the fight in their favor, he wracked his brain as he watched Marco pick himself up once more from the dusty ground and determinedly make his way back to the rolling melee. 'Is he even mewman?' he asked himself as another speeding swing nearly tore the longsword from his grip when he moved to parry.

'That's it!' screamed his unconscious mind. The errant thought had jarred a recent memory of something he'd told Marco that morning and he jumped back out of range to buy him the seconds he needed. "Marco! Remember the bear!" he shouted, staring pointedly at the teen until he read the dawning comprehension there. 'Good he understands,' he noted before rushing forward and pouring everything he had in an all-out assault on the king. He had to keep him distracted and give Marco a chance to get close without being noticed.

For his part, Marco waited, knowing that this was likely their last chance to claim victory. Everything hinged on his ability to close the gap between them unnoticed, and so he hung back, letting Reynard's all-out assault occupy all of the king's attention. Picking his moment, he sprinted in, not even bothering to raise his sword. Victory would be determined by how the next few seconds went and his sword would only get in the way. Sprinting forward, he prayed that the king wouldn't hear the sound his armor was making and he mentally cursed when he saw the king turn in alarm. 'Too late,' he thought triumphantly, as he was already in the air when River attempted to twist out of the way. Grunting with the effort, Marco snaked one arm around the king's tree trunk-like neck and the other around his sword arm.

"Now!" he shouted, straining against the River's massively powerful arms.

Not missing a beat, Reynard dashed forward. He ducked the king's clumsy attempt to punch him with his unencumbered hand before grabbing the pastel pink and blue rosette and tearing it off the king's breastplate. Instantly, all the fight drained out of River and where before there had been steely focused silence, now there was gleeful laughter as a stunned sounding Parcival announced the king's elimination from the tournament.

"Excellent work!" he chortled, tipping up his visor as the crowd cheered wildly behind him. "I knew the two of you would be capable opponents, but consider this old bear impressed."

"T-Thanks, River," Marco and Reynard both managed to say before he beamed at both of them and made to leave.

Marco watched the king step out of the arena as the crowd continued to cheer and quickly, he met his friend's eyes. Reynard looked shocked, a feeling he was experiencing himself. Shocked that their plan had worked so flawlessly against a foe he was all but certain would wipe the floor with both of them. But also shocked that he'd even offered to be so chivalrous… 'Probably the reason they love him so much,' he thought, as the crowd broke into chanting his name over and over while he waved to them.

"Are you ready, Marco?"

Reynard's sudden question snapped him out of his thoughts and he turned away from the waving king and adoring crowd to see his friend smiling as he stretched out the kinks in his shoulders. He'd never seen Reynard looking prouder in his life, a fact that was touching, even if they had had to come to blows to determine the tournament's champion. After all, it had only been through his friendship, that Marco had even taken his first step into this amazing world of princesses, magic, and monsters. 'I owe Reynard more than I can ever repay,' he told himself, and for a moment struggled to keep his face light and jovial. Taking a few practice swings to buy himself a moment for composure, Marco dropped back into a guard position and nodded. "No hard feelings no matter who wins?" he asked, knowing that their bond made that question rhetorical, but figuring it wouldn't hurt to ask.

"Never, Marco. Now let's give them one hell of a show," answered Reynard as he dropped into his own guard.

Striding carefully forward, Marco blocked out the roar of the crowd as their attention turned back to the two remaining competitors. He'd dueled his friend and mentor hundreds of times over the last two years in their lessons and was acutely aware of his skill with a longsword. He wasn't fooled then when Reynard feinted, turning an overhead chop into a scything sideways blow that he deftly parried before lunging forward with a rising swing of his own.

Blow after blow, lunge followed by riposte; they clashed. Swords slid against one another with metallic rasps as both combatants probed for openings. Fighting hard, Marco was surprised at himself for holding off the much more experienced Reynard, only giving ground when absolutely necessary. Dodging under another sideways chop that would have slammed into his steel helmet, he seized his chance and shoulder charged, crashing into Reynard and driving him back. Reaching, he scrabbled at the rosette pinned to his opponent's steel breastplate, while doing his best to fend off the crashing pommel that Reynard was driving into his helmet.

