Fall in Texas. It was no better than summer anywhere else in states. The temperature was still hovering in the low 90s, maybe the high 80s, with a humidity level that caused a brow to bead with sweat the moment they got outside. It was a running joke that the most popular hobby in the humid, hot south was to sweat.
Heat or not, there was a very specific wardrobe the knights of the faire were required to wear. Leather pants, roomy enough to move well, but not loose enough to be considered baggy. The pants always seemed to tighten on him around the ass and groin as he got sweater from the unbreathing pants. Leather boots, curtesy of one of the more expensive boot makers that had been working with the faire for decades, crafted custom boots for the knights. His boots were black and went up to just below his knee. The sole of the boot was thick with a heavy tread for grip. The boots had black leather lacing up the front that weaved through silver buttons with ornate designs masterfully etched into the sterling silver, which he kept polished to compliment the boots he kept oiled and buffed.
He then adorned himself in a loosely fitted white cotton poet-style shirt. It was soft against his skin and very comfortable – airy and light, open from the collar down to between his chiseled pectoral muscles. Which was promptly covered up with a shirt made of light gray that was quilted and thick to protect the skin against the rubbing of the armor. His suit was custom made for him from a combination of thick leather and shiny steel. The suit was built strategically to protect him from hand-to-hand combat, sword fighting, and the jousting he did as part of his role here at the festival. Over the armor he pulled a tunic of sturdy cotton with large squares of blue and red with the crests of the Renaissance Festival – a gold lion standing on its back paws with its front claws out in an attack pose.
There is a rule at this festival that head covering are REQUIRED. Not suggested, not hinted at, required and for this reason, he then laid a bright red scarf with designs of black swirls and dragons upon his head and gathered the excess at the nape of his neck and used a black ponytail rubber band to hold it together, the tail of the scarf hung down his back to just between his shoulder blades. When he was performing, he was the “red knight”, but currently he was wearing the uniform of the King’s guard that would stroll the festival on horseback between shows to help the security guards.
It was too early for shows yet, it was just opening cannon – 9am – the first show wouldn’t be for another hours yet and he was one of the representatives of the faire that stood at the entrance of the festival as the customers swarmed in to start their day of recreated medieval fun. With the canon blown and the gates open, he counted down his fifteen minutes until he was allowed to leave the front of the grounds and head toward the back where the jousting court was.
He wasn’t required to smile or be friendly. He bowed his head with simple nods to people and would occasionally wave, but mostly he was quiet, while others around him were overly loud and boisterous. He was told he always looked mad with his thin lips that rarely parted to smile and his blue eyes that were so clear they looked icy. He wasn’t unfriendly, only reserved in a way most weren’t here in the realm of performers.
When he was able to leave the front gates, he took his usual path through the vendors hawking their goods in loud, friendly ways, and the more permanent vendor booths with their employees calling out and flirting for attention. He rode by it all without paying much attention. The one booth that usually made him turn his head was one of the beer gardens. It was still early morning but people, men mostly, were already lined up for beer or coffee with Baileys in it. It never failed; the moment they got in here they started drinking, like they couldn’t have fun unless they were buzzed.
A blonde caught his eye. This was the second weekend of the season with nine to go. He had seen her the previous weekend (opening weekend) and he now found himself riding by the booth whenever he was away from the jousting ring. She was easy enough to spot as she had adorned her body in tattoos. It took him less than a minute to ride by, but for that minute his cool blue eyes took her in. A smile that could dim the sun. Breasts, full and luscious under the wench’s shirt and corset. He watched but he never stopped, never smiled. And, if she looked his way, he would merely nod his head and ride on.
He thought about her, even when he wasn’t riding by. It was crush. It couldn’t be anything more than that. He didn’t know her name, the sound of her voice, or anything. She was just nice to look at. And he wasn’t the only one who thought that. He listened to several of the guys talking about her. Ones that were actually bold enough to go up to her and chat with her, ask her to the fireworks and bonfires after the gates closed. He was not one of those guys able to put him out there so easily. Reserved. It was his curse.
He steered his horse – a chestnut bay with a white star on her forehead – into the stables as he needed to prepare for the first show of the day. He knew the beer garden was adjacent to where they jousted and fought, in sight of where she worked. Though, while performing he was too distracted to know if she ever stopped to watch. Some of the “beer wenches” picked their champions and cheered for them, sometimes even wearing their champion’s colors as a scarf. No one had ever cheered for the red knight. In the show, he was the villain, always defeated in the end by the black or white knight. The blue knight was a crowd favorite, very flashy and flirty, but rarely stopped being flashing or flirty enough to win. The green knight always tried hard, but they were usually a rookie and still learning. His father, Sir Patrick of the Thorn – aka Thorn around the faire – was the white knight, the hero. While the black knight was another talented actor who wooed the crowd and loved to win.
He dismounted the bay and changed his tunic from the red and blue to his red tunic with a black silhouette of a dragon on his chest. He changed from the chestnut bay to his black ‘war horse’ if you will. This was a horse he had chosen for himself when he was ten and trained to work with him perfectly in the ring. Because he wasn’t supposed to win in the end, he needed his horse to know exactly when to pull to the left or right, so he took the fatal blow to the chest or missed his opponent. That was probably the reason he was the red knight; it took a lot more skill to lose than to win.
As he prepared for the first show of the day, he checked his horse, and then his gear. And when the stands were full and the horns sounded, he rose out into the arena to start the show. And that was how his day went – patrol as a “King’s guard” quick change and tunic and horse, perform, take a small break, repeat.
