*I don't own Jane and the Dragon or its characters

A/n: Funny enough, I thought this was going to be the halfway point, but now I'm seriously doubting it. Oh well, as long as my muse humors me. I think the queen is a good character, but in the episode "A Thing of Beauty" she did seem to care a little too much about a painting she probably sat hours to model for. I know, its just like when a bad photo is taken of us, but I think for such a young woman to worry so much, would make things worse. If there is anything you'd like like to see or for me to include, feel free to leave the details in the comment. Hope you enjoy!

As of Dec 4, 2020 this chapter was edited for clarity, to fix spelling and grammar, as well as other errors.

Chapter 10: The Queens Picnic

They had traveled at least half of an hour away from the castle, through the gentle wood, until they found an open field with enough trees and shrubs to provide shade. The Queen's picnic was nothing more than a ladies tea party, full of little cakes, tarts, cookies, and fruits, as well as boiled eggs, cheese, wine, and cider. They drank from cups of silver, while the queen drank from a cup of gold. On small embroidered rugs each lady sat, the Queen of course sat on the finest, which glimmered from the threads of gold and silver upon a fabric of purple. Their horses stood a little away, eating from the grass, not caring which of them was the finest, though of course, it was the queen's horse.

Their rugs were arranged in a circle, each a few meters away from each other, except for Jane who sat the closest to her majesty. Unbeknownst to the others, Jane was the Queen's guard, which they all thought was her preferred servant. Once she allowed herself to relax and not think so negatively, Jane ate and spoke only when spoken to, watching, and observing the others. The ladies, with powdered faces, upturned noses, and mouths flippant, Jane found little pleasure in their company. All of them, except for the Queen and Lady Silvia were full of notions of what should and should not be, and the she knight more than once bit her tongue to prevent an outburst.

None of them cared or took much notice of the redhead, except for Lady Silvia, who found her society very pleasant. Born into a family of merchants, Silvia Silver sold trinkets of silver, which the Queen delighted in. It was not long until she had gained favor in her majesty's eyes for her modesty and manners. The very cups the ladies drank from were from the artisan cousins of hers, and this delighted her, but not to the point of egotism and pride. Jane thought, that despite the woman's age, and delicate appearance, her heart must have been large and very fat to bestow such kindness upon all the other not so pleasant company.

Pig decided it was best not to disturb her human, but to explore on her own; she knew where he was, and could return right away. The scents of the forest were fascinating, delectable, pungent, earthy, musty, and strong. Every so often she could detect the scent of boar and avoided such areas; it would not do to become a mother and neglect her beloved master. And not that far away, she smelled familiarity.

From a distance, she squinted her dark eyes and saw them all; it was the other humans from the castle, and a few others she could not recognize. Among them was the one human, the beloved of her master. If he knew, would he be pleased? Perhaps he already knew. However, something was not right.

The pheromones in the air were a mess of stink. It was hard to say where it all ended and began, but moving her snout around, Pig was sure none of it came from the redhead. The male among them jumped, screamed, and fell to the ground in a grandiose manner. He was the storyteller and the music maker. Sometimes he made pretty noise, and other times he was just the cause of the noise.

As colorful, and fascinating humans were, the sow did not always enjoy their company. Most of them were dishonest and cruel, with tempers that flared and noisy mouths. Not all of them were so noisy, or dishonest, this much she knew. The dominant female of the group, with her long, light-colored head fur, was mostly quiet, and gentle to her fellow beasts and herself. The redhead, who could also be counted as a dominant female, treated all beasts with sincerity, and perhaps cared for them better than humans.

Why the she knight cared for the biggest beast of them all. It was no wonder her master was taken by her. Pig would have liked to taste what they were eating, or listen to some of the pretty noise, but she should return to his side. If the others saw her, they would disturb the peace that was long overdue. However, she allowed herself to be seen by one, and this was enough before she ran away.

When their hearts were giddy from the cider and wine, Jester sang heart-wrenching ballads, then enlightened them with tales with a moral. When they grew weary of silly songs and jokes, he told them a long and tragic story of lies, deceit, and lost affections. They all wept, except for Jane who saw nothing romantic, but stupidity. Why would a woman throw herself at a man when he did not want her? And why would he want her after she had been cruel and vicious?