*Gasp* Marco sucked in a breath through gritted teeth as white-hot pain lanced through his un-gauntleted hand. A clatter of steel sounded as his fingers reflexively opened at the pain, dropping his sword as he fell back out of melee range. Glancing down he could see a deep, ragged gash along the back of his hand where dark crimson blood was running freely down his knuckles to drip from his fingers. 'Can still move my fingers, so that's a good sign,' he noted as he wiggled one digit after another, grimacing as the motion sent flares of burning agony radiating up his arm.

"Marco, I am so sorry. I didn't mean-" began Reynard, starting forward with a placative hand up, but he was interrupted by a smug sounding Parcival. "And it looks like our own Reynard Butterfly has managed to disarm Marco Diaz with a masterful stroke. This is certainly the end for him, and it would seem as all that is left is to hand his rosette over so we can crown our new champion!"

Not saying a word, he held up his bloody hand for Reynard to hold while he reached down and tore at the leather straps holding some of the rigid armor plates on with his other. After several moments of frenzied tugging and twisting, he finally managed to pry off about 15 pounds of steel, only leaving his armored steel boots on. 'I didn't come this far to lose,' he told himself, sparing a glance into the stands to where Penelope and Star both sat staring in rapt attention at him. It seemed like they, the queen, and his parents were the only ones who had noticed that Marco wasn't giving up as the mewman's around them cheered for Reynard.

"What is he doing?" asked Tom, when he'd noticed his girlfriend leaning forward eagerly in her chair and saw Marco stripping pieces of armor off of himself.

"Winning this thing," came her distracted reply as she leaned far out over the railing of the royal box. "You can do it, Marco!" she shouted over the rapidly turning crowd as the rest of them noticed that this battle wasn't yet over.

Stepping forward, Marco smiled at Star's words. He had heard her clearly over the crowd during both days, and her unwavering faith in him had sustained him like a campfire's warmth in a blizzard of cold doubt. He'd have to thank her for the cheerleading later, but right now he had a rosette to grab. Closing the gap, he watched Reynard ready his sword hesitantly at his unarmed approach. He was clearly confused, but Marco was thankful he was just going with it rather than calling for a stoppage due to the wound on his hand.

Focusing his remaining energy, he tensed as Reynard struck, stepping to the side of a downward chop, and leaping back away from the followup swing that would have taken him in the hip had he not dodged. He had to get very close for the move he had in mind to work, and he spent several agonizingly long seconds dodging and weaving under his friend's sword swings as he gradually closed the gap. 'Step, duck, step, dodge,' he chanted in his head as he focused every ounce of his martial arts training to keep the speeding longsword from striking him as he continued to press. It was a case of 2 steps forward, one step back until finally, his opening came.

It was a heavy two-handed swing, speeding in from the side to catch Marco in the ribs. Bending back like a reed in the wind, he let the blade whizz by, inches from his chest as he fell into a slight crouch. Before Reynard could react to bring his sword back to block, Marco had exploded upward, his body arcing gracefully in a tight backflip that brought his armored foot up to drive like a hammer into the mewman's chin. He could feel the strain in the tendons of his foot as Reynard's head snapped back and he toppled over like a felled tree.

Landing lightly, Marco immediately rushed over to where he was sprawled, arms akimbo and unmoving. All around him the crowd was screaming and shouting, stomping their feet in appreciation of the epic battle they'd just been privileged enough to witness. Pushing out the noise of the crowd, he tipped up Reynard's visor and was met with unfocused eyes and a blood-stained grin from the mewman as fought his way back to consciousness. "I believe…this is yours…Marco," he finally managed to say as he tore the rosette from his breastplate with shaky hands before pressing it into his own.

"You alright? How many fingers am I holding up?" said Marco, holding up three fingers and hoping the obvious concussion he'd given his friend wasn't too serious. He could spare a thought about accolades and honor later, first, he had to make sure one of his best friends was alright.