The rest of the shows went smoothly. The red knight was always defeated in the end and now that the final show concluded, the revelry could begin. The knights dismounted from their steeds and disappeared into the darkening faire grounds to drink and frolic. They didn’t have to turn their armor back in to the Thorn at the stables until they were ready to leave the faire grounds. Now came the time for Orion’s third ‘job’ of the day, but it was the most enjoyable.
Orian wasn’t solely responsible for the horses. Each horse had a tender, appointed by Orion’s mother, Lexi, who was a licensed veterinarian and in charge of the stables and staffing them. The tenders, who were also anxious to go have some fun before the faire clothes, stripped the horses of their banners, saddles, and bridles, hanging the tact and playing anything that needed to be washed into a hamper before scampering off themselves.
Now, alone in the stable, his mother and father were in the office attached to the stables to discuss the day. They usually didn’t linger long after the shows ended as they liked to grab dinner together before his mother returned and help Orion wrap up the evening. While they were gone, he took great care washing and brushing the horses until all the sweat and dust was washed away and they were clean. There were six horses that were housed in their stables and all he was responsible for.
Due to the heat, he usually only worked in his leather pants, leather boots, and that thin cotton poet shirt that let him feel the night breeze. Thanks to the water and the sweat of the day, his shirt was almost see through. He left the stable to head to the barn to fill buckets with oats and barely feed.
Heat or not, there was a very specific wardrobe the knights of the faire were required to wear. Leather pants, roomy enough to move well, but not loose enough to be considered baggy. The pants always seemed to tighten on him around the ass and groin as he got sweater from the unbreathing pants. Leather boots, curtesy of one of the more expensive boot makers that had been working with the faire for decades, crafted custom boots for the knights. His boots were black and went up to just below his knee. The sole of the boot was thick with a heavy tread for grip. The boots had black leather lacing up the front that weaved through silver buttons with ornate designs masterfully etched into the sterling silver, which he kept polished to compliment the boots he kept oiled and buffed.
He then adorned himself in a loosely fitted white cotton poet-style shirt. It was soft against his skin and very comfortable – airy and light, open from the collar down to between his chiseled pectoral muscles. Which was promptly covered up with a shirt made of light gray that was quilted and thick to protect the skin against the rubbing of the armor. His suit was custom made for him from a combination of thick leather and shiny steel. The suit was built strategically to protect him from hand-to-hand combat, sword fighting, and the jousting he did as part of his role here at the festival. Over the armor he pulled a tunic of sturdy cotton with large squares of blue and red with the crests of the Renaissance Festival – a gold lion standing on its back paws with its front claws out in an attack pose.
There is a rule at this festival that head covering are REQUIRED. Not suggested, not hinted at, required and for this reason, he then laid a bright red scarf with designs of black swirls and dragons upon his head and gathered the excess at the nape of his neck and used a black ponytail rubber band to hold it together, the tail of the scarf hung down his back to just between his shoulder blades. When he was performing, he was the “red knight”, but currently he was wearing the uniform of the King’s guard that would stroll the festival on horseback between shows to help the security guards.
It was too early for shows yet, it was just opening cannon – 9am – the first show wouldn’t be for another hours yet and he was one of the representatives of the faire that stood at the entrance of the festival as the customers swarmed in to start their day of recreated medieval fun. With the canon blown and the gates open, he counted down his fifteen minutes until he was allowed to leave the front of the grounds and head toward the back where the jousting court was.
He wasn’t required to smile or be friendly. He bowed his head with simple nods to people and would occasionally wave, but mostly he was quiet, while others around him were overly loud and boisterous. He was told he always looked mad with his thin lips that rarely parted to smile and his blue eyes that were so clear they looked icy. He wasn’t unfriendly, only reserved in a way most weren’t here in the realm of performers.
When he was able to leave the front gates, he took his usual path through the vendors hawking their goods in loud, friendly ways, and the more permanent vendor booths with their employees calling out and flirting for attention. He rode by it all without paying much attention. The one booth that usually made him turn his head was one of the beer gardens. It was still early morning but people, men mostly, were already lined up for beer or coffee with Baileys in it. It never failed; the moment they got in here they started drinking, like they couldn’t have fun unless they were buzzed.
A blonde caught his eye. This was the second weekend of the season with nine to go. He had seen her the previous weekend (opening weekend) and he now found himself riding by the booth whenever he was away from the jousting ring. She was easy enough to spot as she had adorned her body in tattoos. It took him less than a minute to ride by, but for that minute his cool blue eyes took her in. A smile that could dim the sun. Breasts, full and luscious under the wench’s shirt and corset. He watched but he never stopped, never smiled. And, if she looked his way, he would merely nod his head and ride on.
He thought about her, even when he wasn’t riding by. It was crush. It couldn’t be anything more than that. He didn’t know her name, the sound of her voice, or anything. She was just nice to look at. And he wasn’t the only one who thought that. He listened to several of the guys talking about her. Ones that were actually bold enough to go up to her and chat with her, ask her to the fireworks and bonfires after the gates closed. He was not one of those guys able to put him out there so easily. Reserved. It was his curse.
