Good news! I'm not dead!

Okay, so I'll give a better explanation in my next 'Hoist the Colors High' update, but mostly I was just unable to work on FanFic for a while. But now I can, so I am. Be advised, I am currently making arrangements so periodic updates will be made within 24-hour periods so this won't happen again.

Just a little one shot, hope you like it! :)

"You're an idiot."

"I know you are but what am I?"

Madeline pinched the bridge of her nose wearily. "For the last time, Alfred, that's not how it's meant to be used."

Alfred pouted. "It's a good idea, though. Come on, Maddie. The only reason I'm as good as I am is because you helped me practice."

"Only because you made everyone else black and blue," quipped Madeline sharply. "This is idiotic. Just withdraw from the tournament."

"I can't," whined Alfred. "You know what dad said. Either come back with a medal or don't come back at all."

Madeline opened her mouth to snap that it was his own fault, but closed it again. Alfred might be silly in the extreme, clumsy, and completely useless in social situations, but he meant well. Their father's anger had sprouted from one incident too many. Never mind that he had still gained the favor of the king's youngest child, and his only daughter. Madeline was the only one privy to how exactly that had happened, as it was a mystery to everyone else. Despite the fact that the kingdom's only princess had made it clear she'd made her decision, Lord Jones still had little patience for his son's shenanigans.

Said shenanigans had landed Alfred in trouble once again. Madeline had accompanied her brother to the fief's tenement, as she always did, both to support Alfred and to help him in loo of servants their father refused to send with them. They were hardly the poorest of the kingdom's noble families, but their father was the biggest miser of the bunch. The fact that neither of his children shared his values had done little to raise his already low opinion of them.

"It's hardly my fault you decided to climb onto that second story roof," Madeline informed him tartly. Alfred's effort to retrieve a kite from a very steep roof had resulted in him injuring both an ankle and an arm. It would be weeks before he could even pick up a sword again, never mind joust. Hence their current predicament.

"What kind of hero would I be if I didn't help kids?"

Before Madeline could come up with a angry enough reply, the flap of their tent was dashed open. Both twins turned, Madeline moving to stand between her brother's cot and the cloaked figure. "Who are you? What-

The tattered hood was shoved back, and Madeline fell silent. Wordlessly she stepped aside. Alfred propped himself up on his good elbow, and gave a shamefaced smile. "Hey Ally," he said weakly.

Princess Alice frowned at him, propping fists on hips. "What did you do this time you bloody git? The only reason I allowed father to drag me here at all was because you were supposed to be in the tournament. You know I hate these things. What was so bloody important you had to go and get yourself hurt for it?"

"Two boys had gotten their kite stuck on a very high roof," provided Madeline.

Alice pinched the bridge of her nose. "For pities sake, Alfred. You need to be in this tournament. Things are rocky enough with your father already. What's more, we have diplomats here from Saxon. They're expecting you to compete."

"Saxon?" asked Alfred, frowning.

"The country on our eastern border," Madeline reminded him patently.

"Right. I have an awesome plan, though."

Alice raised her sizable eyebrows. "And what, pray tell, is that?"

"He wants me to compete," said Madeline dryly.

The princess frowned. "I'd ask if you were serious but that does sound like something you'd come up with." Pursing her lips for a moment, she regarded Madeline. "Mmm, you're close to the same size, at least."

Madeline's jaw dropped. "You can't seriously be considering this," she spluttered. "I'm not a knight!"

"If this was a sword fighting tournament I'd agree with you. But this is a jousting tournament. If handled right I think we can pull it off. Especially if you have me helping. Besides, you are still his training partner of choice, are you not?"

"That's just because no one else wants to," grumbled Madeline. "And I get knocked off a lot."

"No one wants to because they turn black and blue. Alfred is an exceptional jouster. I've seen you two practice, Madeline. I believe you can do well enough to fool the crowd. Besides, unless you come in first place then you won't have to remove your helmet."

Madeline slowly sank onto the foot of Alfred's cot. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?" she asked wearily.

"I'm afraid not. Now come on, we have work to do."

BREAK/BREAK\BREAK

"Remind me again why you were so quick to help?" asked Madeline, holding still as the princess puttered around her.

Alice chuckled, securing the last strap holding Alfred's breast plate in place. "I know what the opinion of that old fool means to Alfred. It doesn't matter if there are precious few people in the whole kingdom who can best him in a fight, I don't think he'll ever win your fathers full approval."

"I know," said Madeline gloomily. "He ignores me, for the most part. I guess I'm lucky. If he didn't he'd he worse to me than he is to Alfred. If he knew I helped him train...

"He'd lock you in a tower and throw away the key," mused Alice, securing the grieves. "At least that's what Alfred said. I appreciate all you do for him."

"You mean like fighting in a tournament in his place to save face?" asked Madeline dryly.

