Summary: He will always be her champion – even if it meant that he would be the final trial to surpass for suitors vying for her hand.


Tohru's hold tightened against the long, cold handle of the scepter she held in one hand, trying to stop her hand from shaking visibly. In front of her, the vast, open-air arena stretched out, rows upon rows of spectators encircling them, waves of anticipation rolling off them even under the hot afternoon sun. She had already worn a lighter, summer dress and her platform, raised high in the air, provided shade, but it was not enough to keep the sun's heat completely out of course. She could feel the sweat forming on her brow, but she impatiently wiped it away with a handkerchief, her eyes not leaving the ground below her.

Before her, a few meters shy from where she was seated, stood the tall figure of her knight and champion, Sohma Momiji. His back was turned to her, magnificent blond hair being swept by the afternoon wind which had decided to grace them with its presence, as if to provide a reprieve from the heat. He had just finished parring a blade from a dark-skinned noble who had let out a yelp when his face met the blond's booted foot, before he was knocked out clean by the flat of her knight's blade.

Now he stood straight and tall in front of her, arm hanging loosely at his side, hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword which glinted quite menacingly in the afternoon sun in spite of his open, non-threatening stance. He looked relaxed, but he was fooling no one – not her, not her people, and most certainly not any of her remaining handful of suitors locked in competition. He was the final 'challenge' after all, and for these men who wished to marry her, they would quite literally had to get past him first before bearing the privilege of asking for her hand. His position in front of her was both symbolic and a warning.

Still, she worried for him. He wouldn't have been made the Queen's Knight if he wasn't an excellent swordsman and close-range combatant, but she couldn't help but worry anyway. The trials she herself decided on was designed to test humility (waiting hand and foot to the kingdom's elderly and the sick), patience (waiting for an officer assigned to them to raise a flag at an appointed hour before they could proceed), and intelligence, (how they would solve one of the country's issues) among others. They are after all, fighting for her hand, which meant that whoever comes out on top of the competition will be crowned King Consort and will rule the country together with her.

She could never forget the look on everyone's faces when she had named the final challenge the suitors will have to overcome.

"The final trial will be my Knight and Champion, Sohma Momiji."

Her advisors had immediately protested. "Does this mean a duel, Your Majesty?"

"Yes, it is basically a duel. Well, it will not really be a duel if they decide to band together and face my knight."

"But a King Consort will have no need of – "

"A man should know when to pick up his pen and his sword." She had cut them off. "The reason I am even considering marrying is because of my duty to provide an heir to the throne, which every single one of you had so kindly reminded me of. I am choosing not only a man but an individual who will stand by my side to rule this nation. As such, he shall understand the privileges and the dangers of being with me."

"Your Majesty, but this would mean that either your knight or your suitors has the possibility of losing their lives in the process – "

"Yes. Those are the stakes." She knew how much she would be asking of Momiji, but she merely smiled at her advisors. "They are vying for not only my hand but a crown after all."

At any other time she would have been terrified at the idea of willingly betting another's life for the Crown, would never dream of it, even. Or trembled in fear of losing someone who mattered to her. She would never ask someone to do that for her.

But she was, is, Queen. Her position had forced her to ask a lot from everyone around her. Be it loyalty or their life, in the figurative or the literal sense. Well, seldom the literal sense. In order to protect her nation, there were times she wished she didn't have to make a choice on someone's life.

"You did as I expected you to."

She had looked up from her hands, which she had buried her face in, confused. Her lower lip was trembling, tear-streaked cheeks glinting in the pale moonlight. A piece of square cloth was held out in front of her – his handkerchief. She took it with shaky hands. "W-What?"

"It's only natural for you to test your suitors. They will be vying for the second-highest position in this land. I know what the other tests are for, and I thought it proper. I thought you wouldn't be testing them on bravery and physical prowess – but you proved me wrong." He glanced at her, topaz eyes liquid in the moonlight. "I am honored to be given the responsibility and the humongous pressure of weeding out unqualified scoundrels for the crown, My Queen."

She looked at him in horror, but he was actually laughing. "I just… I just bet your life, Momiji. I thought you would be mad… at me."

He calmed down from his fit of laughter and looked at her, more serious this time. "I am your Knight. My life has always been yours. When I accepted to be your Champion I was well aware of what else I would be accepting and what was expected of me."

"And, Tohru, I am also very well aware of what you are testing me on." His voice went an octave deeper, and she felt like she would melt from the smoldering topaz gaze he fixed on her. "Rest assured, I will not be losing to anyone there."

The rules were clear: anyone who had taken part in the trials will have the chance to ask for her hand. Anyone.

Her eyes fixed on the white cloth wrapped around his right forearm, a gift she had given him the night before the trials. It was what singled him out among the many males in the arena – identified him as the Queen's champion. She had spent hours embroidering an Iris flower on it which is what the suitors – and some of the nearest spectators can see whenever Momiji raised his sword arm.

Does he know what an Iris meant?

Two men were able to emerge from the third trial and both of them made their way towards her Knight. She bit her lip. Perhaps she should be thankful that there were only two of them?

But then her heart thundered in her ribcage when a third man approached him, raising a sword. Three to one. She was starting to regret her command. What if he really gets hurt – or worse – die because of her selfishness?

His stance changed – where before he was standing with his sword merely hanging in his side, he shifted his grip minutely, which made all three men jump and shift nervously on their ankles. And then she remembered his words to her.

I will not be losing to anyone there.

Rather than second-guess her command, she decided to trust in him. He is her Knight, and whenever the situation called for him to defend her, he rose to the occasion each time.

Tohru held her head high and watched as Momiji once more proved to her why she had never anything to worry about marrying someone undeserving of the crown and she didn't have feelings for.