He steered his horse – a chestnut bay with a white star on her forehead – into the stables as he needed to prepare for the first show of the day. He knew the beer garden was adjacent to where they jousted and fought, in sight of where she worked. Though, while performing he was too distracted to know if she ever stopped to watch. Some of the “beer wenches” picked their champions and cheered for them, sometimes even wearing their champion’s colors as a scarf. No one had ever cheered for the red knight. In the show, he was the villain, always defeated in the end by the black or white knight. The blue knight was a crowd favorite, very flashy and flirty, but rarely stopped being flashing or flirty enough to win. The green knight always tried hard, but they were usually a rookie and still learning. His father, Sir Patrick of the Thorn – aka Thorn around the faire – was the white knight, the hero. While the black knight was another talented actor who wooed the crowd and loved to win.
He dismounted the bay and changed his tunic from the red and blue to his red tunic with a black silhouette of a dragon on his chest. He changed from the chestnut bay to his black ‘war horse’ if you will. This was a horse he had chosen for himself when he was ten and trained to work with him perfectly in the ring. Because he wasn’t supposed to win in the end, he needed his horse to know exactly when to pull to the left or right, so he took the fatal blow to the chest or missed his opponent. That was probably the reason he was the red knight; it took a lot more skill to lose than to win.
As he prepared for the first show of the day, he checked his horse, and then his gear. And when the stands were full and the horns sounded, he rose out into the arena to start the show. And that was how his day went – patrol as a “King’s guard” quick change and tunic and horse, perform, take a small break, repeat.
The rest of the shows went smoothly. The red knight was always defeated in the end and now that the final show concluded, the revelry could begin. The knights dismounted from their steeds and disappeared into the darkening faire grounds to drink and frolic. They didn’t have to turn their armor back in to the Thorn at the stables until they were ready to leave the faire grounds. Now came the time for Orion’s third ‘job’ of the day, but it was the most enjoyable.
Orian wasn’t solely responsible for the horses. Each horse had a tender, appointed by Orion’s mother, Lexi, who was a licensed veterinarian and in charge of the stables and staffing them. The tenders, who were also anxious to go have some fun before the faire clothes, stripped the horses of their banners, saddles, and bridles, hanging the tact and playing anything that needed to be washed into a hamper before scampering off themselves.
Now, alone in the stable, his mother and father were in the office attached to the stables to discuss the day. They usually didn’t linger long after the shows ended as they liked to grab dinner together before his mother returned and help Orion wrap up the evening. While they were gone, he took great care washing and brushing the horses until all the sweat and dust was washed away and they were clean. There were six horses that were housed in their stables and all he was responsible for.
Due to the heat, he usually only worked in his leather pants, leather boots, and that thin cotton poet shirt that let him feel the night breeze. Thanks to the water and the sweat of the day, his shirt was almost see through. He left the stable to head to the barn to fill buckets with oats and barely feed.
The faire. It wasnt part of the growing plan of the Bennett Family. She was supposed to take over the ranch with her, now, ex fiancé. To run it however he wanted to run it, which would wound up going in the ground with debt. She wasnt going to allow that to happen to her family home. Not to the animals, to her family, none of it. So, to make sure it didnt happen, she ran. Ran as far as the Texas heat could allow her to rin.
Tossing the ring and picking up a bar maiden outfit, it felt almost natural. The opening night of the faire proved that she was a natural at dealing with people. Sure, a lot of men would flirt with her, try to get her to go to the fireworks or walk around the faire on her break. But she politely declined the offers. Some tried harder than others, constantly buying drinks and tipping like it would get them somewhere. But those men werent the ones that had her eye, oh no.
Even since joining the faire, she had her eyes set on what everyone called the villain. The red scarf knight. He would ride by her booth at least once a day. At first she just thought it was an accident, but then she thought it was part of his routine. One she would be more than happy to be apart of. Even if she was too nervous to ever say hi to him.
Once the second weekend hit, she had gotten dressed in the outfit that she would grow to hate. The corset was always cutting into her hips, the heat wasnt kind to all the layers. But it always made her chest look nice and her tattoos pop against her slight tan freckled skin. A smile on her lips was also, part of that uniform she was. Her blonde hair always made her stand out against the other two girls who worked the beer garden. They constantly told the her to pick a knight color to wear around her corset, a scarf or piece of fabric. But she couldnt decided on the first weeke d. Even though she knew it was going to be red. Maybe it was a thing of liking the bad guy.
But the second weekend was proving more interesting. Seeing the red knight ride by again, she halted her hands as she was cleaning a mug. Honey colored eyes glanced up to meet the one brief contact with him. Her fingers wiggling in a small wave before she went back to cleaning the mugs. Not wanting to distract him any more than she probably already did, or hoped. Knowing that the knights were always so busy, she didnt want to interrupt them or cause issues with others around them.
The rest of the shift went without a hitch. Most of the knights came over and flirted like usual, but she simply ignored the flirts. All she wanted to do was sneak off at the end of her shift. Wanting to get a taste of home that she was missing so badly. And the only way was to go near the stables.
So once the sun had set, she tossed in her half apron and replaced it with a cloak, she snuck off from the beer garden. Heading over to where she knew the knights had given up their horses for the night. The stables were usually pretty quiet around this time of night. Everyone was usually leaving the grounds or going to the fireworks. But with her hood up and her cloak blending in with the darkness, she maneuvered herself through the back of the stables.
Not seeing anyone at first, she couldnt help but feel a bit of excitment. Even if she ran into anyone, it wouldnt be the knights that was for sure. Maybe one of the stables workers surely, and she doubted they would care about a simple bar maiden just petting a horse.
Seeing the horses, she couldnt help bit smile as she tip toed her way over to the first one she could find. Head tilted to the side as the warm smile stayed on her face. "Hello handsome..." Her voice was soft as she made her way to one of the horses the was in a stall. Making sure she kept a bit of distance as to not startle the horse. She was a new face after all. Plus, she assumed she was alone in there, so she would take her time letting the horse get use to her.
