These Dreams

Ripped

The horse pawed the ground, snorting once, twice, then it let out a whinny, as if sensing that it was almost time. He felt the weight of the armor upon him, weighing down on his shoulders, the helmet restricting his vision, and making it hard to catch his breath - breath that he was very grateful to have, considering he'd just bloody well drowned.

That sodding bastard.

He sucked in a deep breath, and the horse shifted beneath him, causing him to nearly loose his grip on the lance.

Wait - the lance?

He had but a moment to register that he was holding it before his squire slapped the horse's flank sending him catapulting forward, hooves thundering, toward the other knight, who sported a wicked-looking lance of his own. He leaned instinctively away at the first pass, moving his lance to avoid injuring the other knight, and the crowd let loose with jeers and sounds of disapproval.

He pulled his horse up short at the end of the run, wheeling him about - wondering if he could just drop the lance and ride off without making too much of a fuss. He instinctively patted his legs, looking for a pocket and within it, the compass, but encountered more armor instead. He could see the knight at the other end repositioning and readying himself for another run. He needed to make a decision and he needed to do it fast.

That's when he saw her - not that she was trying to hide. She sat up in the viewing stands, on a throne next to her parents, in a long gown of sapphire blue with a jewel-encrusted circlet on her head to match. She looked regal and every inch a princess.

There was nothing for it - he was going to have to stay, and that meant playing along. The problem was, in all his pirate life he'd never had an occasion to joust. He'd impersonated just about every profession there was, including a knight, but he'd never had to enter competition before. How hard could it be? The pointy end went in the other guy.

His horse pawed the ground again, lowering its head, and then they were off, hurtling toward each other, and Killian did his best to keep the lance at chest level. It seemed the best, broadest target to aim for. At the last moment, the knight twisted his body to avoid Killian's lance, arcing his lance around to compensate. The tip tore into Killian's upper arm, ripping off his shoulder piece and taking a good chunk of flesh along with it. His lance fell to the dirt, but he managed to keep his seat - just barely.

He pulled his horse up, turning him sharply to ready for another run. His squire rushed up, handing him his lance, and before he could adjust his grip on it, the horse was in motion. He raised the tip of his lance, expecting the knight's maneuver this time. A split-second before he reached his opponent, he dug his spur into his horse's left flank, causing him to sidestep toward the other knight, effectively causing the man's horse to course-correct in mid-stride. He took advantage of their distraction and rammed the lance home, hitting the knight squarely in the breastplate and unhorsing him in the center of the field.

A cheer went up from the stands and a veritable ocean of lady's ribbons and scarves floated down at him. He removed his helmet, and saw Emma's face register her interest at the sight of him. With a smile, he urged his horse forward to the stands, extending the tip of his lance toward her, so that she might tie her favor to the end. Emma got to her feet, holding his eyes.

And then she very deliberately turned away.

###

After a brief stop at the surgeon's tent, he had a bandage on his shoulder and was now sharing a congratulatory drink with the other knights, including his opponent, Sir Archie. Whoever knew that the good doctor had not only the makings of a knight, but a crush on the blue fairy? She was a virginal maiden in this scenario, and quite enamored of the doctor, as well.