Yet, what did the lady knight know of romance? She had never taken the time to study the ballads like how he had. Whether she was conscious of men was left to be seen, but Jester had hoped to seek some approval; her hidden displeasure said otherwise. No matter, with another song, or dance, or poem, she will see his versatility, she had to. She had to.

The breeze felt wonderful, there was so much sky, earth, and green. Thankful for her training, Jane skillfully tracked Pigs footprints. Some paths were small, but it was not long before she found a small clearing. Amongst the rocks and shrubs, lay a man, that man being Smithy.

Little by little, she stepped closer; his fair hair appeared like gold, reticence framed his face and his tunic was very fine, albeit a little old-fashioned. The years had been good to him; they made his face sharper, his words smoother, and his wit faster. If he would have had the opportunity to study, Jane was sure he might have had the means to leave the kingdom by now or to serve the king like her father. Yet, Jane could not imagine him standing, and appearing stately next to the king, but if the Princess were around, she would say he was like a sleeping prince. If she heard correctly, Smithy was called the stable prince by the maids who giggled if he happened to pass their way.

For her part, Jane would not bestow such a name on him, for haughty he was not, grand he was not, but handsome, and generous he was. Charming, she could also say did not match him well, for that required a certain amount of deception. If she could pick one word to describe him, it would be generous. Honorable, was what he had proven himself to be, as well as industrious, but trusting, he was not. To know him, it took extra diligence, and to understand him, meant putting away one's pride and to listen; to care for him, that much came easily; too easily.

An air of calm always surrounded him, but like this, with his arms at his sides, and his face relaxed, he was defenseless. She knelt next to him, listening to his even breaths, thankful he could find peace for once. Smithy worked so hard and received little thanks, but this well deserved time to himself should refresh him. And from up close, she took attention to his long lashes and his average, healthy pink lips; they enticed her.

The mouth which spoke words of wisdom, of concern without reproach, of light instead of darkness, what would it sound like when he would wake? Never, had anyone spoken so carefully, with discernment, and with soft meaning. As a living, breathing being, he was one of the best people she knew, someone who did no one wrong. Smithy was a blessing in disguise, and she was blessed to have him in her life. And of all the irresponsible things she had ever thought of doing, one of them was to kiss him.

If Jane wanted to, would it not be so easy to steal what was not hers? However, he would not accept it, because, despite his position in society, he was proper, and would never cause harm to others; that, and he did not care for her that way. Why would she ever think she had the right to treat him as such? Perhaps if she wanted to, he would forgive her, because that was how he was; that much she knew. Slowly, she stood back up, fearing he may sense what she was thinking.

By this point even the ladies were unamused. Fickle, heartless, dare he say vapid? An unintelligible bunch, except for the Queen and Lady Silvia, who Jester found delightful, and worth speaking to. Without his lady Knight, he found little to no reason as to why he should try to behave and be civil. Of course, it was his duty to amuse, so while the others talked of dresses, men, and skincare, he juggled. Something he could not get over was the change in Jane's mood a few minutes ago.

For that better part of that afternoon, she had been quiet, civil, and polite, so unlike Jane. So what caused the change?

The sweet smell of roses, which belonged to his beloved. He would know that smell anywhere. Either it was a deep sleep or a dream, but when his eyes opened he was met by Jane, still in her lovely gown, "Smithy?" she whispered.

"Jane?"

"I am sorry if I woke you."

The blacksmith sat up, scratching the back of his neck. Certainly, he was not dreaming, for he felt the bluntness of his nails against his skin. And to be woken in such a pleasant manner, he was not sorry it had happened. However, why was she here?

"What day is it?" he yawned.

"Only a few hours have passed."

He rubbed the tiredness from his eyes and yawned a few times before he felt more alert. As eyes would do, they saw her, they looked, they traveled, they beheld, they observed. What could be said to describe what he saw? As the uneducated man he was, he could only think and feel in the way he knew how; he adored her.

Over time, he thought he would grow accustomed to her formal wear, but that was not the case at the moment. Drowsy or not, Jane was in one of the finest gowns he had seen her in yet. It was to be expected, she was the Queen's guard, and the kingdom had enough resources to dress its knights in finery. Unlike years past, the fishing trade had picked up, attracting families and clans into the Kingdom, as well as artisans who carved jewelry of bone and wood. Thanks to the low taxes, even more families were persuaded to move into the kingdom, meaning the king could build up the treasury with the proper management of funds by the chamberlain.

Smithy decided it would be best to look at her directly in the face, otherwise, he might lose focus. "I must have fallen asleep."