Tossing the ring and picking up a bar maiden outfit, it felt almost natural. The opening night of the faire proved that she was a natural at dealing with people. Sure, a lot of men would flirt with her, try to get her to go to the fireworks or walk around the faire on her break. But she politely declined the offers. Some tried harder than others, constantly buying drinks and tipping like it would get them somewhere. But those men werent the ones that had her eye, oh no.
Even since joining the faire, she had her eyes set on what everyone called the villain. The red scarf knight. He would ride by her booth at least once a day. At first she just thought it was an accident, but then she thought it was part of his routine. One she would be more than happy to be apart of. Even if she was too nervous to ever say hi to him.
Once the second weekend hit, she had gotten dressed in the outfit that she would grow to hate. The corset was always cutting into her hips, the heat wasnt kind to all the layers. But it always made her chest look nice and her tattoos pop against her slight tan freckled skin. A smile on her lips was also, part of that uniform she was. Her blonde hair always made her stand out against the other two girls who worked the beer garden. They constantly told the her to pick a knight color to wear around her corset, a scarf or piece of fabric. But she couldnt decided on the first weeke d. Even though she knew it was going to be red. Maybe it was a thing of liking the bad guy.
But the second weekend was proving more interesting. Seeing the red knight ride by again, she halted her hands as she was cleaning a mug. Honey colored eyes glanced up to meet the one brief contact with him. Her fingers wiggling in a small wave before she went back to cleaning the mugs. Not wanting to distract him any more than she probably already did, or hoped. Knowing that the knights were always so busy, she didnt want to interrupt them or cause issues with others around them.
The rest of the shift went without a hitch. Most of the knights came over and flirted like usual, but she simply ignored the flirts. All she wanted to do was sneak off at the end of her shift. Wanting to get a taste of home that she was missing so badly. And the only way was to go near the stables.
So once the sun had set, she tossed in her half apron and replaced it with a cloak, she snuck off from the beer garden. Heading over to where she knew the knights had given up their horses for the night. The stables were usually pretty quiet around this time of night. Everyone was usually leaving the grounds or going to the fireworks. But with her hood up and her cloak blending in with the darkness, she maneuvered herself through the back of the stables.
Not seeing anyone at first, she couldnt help but feel a bit of excitment. Even if she ran into anyone, it wouldnt be the knights that was for sure. Maybe one of the stables workers surely, and she doubted they would care about a simple bar maiden just petting a horse.
Seeing the horses, she couldnt help bit smile as she tip toed her way over to the first one she could find. Head tilted to the side as the warm smile stayed on her face. "Hello handsome..." Her voice was soft as she made her way to one of the horses the was in a stall. Making sure she kept a bit of distance as to not startle the horse. She was a new face after all. Plus, she assumed she was alone in there, so she would take her time letting the horse get use to her.
His short blonde hair was a mess from the all the sweat accumulated throughout the hot day. It was smashed down on some parts of his head, while other part of it stuck up in all directions. He didn't really care. Anyone who worked here knew head coverings were a must and that crazy hair was an aftereffect.
He opened the airtight binds where the feed was kept and using a large plastic scoop, he dug into the feed and started filling two five gallon buckets. After all the sword fighting, wrestling, jousting, and washing and bushing of the horses his arms felt like wet spaghetti noodles, the muscles fatigued to the point they threatened to give out.
With the two buckets full, he sealed the feed and grabbed the handles on the buckets. He picked them up from the ground, elbows locked and muscles tight. It wasn't a long walk from the barn to the stables, fifty yards or so, but when you're carrying that much extra weight, it felt like three times that.
He didn't expect to find anyone in the stables when he arrived back - most people announced themselves or were making some kind of noise. All was silent except the usual noises that were made by the horses.
He set down one of the buckets and carried the other toward the first of the stalls. As he was coming up on the chestnut bay's stall - the horse he rode while on patrol as the King's guard - he caught a flash of color that wasn't normally in the stables. He craned his neck to get a better look and when he saw someone there he dropped the bucket.
When the heavy bucket hit the ground it made a rather loud 'THUP' sound. Before Orion could take another look, a severe acute pain radiated from just below his knee accompanied by a blow forceful enough to knock his leg out from under his and send him crashing into a rack of brushes and supplies used to clean the horses.
His leg was on fire! He shook his head and looked up from the spot he landed on the wood floor. He had been just sweaty and wet from when he bathed the horses that all means of dirt, dust, and hay stuck to him. He blinked a few times, not forgetting about the intruder, but more curious about what had hit him.
In the stall just in front of him was Bandit. A young paint horse with a mean streak and was quick to spook; that's who had kicked him. Grumbling to himself, Orion started to climb to his feet.
He opened the airtight binds where the feed was kept and using a large plastic scoop, he dug into the feed and started filling two five gallon buckets. After all the sword fighting, wrestling, jousting, and washing and bushing of the horses his arms felt like wet spaghetti noodles, the muscles fatigued to the point they threatened to give out.
With the two buckets full, he sealed the feed and grabbed the handles on the buckets. He picked them up from the ground, elbows locked and muscles tight. It wasn't a long walk from the barn to the stables, fifty yards or so, but when you're carrying that much extra weight, it felt like three times that.
He didn't expect to find anyone in the stables when he arrived back - most people announced themselves or were making some kind of noise. All was silent except the usual noises that were made by the horses.
