Normally I wouldn't clarify, but as this may turn into a larger project and my past works have confused so many people, here are a few explanatory notes first:
-As is the norm with most of my works, these characters are written to be older, damaged, and bi. Amaze/Blazamy is one of multiple ships planned. Polyamory is quite possible.
-I am avoiding old-timey speak. Likewise, I am not representing a medieval scenario with strict historical realism. This is meant to be legible and fun. Moreover, much of my philosophical, socio-economic and religious commentary would be difficult to present if I were to be more faithful to realistic history.
-Lastly, this is not based on The Black Knight. It may make cheeky allusions to it, or consider adopting a few of its ideas, however.
Please do enjoy.
1
The woman in armour, species indiscernible, shifts with a metallic clatter of plates layered over a skin-tight suit of something that resembles rough cotton, intended to absorb sweat and stave off the chafing with every swell and ripple of muscles in impressive movement.
The feline finds her mouth very dry.
"...I, uh... Hello."
A quirk of the brow, handsome. "Greetings."
"...How are you?"
"I have been better."
"...Oh. Guess that's... to be expected, considering."
The brow arches a little further.
"...Ahem. So!"
A tail flicks, moody, curious.
"I hope you're not disappointed in me."
"Disappointed, in you?"
An almost shy little nod. "Mmhm."
"Why would I be?"
"Other than all the shit - sorry, strife, I mean - with your father, uh, the King..."
"Other than that."
"...I must smell terrible."
"Rather unimportant."
"And, uh... I don't really know how to address you, errm, properly, as such... Princess? Can I call you Princess? I don't even know the difference between Your Highness and Your Majesty, are they the same?"
"Princess is fine."
"I know your name, I promise, I just don't mean to be too... familiar, I guess."
"Princess," she repeats patiently and in her velvet undertone, "is fine."
"...Right. And you thought I'd be taller, didn't you?"
"Well, I..."
"It's okay if you did!" A forgiving chuckle. "Don't worry. Everyone underestimates me."
A shaky inward breath, as if the older woman might bolster her own courage in the presence of this almost mythical warrior, who is quite the jester, it would seem.
There is a pause.
"...Am I shorter than you were expecting?"
At this, a snarl of impatience. "How dare you."
"Huh?"
"Paladin! Be serious, would you!"
The younger woman twitches within her armour, but stands her ground.
"You jest with me. After all the fighting. All my father's ranting about tradition and authority. All the men you've left broken. You come here... and jest." The Princess rises from the plain wooden stool and stomps in heels over the uneven floorboards stained with sloshes of beer, prodding the slightly shorter figure in the shoulder pauldron. "Do you have any idea the danger you are in? The danger I am in, simply speaking with you? That aforementioned 'shit' between yourself and my father, the King!"
"...Sorry."
"Sorry! That is the sort of thing you say, after leaving your lover dissatisfied in your bedchamber!"
A shake of the head, earnest, within an ornate yet makeshift helm, at once made with care and maintained with haste. "I'm being quite self-conscious right now, Princess."
"So you should be! Foolish girl, you are likely to get the peasants you have organised into this little rebellion of yours slaughtered!"
At this, the armoured woman becomes stern. "I won't let that happen."
"You should not treat rebellion as a game, Paladin."
"This isn't-" An emotional little huff. "I'll protect them, I'll protect-" A gesture, meant to have great meaning. "Princess, I know you're taking a risk being alone with me, and I-"
One woman snorts steam in the other's flushed face.
"Thank you for seeing me!"
There is a pause. Again.
"...And you just called me Paladin."
"That is what they call you. Your admirers. The men and women you've inspired to stand against my father. The men and women he will not hesitate to kill, to make an example out of, so long as he gets his fucking taxes."
"To stand against him. But not to fight him."
"...What."
"Just like you said." The woman in armour clears her throat. "I am violent. But I don't teach violence. Just... to stand against injustice. To stand up for themselves, their families. To talk about their suffering, to demand that those in power do their - pardon, Princess - fucking jobs and deliver essential services, paid for by those taxes."
"...You speak as if you have had some schooling, but you lack any idea as to how all of this works in practice."
"I'm only saying the things you said!"
The feline blinks, like the sun has gone out, just momentarily.
"Sort of! Mostly. Granted, I'm a lot more direct and confrontational about it than you are, and I am not the finest reader in the land whilst you have surely a wise and brilliant head on your shoulders in addition to all that tutoring a princess must sit through, but still! Our core ideals are mirrors!"
"You strange girl."
"I'm the strange one? You're positively weird, Princess."
The feline narrows her brilliant eyes.
Then there is a smile. Some warriors wear full helms, offering protection to the face, obscuring the wearer's features. This one only covers her skull, part of her brow, and segments of her flushed cheeks. And she's smiling.
"Do not grin at me like an imbecile."
"I'll do the fighting. I'll put my life on the line, not theirs. I fight for them."
"...Humph."
"I know, Princess. I've put you in an awkward, uh... position. Sorry. But it must be done."
"Oh, good heavens above, this is a very, very awkward position, silly girl."
"But you're here now! You summoned me, you waited for me in this mucky little room... and I came. You knew I would." The Paladin rubs her neck, picking under the rim of her helm. "I had to try. And so did you. This is amazing, really. We could achieve so much, together. Our quest-"
"I could report you to my father and have you summarily executed."
"But you won't."
"This could be a trap."