"I saw that." she smiled. "I figured you must have eaten a big meal and were lulled to sleep by songbirds."

"Not exactly. What about you Jane? What are you doing here?"

"I saw Pig from a distance and thought you were near. I wanted to make sure you were alright."

Why did such a woman exist? Why she was more than a woman. Why did such a person exist to test his existence? With emerald eyes that sometimes could not decide if they were blue or green, with emotions that played over her features clearly, no matter how she tried to mask them. How could he ever hope, or dream that such a creation could care for him?

Dried leaves crunched beneath her shoes, and Pig licked up the crumbs which fell off her dress. Jane smiled and handed Pig the pieces of apple she was going to plant. From her fingers, Pig licked up all the fruit and juices, and no sign of disgust passed the she knight's face, but instead warmth and happiness. Yes, Jane liked Pig, and Smithy liked Jane. Well, there was more than like, but he could not readily admit such.

"Why do you ask?"

She lowered her eyes, "Lately, it seems as though there was something amiss," she dared a quick side glance. "and I thought you were troubled."

He was troubled. There was no one he could speak to of these feelings of his. The complexity and comprehension of the human heart, as well as the metaphorical one, with its intrinsic enigmas, layers, barriers, secrets, and memories; there was no time to explain them all. Who would bear it but himself?

"I fare as well as others who are in a similar circumstance," Which was true. "though Pig does lighten the mood a bit."

The answer was tolerable enough, but she was left wanting. "Good, I am glad."

"Are you enjoying the Queen's picnic?"

How should she answer? She would not be rude, but she would not mask the truth either. Would he care to hear? Did not men dislike talkative women? No, it would not matter, because it was not a man, but Smithy; there was a difference.

Light filtered through the trees, illuminating the strands which dared to escape the head covering. Before she even spoke, Smithy guessed there would be trouble for a number of reasons. Jane, who was born from a well-to-do family, had defied fate and became a Knight. What would she have in common with other ladies of the court?

All the time she had spent in the sun not only would darken her lovely skin, but birth more freckles upon her skin; almost like a map of stars. Another problem lied in her intellect, which was as fine and sharp as any educated man, but with the cleverness of a woman. None of these were negative, except to everyone who remained close-minded, and hardhearted. Jane did not equal anyone, because she was different, which he knew the world would fear; Smithy, on the other hand, felt the opposite. After a moment's silence, she answered. "I enjoy the queen's society, but her ladies are a different story."

A fault of the upper classes he found was their pride. He was glad Jane did not fit into that category. "Have they been civil?"

"Yes," She answered with reluctance; biting her bottom lip in thought. "but they are full of opinions and enjoy gossiping and belittling others. The Queen and Lady Silvia are good company, but the others are just so…. Ugh! They are so annoying. I thought I would explode with anger if I did not get a little breathing room, so I left with the excuse of having to use the privy. You cannot realize what a relief it was to see Pig and to find you. However, I must return soon. "

"Do not allow them to take advantage of the situation, Jane."

"What am I to do? It is such an awkward situation."

Oh, how he hated to see the injustice towards her; if anything could incite anger in him, it would be the mistreatment of his friends. "I know there are many words which could be taken the wrong way, and using insults would not be advisable, which is why it would be an excellent idea to kill them with kindness."

"Kill them with kindness? What do you want me to do, stab them with a flower?"

If anyone could succeed in such a feat, it would be her; he chuckled at this. "I mean, treat them with greater kindness than they deserve. At first, they may take it as simple manners, but when they go to their homes, later on, they will think about the day and find they had done wrong to someone they believe is a humble servant. Their guilt will eventually get the better of them, and they will realize they must do better, be kinder, or else be eaten away by such guilt, and become what they most despise."

Recently, she noticed a change in him. Not an openness, but perhaps leniency. Whatever it was, she appreciated the increased conversation. A quiet brilliance, beneath all the smoke, sweat, and dust, was a disciplined mind; it made her wonder what could be found in those eyes if one searched them. Still, it was not any easier to understand him. "Which would be?"

"Young women with wrinkles before their time, because worry and stress got the better of them."

Why had she not thought of it? Any woman with ice in her veins and vanity as large as the merchant's stomach would care about such things as superficial beauty. "That is a champion idea," Jane frowned. "but I could never lie to them, it would be wicked."