He set down one of the buckets and carried the other toward the first of the stalls. As he was coming up on the chestnut bay's stall - the horse he rode while on patrol as the King's guard - he caught a flash of color that wasn't normally in the stables. He craned his neck to get a better look and when he saw someone there he dropped the bucket.
When the heavy bucket hit the ground it made a rather loud 'THUP' sound. Before Orion could take another look, a severe acute pain radiated from just below his knee accompanied by a blow forceful enough to knock his leg out from under his and send him crashing into a rack of brushes and supplies used to clean the horses.
His leg was on fire! He shook his head and looked up from the spot he landed on the wood floor. He had been just sweaty and wet from when he bathed the horses that all means of dirt, dust, and hay stuck to him. He blinked a few times, not forgetting about the intruder, but more curious about what had hit him.
In the stall just in front of him was Bandit. A young paint horse with a mean streak and was quick to spook; that's who had kicked him. Grumbling to himself, Orion started to climb to his feet.
Small hands brushed over the nose of the horse that was sticking its head out. A small smile formed on the blondes face the moment the horse nudged her for more pets. She had been missing home ever since she got in a taxi and left. Only carrying a couple change of clothes and an envelope full of cash to get her started. It was all she could carry when she left the ranch for a better life. One away from her ex.
But as she was solely focused on the horse, she was oblivious to her surroundings. Especially someone walking into the stables to take care of the horses. Her whole attention was on the horse in front of her. Everything else faded into the background as she reconnected with her roots. Growing up around animals, she knew how to deal with them in most situations.
But, the moment she heard something fall, her head snapped in that direction. Eyes narrowing a bit before she heard something tumble to the ground. Going to shrug it off, she turned toward the horse who was equally as spoke. Normally her father broke in the horses and desensitized them to the outside world. So when the horse lifted onto its hind legs, Josephine stumbled back.
"Calm.. calm down. Im not gonna..–" As she kept taking steps back, she didnt realize there was a water trough right behind her. Hands up to show the horse she meant no harm, she took one more step back till she was looking up at the ceiling of the stables.
The whole bar maiden outfit immediately grew cold and soaked in the water she had falling backwards in. The bottom of her blonde hair turning an almost dirty blonde with the color of the water. There was a slight scream when she fell into the water, but she was more so cussing herself for getting stuck.
Gripping the edge of the metal trough, she tried her best to push herself out. But the weight of the bar maiden outfit now completely soaked, was making it hard for her to pull herself out. "Help? Anyone?" A blush came to her cheeks, knowing that whomever was in there was going to see someone that shouldn't be in there.
But as she was solely focused on the horse, she was oblivious to her surroundings. Especially someone walking into the stables to take care of the horses. Her whole attention was on the horse in front of her. Everything else faded into the background as she reconnected with her roots. Growing up around animals, she knew how to deal with them in most situations.
But, the moment she heard something fall, her head snapped in that direction. Eyes narrowing a bit before she heard something tumble to the ground. Going to shrug it off, she turned toward the horse who was equally as spoke. Normally her father broke in the horses and desensitized them to the outside world. So when the horse lifted onto its hind legs, Josephine stumbled back.
"Calm.. calm down. Im not gonna..–" As she kept taking steps back, she didnt realize there was a water trough right behind her. Hands up to show the horse she meant no harm, she took one more step back till she was looking up at the ceiling of the stables.
The whole bar maiden outfit immediately grew cold and soaked in the water she had falling backwards in. The bottom of her blonde hair turning an almost dirty blonde with the color of the water. There was a slight scream when she fell into the water, but she was more so cussing herself for getting stuck.
Gripping the edge of the metal trough, she tried her best to push herself out. But the weight of the bar maiden outfit now completely soaked, was making it hard for her to pull herself out. "Help? Anyone?" A blush came to her cheeks, knowing that whomever was in there was going to see someone that shouldn't be in there.
He missed the sound splashing water as his ears had been ringing from getting kicked by the damn horse. He got to his feet and gingerly put pressure on the leg that was still throbbing like crazy. He dreaded looking at it. He didn't think the collision of steel lined horse hoof and leather clad pants split his skin, but he really wouldn't know until he could look at it.
Looking at his leg would take a lot more effort than he was willing to give it. He would have to unwrap the leather binding his boot to his leg to get to his pants that were underneath the boot. Then there would be the fight with the leather pants themselves that liked to stick to him like a second skin. No, he would deal with his leg later.
He had just dismissed the idea of looking at the injury when he heard the call for help. His head turned in the direction of the sound of water and failed efforts that were being made to get out of the water. He hurried over to the trough, favoring his still pulsing leg, and grabbed both the outreached hands with his. He hauled her out of the trough and then stepped back to give her space.
"Are you hurt?" he asked as concern colored his tone. He looked from the chestnut bay's stall back to the woman who was completely soaked, the cloak she wore was little more than a wet blanket now.
His mind was instantly running scenarios that could have caused her to fall and which them, his family, could be liable for. "What happened?" he asked as he finally looked at her face and then he paled.
It was her, the bar maiden he stared at when he passed the beer garden. He wasn't wearing the red head wrap or any of his costuming that might make him recognizable. Maybe she wouldn't know who he was. Maybe he could be like the guy in that play Cyrano de Bergerac and steer her interest towards the red knight, which was himself. Okay, it wasn't exactly like that play, but it was the play that had inspired the notion.
Looking at his leg would take a lot more effort than he was willing to give it. He would have to unwrap the leather binding his boot to his leg to get to his pants that were underneath the boot. Then there would be the fight with the leather pants themselves that liked to stick to him like a second skin. No, he would deal with his leg later.