"But it's not."
"How do you know that for certain?" An utterance of some irritation, as heat fills regal cheeks, chiselled from generations of a carefully maintained bloodline. "I am his daughter. Would killing you or dragging you off into his dungeon, not be in my best interest?"
"You're different."
"...How do you presume that I am any different?"
The head of the hammer catches the light dully from so much use as the Paladin steps a little closer to the candle. "Princess." To the woman who is as hot as a naked flame, yet her robes do not catch alight.
She stiffens.
"We've met, before."
"...I do not recall."
"Well, that's because we haven't actually met. But I've seen you, in person, giving lectures in the place I was born. My village."
"...My campaign."
"This was years ago. We were both smaller, back then."
"...I was trying to reach them."
"Yeah." Held aloft and aimed downward, the hammer's head is laid gently to the floor in rest, with a dull thud and a tangible vibration. Gauntleted hands settle upon the hilt, as if it were a staff, balanced upward. "You reached me. A peasant girl. And you didn't even see me, seeing you. A princess. Not the first time. Not the fifth. Never, 'til now."
The Princess swallows thickly.
"A face in the crowd. All those muddy faces, looking at you with suspicion, devotion, fear, awe. Like... a goddess just stepped out of the heavens and strolled into our muddy little hovel of shacks and hanging laundry. At first, we thought you'd come to continue your father's work... you know, threaten us for coin, labour, produce, men for the army and women for the men. I thought it strange. Why'd he send his daughter to do a thug's work? And then you started talking to us. And you... wouldn't shut up, for hours, with people gathering around you, stopping their work, sitting at your feet." The Paladin sighs. "And the things you said... things of education, of healthcare... I could never unhear it. I wouldn't forget. You sewed dreams in me, that night. All the things I could do, the person I could become... if only I wasn't born the daughter of a smith. Born poor and working too hard to enjoy what little I could afford after your father's ever-rising taxes."
Royalty does not interrupt.
The peasant girl clears her throat, eventually, as if to prompt a response, finally.
"...Do you know why I commanded this audience?"
"You command nothing of me. That's the point. That's... why I like you so much. You hoped I'd see your reason. And I hope you'll see mine."
A delicate mouth, quivering with emotion.
"I've listened to a lot of your lectures. Obviously. Some of the men and women laughed behind your back, too scared to mock you to your face, and some of them thought you were being cruel on purpose, standing there in your pretty garments... but some knew better. I knew better. And I did something about it."
"...You presume a great deal of knowledge, but your actions are stupid and reckless."
"You're here, aren't you? Giving me a chance, when you don't have to." The armoured woman shifts again, as if fidgeting at an itch without scratching it. "And I just told you. It's because you're willing to speak with a foolish peasant girl who pissed off your father after riling up the people he despises. I'm doing this as much for you, because of you, as I'm doing it for myself and for them."
"A Paladin's role is to do battle with evil, isn't it?"
"I never called myself... God, it's silly. I only took up this hammer one day and smashed a tax collector to bits with it."
"Ha, that is all?"
"I felt awful, after. Relieved at how much sleep I was getting. Excited by the broader prospects. He'd been sussing out my forge for ages. The harassment, the threats. I couldn't spare anything more. I wouldn't surrender my body or property as payment."
"This was your first?"
"Mmhm. You've kept an eye on my little rebellion all this time. You know I'm not going to stop until I win, for their sake. For mine. And yours."
"...I thought so."
"Now here we are. You're not even arguing with me when I tell you that I'm doing this for your own good. You've thought too deeply about our suffering."
The Princess falls onto the simple wooden stool, again.
"You want to stop him, too."
"You are... an intriguing figure, Paladin."
"Thank you, Princess. You, too."
"You want my help."
"I want to help you. Help me, help them."
A weary little groan.
"It's a lot, isn't it?"
"Are you not uncomfortable, in all of that?"
"The armour?"
"The duty."
"Not terribly. I do it out of love, and also, because I am a grumpy little woman who doesn't take kindly to being pushed around. I hate bullies." The Paladin stands a little taller. "Let's end this, Princess. Together."
For a while, there is silence.
"...Please."
And for a while, the silence returns.
"...Perhaps. But I need a name, first."
"Oh! Of course. So rude of me. Hello, I'm Amy."
"Ah. Greetings, Amy."
That smile returns as she indicates her metallic shell. "But everybody calls me Rose."
"On account of your armour."
"Mmhm. And I look a little like the flower, underneath, too. I wanted to... maintain some of my identity, so I fashioned it based on my quills. I'm frankly amazed I haven't been recognised."
The Princess watches with exhausted interest as the Paladin removes her helmet for the first time.
"Nobody would suspect a common hedgehog. And I gave up my forge a long time ago, slipped into a quiet and solitary little life, so the hammer's all but forgotten as mine, by now. My identity is... I try to keep something of myself, in remembrance of me. I'm still embracing my destiny. But let me have something of old, something to hold onto."
"...I see."
That smile is bashful, surrounded by sweat and scabbed wounds and flecks of dried mud, rendering that pretty face a grubby one, unkempt as is so typical of the lowest classes and criminals and mercenaries alike, fringe springing freely above those energetic eyes. The muscles are womanly, indicative more of good health than combat prowess. Surely, she's untrained, yet overwhelmingly powerful and quick.
"You do appear quite harmless."
"...Not disappointed, still?"