"Three, and there's nothing wrong with me that nurse Rose can't cure," he half-chuckled, half-groaned before spitting out a mouthful of blood. "Bit my cheek quite severely when you kicked me," he added, reading the concerned look on Marco's face. "Excellent work on that kick, by the way; you caught me completely by surprise."

"Thanks, it just kind of came to me in the heat of the moment," said Marco hoping his face didn't betray what a desperation move that kick had actually been.

"Marco, could I trouble you to help me to my feet? I wish to help introduce the crowd to their new champion."

"Uh, shouldn't we wait for the medics?"

"You speak as if I'm mortally wounded," Reynard chuckled again before reaching out his hand and giving his friend an imploring look.

Knowing he'd lost the argument, Marco shook his head and grabbed his friend's hand. Thankfully, it turned out that Reynard's injuries weren't as severe as he had originally feared and the viscount only needed a minor amount of help, mostly to keep himself from wobbling too badly on his feet. When they'd finally stood, however, Reynard raised Marco's hand high and swept his other arm towards the spectators. "Ladies and gentlemen, I give you our new champion!" he shouted as once more, the crowd exploded into wild cheers and adulation.

O - O - O - O - O - O - O

Twenty minutes later, Marco shifted uncomfortably as he faced the Butterfly royal family and his parents in the royal box. After a quick patching up at the medic tent that saw his hand slathered in some kind of stinging, orange unguent, he had returned to the tournament field and listened to the queen congratulate him to wild cheering. It had been heartening at first to see the assembled mewmans cheering for him, but now he was starting to feel uncomfortable as Manfred brought out his prize.

It had taken two large servants to carry the ornate box out, and when they'd tipped up the lid, he had felt a thrill run through him at the pile of precious stones and gold coins filling it to the brim. 'I guess I don't have to worry about paying for college,' he mused before a sobering thought struck him like a thunderbolt. Did he even still want to go to college? The answer to that question, which had always seemed like a foregone conclusion until only a few months ago, seemed much less certain to him now. What if his relationship with Penelope panned out? 'Or Star,' his brain unhelpfully added. Being seriously involved with either of them would likely limit his options as far as college was concerned. In fact, he suspected he might be attending a different sort of schooling; the kind where he was taught how to be a king.

Pushing that daunting thought out of his head, he straightened up and smiled as he saw Penelope approaching him with a velvet pillow, on top of which rested a crown of golden laurels. She was smiling ear to ear at him and he vaguely remembered her mentioning that she'd asked Queen Moon to be allowed to bring out the laurels if Marco managed to win the tournament; an eventuality he thought was far fetched to say the least at the time.

"Congratulations, babe. I'm so proud of you," she said quietly as she placed the crown on his head. She followed up with a chaste kiss on the cheek, a move the crowd seemed to approve of as they cheered wildly.

"Thanks, Penny," he grinned, the spot where her lips had just touched burning pleasantly. "I honestly don't know how I won this thing now that I look back on it, but I'm just glad I didn't make a fool of myself."

"You won this thing because you're gallant, brave, and a seriously good fighter, Marco," said Penelope before dropping her voice to a sultry whisper. "And tonight, I plan on giving you another, more…special reward."

Goosebumps broke out all along his arms as he imagined the types of things his girlfriend might consider special rewards and he had a hard time articulating anything other than a lame sounding, "Oh," as she reached down to thread her fingers carefully through his own.

"How's your hand, babe? That cut looked nasty even from up in the stands. I hope the medics-" but her words died on her lips as she looked down to examine his injured hand and spotted a familiar-looking spiked leather bracelet. Instantly, the warm smile melted away and she stepped back slightly to glare at him. "Marco, where did you get that bracelet?" she practically hissed, her eyes narrowing in suspicion before she glared up into the stands at Star.

"Fro-" but he hadn't even gotten a word out before Penelope answered for him.