He had just dismissed the idea of looking at the injury when he heard the call for help. His head turned in the direction of the sound of water and failed efforts that were being made to get out of the water. He hurried over to the trough, favoring his still pulsing leg, and grabbed both the outreached hands with his. He hauled her out of the trough and then stepped back to give her space.
"Are you hurt?" he asked as concern colored his tone. He looked from the chestnut bay's stall back to the woman who was completely soaked, the cloak she wore was little more than a wet blanket now.
His mind was instantly running scenarios that could have caused her to fall and which them, his family, could be liable for. "What happened?" he asked as he finally looked at her face and then he paled.
It was her, the bar maiden he stared at when he passed the beer garden. He wasn't wearing the red head wrap or any of his costuming that might make him recognizable. Maybe she wouldn't know who he was. Maybe he could be like the guy in that play Cyrano de Bergerac and steer her interest towards the red knight, which was himself. Okay, it wasn't exactly like that play, but it was the play that had inspired the notion.
Now she was really considering her life choices. She had thrown away a life at the ranch to run away with the faire. Yet, she wasnt fully regretting it. Even if she was submerged in a water trough and was struggling to get herself out of it. The weight of her cloak, the clothes, all of it added a coupke extra pounds to try and pull out. Her only hope was someone had heard her and was willing to yank her out.
The moment she looked up and saw someone coming near her, she immediately felt her cheeks and neck grow warm. Of course the person who would rescue her would be someone so attractive that she would become embarrassed about being in the trough and completely soak.
Holding onto his rough and warm hands, she allowed him to pull her out of the hole she was stuck in. Water dripping from her cloak and dress, creating a puddle on the ground under her. As much as she tried to just play it off, the blush on her cheeks was just intensifying by the second. Especially with his questions and asking if she was alright.
Taking off her cloak, she brought it to the side as her clothes seemed to cling to her form. Ringing out the cloak, she nervously laughed with a shrug. "Uh the horse got spooked by something falling and I took way too many steps back." She looked up, honey eyes glancing over at him before quickly looking away. Not recognizing him since ehe wasnt wearing his coverings. But he was cute and that made her even more flustered.
Taking a deep breath, she flung the wet cloak over her shoulder before grabbing the bottom of her dress. Twisting it up as she rang out more water onto the ground. "I know I shouldn't be back here..." She began as she kept her eyes on the task at hand. The only way for her to get a sentence out without melting. "I just missed home and the horses reminded me of home."
The moment she looked up and saw someone coming near her, she immediately felt her cheeks and neck grow warm. Of course the person who would rescue her would be someone so attractive that she would become embarrassed about being in the trough and completely soak.
Holding onto his rough and warm hands, she allowed him to pull her out of the hole she was stuck in. Water dripping from her cloak and dress, creating a puddle on the ground under her. As much as she tried to just play it off, the blush on her cheeks was just intensifying by the second. Especially with his questions and asking if she was alright.
Taking off her cloak, she brought it to the side as her clothes seemed to cling to her form. Ringing out the cloak, she nervously laughed with a shrug. "Uh the horse got spooked by something falling and I took way too many steps back." She looked up, honey eyes glancing over at him before quickly looking away. Not recognizing him since ehe wasnt wearing his coverings. But he was cute and that made her even more flustered.
Taking a deep breath, she flung the wet cloak over her shoulder before grabbing the bottom of her dress. Twisting it up as she rang out more water onto the ground. "I know I shouldn't be back here..." She began as she kept her eyes on the task at hand. The only way for her to get a sentence out without melting. "I just missed home and the horses reminded me of home."
It was his turn to have his cheeks flush in a slight blush. "Yeah, that thing that fell was me." He bit his lower lip as one of his hands lifted to run his fingers through his tousled hair.
He watched the cloak leave her shoulders, the 'wench's top' (the cut of the shirt) was off the shoulders and the corset was tied tight so it pushed up her chest in the best way. He knew he had seen her before, several times by this point, but up close was different. Up close was... breathtaking.
He had to make himself peel his eyes away from her form. Her wet clothes were giving away a good majority of her secrets. He had to prevent himself from examining the curve of her hips that was hinted at by the skirt but now was more obvious. Her legs as well. Muscled in the thigh like an experienced rider would have.
He needed to stop his leering. "When I got startled by you, I dropped a feed bucket, which spooked Bandit, that paint over there, and he kicked him. Hence the falling down." He tried to be causal about it, like he wasn't in pain, or completely humiliated.
As she started to work the water out of her skirt he got an idea. He saw his clean red tunic and shirt for the next day hanging on the hook for his costuming. He glanced at her and said coyly, "You can't walk across the grounds in those wet clothes. We have things here." He motioned towards some changing stalls where the knights dressed in the mornings. "I can dry your clothes for you."
He watched the cloak leave her shoulders, the 'wench's top' (the cut of the shirt) was off the shoulders and the corset was tied tight so it pushed up her chest in the best way. He knew he had seen her before, several times by this point, but up close was different. Up close was... breathtaking.
He had to make himself peel his eyes away from her form. Her wet clothes were giving away a good majority of her secrets. He had to prevent himself from examining the curve of her hips that was hinted at by the skirt but now was more obvious. Her legs as well. Muscled in the thigh like an experienced rider would have.
He needed to stop his leering. "When I got startled by you, I dropped a feed bucket, which spooked Bandit, that paint over there, and he kicked him. Hence the falling down." He tried to be causal about it, like he wasn't in pain, or completely humiliated.
