first impressions (a fantasy AU fic)
@martinmoran ask and ye shall recieve. let me tell u the story of how these two fine soldiers met.
Context: When one applies to be a member of the royal guard, after passing all the tests to actually get in, they must train. This takes place on the castle grounds. All of the guards in training eat, sleep, and train together as a squadron. They’re paired off to give each of them a “go-to mission partner”, for when they actually go out in the field. There’s not a lot of choice in the matter. It’s really predetermined.
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“Beatrice Wells.”
The young woman stepped forward. She could hear men laughing behind her, the other guards in training. They didn’t want her here. There had never been a woman on the guard before. It was unheard of. She was here through an incredible exception, and she would not waste it. She kept her focus on the commanding guard in front of her.
“Your partner will be Michael Brooks.”
“What?!” she heard a whiny voice behind her say. “No, c’mon. I don’t want to train with a girl.”
“That decision is not up to you, soldier.”
“I specifically requested to be working with Chris Lynch. I’ve mentioned it to every superior I’ve met here.”
Beatrice’s stance shifted uncomfortably as the guard looked down his list. She couldn’t believe the man was even entertaining the possibility of favoritism. When she observed the guards from her lady-in-waiting position, this kind of talk would be punished. He’d have to run laps or do push ups or… something.
“Christopher Lynch is paired with Anthony Emsworth.”
“Captain,” a different voice called out. Beatrice looked to her side to see a muscular boy with light blonde hair step forward. Christopher, apparently. “I would also like to request working with Michael Brooks. My partner could become the girl’s partner.”
Beatrice looked in front of her again, trying to control her anger. The captain looked down the row of men. “Emsworth, step forward.” She didn’t look at the man who stepped forward. She kept her eyes planted directly in front of her, biting the inside of her cheek to keep from betraying her emotions.
“Yes sir.” The voice that responded was even and polite.
“Would you mind working with Beatrice Wells in your training?”
Mind?! Beatrice was fuming. There shouldn’t have been a choice in this at all.
“No sir. I wouldn’t.”
“Good. Fine. Beatrice Wells, your partner is Anthony Emsworth.”
Beatrice turned to face her new partner, who had turned to face her in the same way. Instantly, she knew why Christopher also wanted a different partner. He was about half a foot taller than her, with broad shoulders and gleaming black hair. His eyes, deep and dark brown, were looking into her blue ones. His skin was much darker than any of the other people in that courtyard.
The two misfits, paired together.
“I don’t know why we didn’t put them together in the first place,” the commanding guard mumbled, crossing their names off his list before resuming in his booming voice. “Michael Brooks, your partner is Christopher Lynch. If you ever disrespect me again, you’ll be punished. Stand together.”
Beatrice stepped back into line as the other soldier walked to her side, standing next to her. Brooks and Lynch high fived as they moved to each other. She wanted to murder them. Anthony didn’t acknowledge her. She didn’t acknowledge him. They stood silently for the rest of the partnering.
Once every trainee had a partner, the officer continued. “Right. This partner will be your closest companion. Eventually, you will be sent on missions or into battle together. Assuming you both make it through this program...” He trailed off, glancing Beatrice and Anthony. “You need to be able to trust this man with your life. That’s why from this moment on you will do everything together. You need to be comfortable with each other by the end of this week. For the duration of this two month training program, you will be living with your partner.”
The guard paused again, eyeing the man that stood next to Beatrice. “And I expect everyone to be able to control any urges they might have…” She shifted uncomfortably at the silent implication. He didn’t move at all. “Is that clear, soldiers?”
“Sir, yes, sir.” They replied, nearly in unison.
“Good. Sir Moran will show you to your rooms. Everything you need will be in there.”
“Emsworth and Wells, this is your room.”
The door opened to reveal a bare room, with a bed, a small dresser on each side, and a candle for each of them on opposite walls. Beatrice entered the space slowly, looking around at her new home. Back at the door, she could hear Moran continuing to speak to her partner.
“God sure did smile on you, eh? I mean, living here with a beautiful woman. You’re the lucky one, kid.”
Beatrice’s cheeks burned as her back faced the two men. Anthony didn’t respond right away. The statement hung in the room. Finally, the trainee broke the silence. “Is that all, sir?” he asked, his voice cool.
A pause. Papers rustling. Clearing throat. “Uh, yeah, that’s all. Um, dinner’s in three hours. Just… y’know, bond, or whatever. Keep it to the room or the courtyard.”
“Thank you, sir.”