"Then find what good you can see in them and focus on that. Win them over by example. There is good in almost everyone Jane, and I believe you will see the rest comes naturally."

"It is worth a try, thank you Smithy."

"My pleasure." he smiled.

Please, she thought, do not say that; it made her feel special and cared for. It was like he was waiting for an opportunity to help her, which was just like him, but it seemed so coincidental. "What are you doing out here anyway?"

Please, she thought, do not be like the others. There was no great change in his expression; the open manner which he explained left little room for question. "I am trying to rest before it is time for the preparations for the ball. In about a week or so, I will not be able to rest very much, let alone sleep a full night."

"The ball, do not remind me." she groaned.

Looking down at her fine shoes, and wonderful gown, she sighed. "Like now, I will have a fine gown I must wear. I am grateful for the generosity of her majesty, but it does not suit me. Knights are supposed to look threatening, not..." she whispered, "pretty."

The dressmaker had outdone herself when she made such a gown. It would have suited any young lady who could afford such finery, but on Jane, it was like those embroidered colors jumped with life. Still, from the scrunched up nose, and furrowed brow, it appeared as though there was more of an argument within herself.

"What about the Roman soldiers, did not their suits of armor include a skirt?"

"Yes."

"In your studies, I am sure you will find they were not a threat to mess with."

With crossed arms, she answered. "That was the uniform, it was the fashion of that time."

Jane was becoming defensive, as was her nature when others made her feel anxious. "Jane, if I did not know you," He confessed; remembering her early days of Knights training. "I would have mistaken you for a lady in waiting."

"Oh."

Jane hugged herself, her tummy full of a hundred butterflies ready to crawl out of her mouth. She reached down to pet Pig and was licked. After this, she felt a little better. "I almost was once, but not anymore."

Knowing she would return to the picnic soon, Smithy grabbed the waterskin and asked her to stretch out her hands. They were feminine hands, as scarred, dry, and calloused as they were, and beautiful in their stubborn way. The coolness of the water was another welcomed feeling. Then, with his own hands, he scrubbed them a little and emptied the contents of the waterskin. Even when he knew her hands were clean, he held on to them, and looked up at those confused, troubled eyes, as though everything he was about to say had no weight without such an action. "Jane, we have known each other for a few years now, and all I have to do is listen for your voice, and know it was you. A gown, title, upbringing, hair color, or sex will not change the fact that you are you."

"I know that much, but being a Knight is more than this. Nowhere in my oath did it say I was required to wear a gown."

"I would think not, but you promised to serve and honor King Caradoc. In turn, you were assigned the task of protecting her majesty, which might mean having to disguise yourself from time to time. It is better for you to wear a dress then Gunther," He teased lightly. "though I am sure one large enough could be made if the occasion called for it."

"I know, but in truth, I do not hate it, but the others look at me as though...as though…. I do not know."

"They see you as you are Jane; a young woman who continues to prove all she can be. I know you are going to continue to stupefy those around you, but then again that never seemed to bother you before."

It was a comfort, his presence, his words, the look he bestowed upon her. The warmth, his friendship, it was something she could trust. "Thank you, Smithy," And giving his hand a squeeze, she truly felt the depth of their friendship. "I appreciate your kind words."

"No matter what you wear, it is your smile that always suits you best Jane."

Letting go of her hands, he immediately missed the warmth that had occupied them a moment before. Jane, for a while, felt foolish. Was she not getting carried away again? It was only kindness, she had to remind herself. It was only Smithy.

"I must go before they send Jester to look for me."

The clarity of the air, the rustling trees, and leaves which cascaded, there was a crack. Was it from the leaves or his heart? To another man's attention, she would go, slipping away from his grasp. Then again, he had to remember, Jane belonged to no one. "Goodbye, Jane."

As she walked back, as ladylike, as softly, and carefully, she allowed the breeze to caress her cheek. The moon, nature, Pig, and herself are the only ones who could know. No one else could know the truth. There were still plans to be put into action, goals to accomplish, and to become distracted would not do.

Still, she could not help but feel warmth in her cheeks when she thought of him. It was alright to dream as long if it did not hurt anyone right? Perhaps the trees would judge her, and the ladies would criticize the length of her privy time, but it would not matter. If anyone noticed the redness of her ears or the dust of pink in her cheeks, if anyone cared to ask, she would be happy to blame it on the weather. With her head held high, she returned her gait, until it was so very Jane.