As she started to work the water out of her skirt he got an idea. He saw his clean red tunic and shirt for the next day hanging on the hook for his costuming. He glanced at her and said coyly, "You can't walk across the grounds in those wet clothes. We have things here." He motioned towards some changing stalls where the knights dressed in the mornings. "I can dry your clothes for you."
Seeing him blush, it was the cutest thing she had ever seen. Not realizing a man could blush like that and get slightly embarrassed with falling. It made her own cheeks flush even more, creeping up to her ears and the back of her neck. Luckily, she was ringing out her clothes still, so she was a bit distracted.
Even as his eyes had fallen upon her, taking in her own appearance, she was none the wiser. Just paying attention to getting water out of her outfit. Knowing it was going to take a lot then her hands squeezing thr water out. More like, changing out of it and hanging it out in the sun to dry.
But the mention of him getting kicked by a horse made her cringe a bit. She had had her fair share of horse kicks growing up. And which him not limping around like he wasnt in complete pain. Tilting her head to the side as her eyes trailed down to his legs. Wondering which one had been kicked and then realizing one of his pants legs seemed to be dirtier than the other.
Her mouth opened to speak before he brought up her wet clothes. Sure, it would be uncomfortable to walk the grounds in soaking wet clothes that add about ten more pounds to lug around with her. So she quickly closed her mouth and actually thought about it.
"Okay okay. But after I'm changed, then we check out that leg okay?" Her eyes followed where he motioned to before feeling a little bit of dread hit her. Would she be covered in knights clothes? That would definitely be something she didnt want to go. Then all the girls at rhe faire would be talking.
But what if they didn't realize it was her? Giving him a pleasant smile, she gave a nod and waited for him to lead the way. Anything, honestly, would be better than the soaking wet clothes she was currently wearing.
Even as his eyes had fallen upon her, taking in her own appearance, she was none the wiser. Just paying attention to getting water out of her outfit. Knowing it was going to take a lot then her hands squeezing thr water out. More like, changing out of it and hanging it out in the sun to dry.
But the mention of him getting kicked by a horse made her cringe a bit. She had had her fair share of horse kicks growing up. And which him not limping around like he wasnt in complete pain. Tilting her head to the side as her eyes trailed down to his legs. Wondering which one had been kicked and then realizing one of his pants legs seemed to be dirtier than the other.
Her mouth opened to speak before he brought up her wet clothes. Sure, it would be uncomfortable to walk the grounds in soaking wet clothes that add about ten more pounds to lug around with her. So she quickly closed her mouth and actually thought about it.
"Okay okay. But after I'm changed, then we check out that leg okay?" Her eyes followed where he motioned to before feeling a little bit of dread hit her. Would she be covered in knights clothes? That would definitely be something she didnt want to go. Then all the girls at rhe faire would be talking.
But what if they didn't realize it was her? Giving him a pleasant smile, she gave a nod and waited for him to lead the way. Anything, honestly, would be better than the soaking wet clothes she was currently wearing.
As stoic as he was when he was standing still, the throbbing in his leg was not going to allow him to walk through the stalls and around the corner to the changing rooms without limping. He turned to lead her away from the water trough and around the stables, him favoring his leg quite noticeably. He hammed up the limp a little, not for attention but because it would cover up his identity a little longer.
When they arrived at the changing room he grabbed the shirt and red tunic with the black silhouette of the dragon on it. It was the only set that had been put out yet - put out by himself - as everything else was either being washed or was still waiting to be hung by their knight.
He pushed the white, soft cotton poet shirt towards her. He estimated it should cover all of her, hanging to about mid thigh. The tunic wouldn't be necessary except for the low dipping neck, that if not covered, could reveal her breasts. "The only clothes available right now are the red knights." He grinned sheepishly, "Are you okay with being the bad guy for a little bit?"
When they arrived at the changing room he grabbed the shirt and red tunic with the black silhouette of the dragon on it. It was the only set that had been put out yet - put out by himself - as everything else was either being washed or was still waiting to be hung by their knight.
He pushed the white, soft cotton poet shirt towards her. He estimated it should cover all of her, hanging to about mid thigh. The tunic wouldn't be necessary except for the low dipping neck, that if not covered, could reveal her breasts. "The only clothes available right now are the red knights." He grinned sheepishly, "Are you okay with being the bad guy for a little bit?"
Seeing that limp, she really wanted to sit down and look at his leg. Seeing a bunch of wounds growing up on the ranch, she could at least wrap his leg as best as possible. Compress it so the swelling would die down just a bit. But she didnt say anything as she followed along to the dressing area for the knights. Honey eyes constantly flickering toward him before landing on the red knight outfit.
Would he mind her wearing it?! Her cheeks began to burn even more at the idea of actually wearing red knights clothes. The twins at rhe booth wanted to give her a color to wear, and she wanted to wear red. Maybe add a red streak in her hair for the red knight. Always having a thing for the bad boy. In her mind, she thought he was just the misunderstood knight. The other knights were just extremely cocky, flirty and in your face. The red knight, to her, seemed humble. Keeping to himself and only giving that slight nod anytime he rode by.
Grabbing the clothes with her shaking hands, she gave a smile before nodding. "It is a good thing I like the bad guys." Giggling nervously, she felt rhe fabric between her fingers. How the material felt against her soft skin, almost turning it rough in nature. "But... are you sure the red knight wouldnt mind?"