The guard closed the door as he left and suddenly it was just the two of them. They looked at each other, both unsure of what to do next. Beatrice broke the silence, trying to start a conversation.
“Do you have a preference for which side?”
“No.”
Silence again. Bea slowly moved over to the right side of the room, sitting on the bed. The man moved to the left side, sitting on his bed. They were silent again. Beatrice started looking around the room, avoiding eye contact until they figured out how to start talking to each other.
“I’m sorry about this situation.” The man said after a moment. Nothing in his voice sounded insincere. “I know you must have been looking forward to being treated just like everybody else.”
Beatrice looked to the man, who was looking calmly back at her. She crossed her legs on the bed. “I’m sure you’re feeling the same.” She replied carefully, leaning against the wall.
“I am.” He said.
She nodded, fingering the scratchy blanket she sat on. “They don’t want us to make it through this training program.”
“When I came to receive my uniform, they assumed I was a lost servant.”
“They recognized me from the Queen’s lady-in-waiting court and scolded me for not being with Her Majesty.” Beatrice shook her head. “I’ve been waiting for this day for years. Training every chance I could.”
“With swords?” he asked, his curiosity piqued.
“Not really,” she admitted. “They would never let me use them for a significant amount of time. I knew enough to pass the tests, but that’s about it. I studied archery, mostly. A more graceful sport, in the Queen’s opinion.” Beatrice smiled wickedly. “I can take out a squirrel that’s 200 feet away.”
Anthony grew quiet for a moment, thinking. “I don’t know anything about archery,” he said. “But I’ve trained with swords since I was ten years old.”
“Your family let you have a sword at ten?” Beatrice asked, her eyes wide. She could never imagine being in a position like that. Starting to train for the royal guard as a child? The mere concept excited her, but the following reality made her worried. She was 18 and years behind her fellow soldiers. But the opportunity Anthony had received seemed lost on him, for he simply shrugged.
“It wasn’t mine,” he clarified. “It was a family sword, used to defend our home from thieves. But as I grew older, the expectation to be in the military was placed on me, and so I had to be properly trained to ensure my acceptance.”
“Well, you’re here.” Beatrice said, smiling softly. “Eight years later, you made it.”
Anthony’s neutral expression did not change. “Yes, I did.” A simple statement of fact. No pride exhibited. “Or, rather, I completed the first step of getting my foot in the door. We do have to train. They could still cut us.”
Beatrice grimaced. “I don’t want them to do that.”
“Neither do I.”
There was a moment of silence in the room. Beatrice looked to the door, curiously. “Did they say we could use the courtyard?”
“I believe so.”
“… so as you can see the only real difference in the swords is the distribution of the weight. The longsword weights the same as the smaller rapier, it’s just distributed more evenly throughout the weapon. It’s better for generating cutting power.”
Beatrice nodded, weighing the longsword in her hands. She felt powerful just touching the weapon. Holding it to herself, she felt like a true knight. Anthony was helpful and very patient with his explanations, which she was thankful for. After this, she was to teach him about archery and she knew he was just as eager for that as she was to learn about swords. Even now as she became distracted by the simple experience of holding a sword in her hands, he explained the purpose and advantages of the rapier, which he held.
“Therefore, no sword is more masculine or feminine than the other, because they are both extremely powerful and dangerous weapons designed for specific tasks on the battlefield.” He looked to his partner, the corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smile. “Logistics aside, it is exciting to hold a sword for the first time, is it not?”
“It is,” she agreed, a grin spreading across her face.
“Shall we?”
“Yes…” she trailed off, looking to her partner with a perplexed expression. “How should I address you?”
“My name should suffice.”
Beatrice nodded, smiling. “Yes, I assumed as much. But, you should know, I’d prefer that you address me by my last name.” Anthony raised an eyebrow. Beatrice scrambled to explain. “Our superior officers will be addressing us as such anyway. Or, they’re supposed to, at least. I’m slightly concerned that they will continue to refer to me by my first name. If my peers adopt the practice of last name, perhaps they’ll be inclined not to forget.”
“I understand,” Anthony said, nodding. “The reasoning is clear and logical. In the interest of equal footing, I think it’s only fitting that you address me by my last name as well.”
Beatrice nodded. “Emsworth, correct?”
“Yes... Wells?”
“Yes.”
“Well then, Wells… shall we?”
A smile spread across Beatrice’s face as her partner traded her longsword for a rapier, better for practicing. “Yes Emsworth, I believe we shall.”
“We’ll start with the stance…”