"It was from Star, wasn't it?" she demanded, her voice strained with suppressed fury as he could only nod meekly. "And did she tell you what it meant when she gave you that?" Turning her frigid gaze back towards the mewman princess still smiling happily, she felt the roiling anger in her boil over.

"Well actuall-"

"Of course she didn't! I knew that conniving bitch couldn't be trusted around you, I just knew it!" Reaching down, she seized Marco's wrist and angrily stripped the leather bracelet off of his arm; not even reacting to the pained whimper he let out as the metal studs tore at the wound on his hand.

Stomping away from her boyfriend, she marched as quickly as her poofy dress would allow back into the stands. Anger was a completely inadequate word to describe the feelings raging inside of her right now as she gripped the bracelet so hard its small silver spikes broke the skin of her palm. Shoving roughly past several friends who stepped in to ask her if she was alright, she stopped right in front of Star before hurling the bracelet to the ground at their feet.

"You're unbelievable," she growled, watching with cold satisfaction as the color drained out of Star's face when her blue eyes flicked to the blood-stained bracelet now laying on the wooden floor between them.

"Penelope, Wha-"

*SLAP* The sharp sound of Penelope's hand as it smacked Star across the face reverberated through the now deathly quiet stands of staring mewmans.

"Stay away from my Marco you fucking slut!" she roared, pointing her finger into Star's face and looming over her while everyone else looked on in stunned horror. "You know he's with me and yet you keep fucking pushing. So I'm going tell you just this one last time… Stay. Away." Turning on her heel, she marched away as everyone around Star stood and stared, too shocked to utter a word.

Stepping down from the stands, she strode purposefully over to Marco and fixed him with an angry stare. They stood there, a tense silence between them as Moon's distant calls of "Penelope, you come back here at once," rang out behind them. Finally, when she felt like she could no longer stand the rising pressure inside of her she voiced words she thought she would never say.

"I want you to quit."

"Quit?" Marco wasn't sure what she was getting at and he wracked his still shellshocked brain for answers.

"I want you to quit being Star's guide. You offered to quit before and I said no because I knew what being her guide meant to you. But she's proven she can't be trusted around you so I want you to quit." Penelope watched as the enormity of what she was asking dawned slowly on his face. He fidgeted uncomfortably, obviously struggling to give her an answer, but she was done trying to be accommodating. Behind her, she could hear someone approaching. It might have been her parents, or perhaps even the royal guards come to arrest her for striking the crown princess, but at that moment she didn't care. She needed an answer from him and nothing in the multiverse was going to pull her away before she got one.

"Penny, I…" he began before trailing off into uncomfortable silence.

"Marco, I've tried being nice to her, but she just won't respect boundaries. It's either me or her; now choose."

Opening his mouth to answer, he was shocked when Queen Moon strode up behind his girlfriend and placed a hand on the princess' shoulder. "Come with me, Now," she said in a voice that brooked no argument. Immediately, the fight seemed to leave Penelope and she half-turned as the queen made to guide her off the field.

"I want your answer by tomorrow, Marco. Me or her, you choose," she managed to say before finally letting herself be led off the field as all around the crowd broke into frenzied and hushed whispers.

Author's Note

It's been a while. Apologies for the long delay between chapters, but as always real life has an unpleasant ability to interrupt my pursuits of writing. Nevertheless, it has been an honor getting this chapter out to you all and I really hope you loved it. We've got action, suspense, drama, all of it! And I have to say I can't wait to read your reactions to some of the bigger bombshells that were dropped in this chapter!

Originally this chapter was also going to contain some after tournament things, but as you can see its length is already extremely long, so I decided to push a couple of those things into the next chapter. Ronald has graciously allowed me to contribute to those parts even though it is technically his turn to write the chapter. So as always, if you love it feel free to drop a review or fav/follow as I always love reading your reviews. Speaking of, Ronald and I are going to do a special "review" response section next chapter, so if you have any questions feel free to ask them in your review! Until next time!

~Lord Cornwalis

~Ronald Reagan