Looking around, she kept a hold of the shirt and tunic before gulping a bit. If she were caught by the red knight, not knowing he was in front of her, she would be absolutely mortified. Not wanting to ever look at the red knight again if that would happen.
Would he mind her wearing it?! Her cheeks began to burn even more at the idea of actually wearing red knights clothes. The twins at rhe booth wanted to give her a color to wear, and she wanted to wear red. Maybe add a red streak in her hair for the red knight. Always having a thing for the bad boy. In her mind, she thought he was just the misunderstood knight. The other knights were just extremely cocky, flirty and in your face. The red knight, to her, seemed humble. Keeping to himself and only giving that slight nod anytime he rode by.
Grabbing the clothes with her shaking hands, she gave a smile before nodding. "It is a good thing I like the bad guys." Giggling nervously, she felt rhe fabric between her fingers. How the material felt against her soft skin, almost turning it rough in nature. "But... are you sure the red knight wouldnt mind?"
Looking around, she kept a hold of the shirt and tunic before gulping a bit. If she were caught by the red knight, not knowing he was in front of her, she would be absolutely mortified. Not wanting to ever look at the red knight again if that would happen.
His icy blue eyes caught the shaking of her hands as she took the garments that he offered to her. He wondered why her would be nervous about taking clothes – true they belonged to someone else, but they were being offered to her. Granted she didn’t know he offered her his own clothes, but it gave him the opportunity to sell his deception that he was just a stable boy and the red knight was… He needed to find that out – who was the red knight to her.
He didn’t want to wave off her worry but used her worry to bait a hook. With a small smile he said, “I don’t think he would mind if you borrow them,” he emphasized the word ‘you’ to plant the seed that she might be the only one he didn’t mind borrowing his clothes. “He’s talked about you before.” He stopped himself from going on and possibly giving himself away.
He went to stand next to the door to the changing room. He pointed to a basket that was positioned in a corner, “You can put your wet clothes in there. I can throw them in the washer and dryer for you.” He glanced over his shoulder and then back to her, “Once you change, I’ll let you look at my leg.” He would take her away from the stables and to the onsite infirmary. They, maybe, had fifteen to twenty minutes before the other knights came by the check in their gear and costumes so they could go off and frolic at the campsite that was about half a mile off the faire grounds.
He didn’t want to wave off her worry but used her worry to bait a hook. With a small smile he said, “I don’t think he would mind if you borrow them,” he emphasized the word ‘you’ to plant the seed that she might be the only one he didn’t mind borrowing his clothes. “He’s talked about you before.” He stopped himself from going on and possibly giving himself away.
He went to stand next to the door to the changing room. He pointed to a basket that was positioned in a corner, “You can put your wet clothes in there. I can throw them in the washer and dryer for you.” He glanced over his shoulder and then back to her, “Once you change, I’ll let you look at my leg.” He would take her away from the stables and to the onsite infirmary. They, maybe, had fifteen to twenty minutes before the other knights came by the check in their gear and costumes so they could go off and frolic at the campsite that was about half a mile off the faire grounds.
With the clothes in hand, she couldnt stop feeling the favric. The rough material gliding against her spft fingers almost made her blush. True, the past two weekends at the faire she had a crush on the red knight. Always stopping what she was doing to look at him as he passed. A smile planted on her face, though he always say the blush that lingered on her freckled cheeks. No other knight that came to the garden ever got to see it.
But the mention of him talking about her made her honey colored eyes light up. Quickly tossing the cloak in the basket before giggling softly to herself. "He... talks about me? There isnt much to talk about really. Im still nee here." Looking back at the clothes in her hands before looking over at the stables boy who seemed to be in pain still.
Walking over to him, she quickly grabbed his shoulders and spun him around ao his back was facing the changing room. She did not need him watching her change into the shirt and tunic. So, once his back was turned then, and only then, dod she began to undress out of the wet clothes. The sound of soaked fabric hitting the basket every so often before she finally spoke once again.
Throwing on the shirt and tunic, it definitely went to above her knees. Mimicking almost a small modern dress because of the height difference between the two. Once she was fully dressed, she began braiding her wet blonde hair and walked over next to him. Her brown boots clearly shown now and definitely worn down from years of use.
"Alright, lets go take a look at this leg. And maybe i can buy you a drink? I feel bad I startled you." Laughing a bit nervously as she finished with her long braid, flipping it off her shoulder before placing her hands behind her back. "im Josephine by the way. Since im going to be looking at your leg, might as well know my name."
But the mention of him talking about her made her honey colored eyes light up. Quickly tossing the cloak in the basket before giggling softly to herself. "He... talks about me? There isnt much to talk about really. Im still nee here." Looking back at the clothes in her hands before looking over at the stables boy who seemed to be in pain still.
Walking over to him, she quickly grabbed his shoulders and spun him around ao his back was facing the changing room. She did not need him watching her change into the shirt and tunic. So, once his back was turned then, and only then, dod she began to undress out of the wet clothes. The sound of soaked fabric hitting the basket every so often before she finally spoke once again.
Throwing on the shirt and tunic, it definitely went to above her knees. Mimicking almost a small modern dress because of the height difference between the two. Once she was fully dressed, she began braiding her wet blonde hair and walked over next to him. Her brown boots clearly shown now and definitely worn down from years of use.
"Alright, lets go take a look at this leg. And maybe i can buy you a drink? I feel bad I startled you." Laughing a bit nervously as she finished with her long braid, flipping it off her shoulder before placing her hands behind her back. "im Josephine by the way. Since im going to be looking at your leg, might as well know my name."
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