"I'll have my special bruise salve ready for you once it's done," Alice assured her.

Madeline grimaced. "It can't be any worse that what I get when I practice with Alfred."

The main problem with her brother was that he had a massive amount of strength, and it was rare he seemed to be aware of it. Knocking a man of arms off his horse at full speed broke ribs, or at least it had the one time the young knight had put his full effort into it. Madeline seemed to be immune to it, though few knew it was because she possessed a similar strength. As such, while she was knocked clean off her horse, she would only get a few bruises from it.

At least it would be virtually impossible for anyone to spot the switch. Madeline was only an inch shorter than her brother's six foot two height, but it mattered little as she would be on horseback. She defiantly didn't have her brother's broad shouldered, muscular figure, but it would be hidden by the armor. They both had sky-blue eyes and wheat-blond hair, and if she wanted to Madeline was sure she could mimic her brother's voice. So long as she spoke little and kept her helmet on, she was sure no one would notice.

"Remember, ride by me to get a token when you first come out," Alice was saying, securing the sword belt at Madeline's waist. "You have to keep in character. Wave to the pretty ladies, bow to father and the delegates, all that. Got it?"

"Got it. Why are there delegates from Saxon, anyway? It's the first I've heard of them."

"Father's idea, I'm afraid. They're renewing the treaty between our countries. From what I understand they're also hoping to arrange a marriage between the eldest son and one of our nobles. Father would have given me to him, but I told him if he even mentioned the idea to King Germania I'd challenge him to a dual for the throne."

Madeline chuckled. Alice had a mind of her own, a side effect of having four rowdy older brothers. What's more, the man she was all but betrothed too had earned her affections by teaching her how to wield a sword. That the king had refused to duel her was no doubt as much because he feared losing as it was he feared hurting her.

"Isn't the younger son already married?"

"Yes, to one of the princesses of the Italia kingdom to the south. They're not here today, only the king and the eldest prince. Now, what do you think?"

Alice stepped back to admire her handy work. Alfred took her words as the cue to peek around the parting curtain. He grinned at his sister, carefully swinging his legs over the edge of the cot. "Not bad. Put on the helmet and you could be me."

"That's the idea, git," Alice informed him tartly.

"You're sure Freedom won't throw me?" asked Madeline uneasily.

Freedom, Alfred's battle horse, was very well trained and very loyal. Anyone not his master was bucked off with extreme prejudice. Madeline and Alice were the sole exceptions to this, but even then it had been when they were riding the gelding at the same time as Alfred. While she was sure the battle horse wouldn't throw her, Madeline was starting to get anxious.

"Nah, you give him too many apples," said Alfred, grinning. "He's too smart to throw you. Just remember, no spurs. He will throw you if you use those. Voice commands only."

Alfred fancied himself an animal whisperer, of sorts. Madeline doubted this, but he had trained his battle horse to respond without spurs. Frankly she didn't blame the horse, as they were no doubt painful.

"Enough stalling," Alice scolded, standing up on her toes to secure the helmet over her head. "You need to go."

Madeline leaned forward a little, grimacing as the metal of the helmet scraped down over the mettle of the pins holding her blond locks in place. When she straightened, she took a deep breath, resting a hand on the sword hilt. Deepening her voice, she asked in as chipper a tone as she could manage, "Do I look like a hero, Ally?"

Alfred laughed while Alice scowled. "I think you've got it. Now shoo."

"If anyone asks I'm the crippled servant," said Alfred, lurching upright. He kept his bad foot off the ground, keeping his balance with a crutch under his good arm. The ill fated fall had fractured his left ankle and broken his right arm. The leg was still splinted, the arm in a sling. He was wearing his oldest, rattiest clothes and an oversized hooded cloak.

Rather than argue, Madeline turned and strode out. Pulling up the hood, he hobbled after her. Alice watched them go with a wry smile before donning her own cloak, slipping out of the tent.

BREAK/BREAK\BREAK

"Easy boy, that's it."

"Alfred?" asked Madeline in a strained voice, gripping the reins tightly

"You're fine, you're fine. He's just getting in the spirit, that's all. I'm usually this antsy too, remember?"

Madeline wished this spirit didn't involve so much shifting and hoof stomping. Freedom shook out his main, blowing as Alfred gave his nose a final pat. The massive battle horse gave a final snort, and started forward as Alfred hobbled out of the way.

"Good luck, Maddie."

"Thanks," she said weakly, taking deep breaths. She reached up with a gauntleted hand, shoving down the visor.

Freedom left the stall, falling into line with the rest of the horses without much guidance from her. Madeline tried to focus on breathing, the sounds echoing under the helmet, hear heart pounding. She knew Alfred and Alice wouldn't have let her out here unless they were convinced they could fool everyone, but she was still giddy with nerves. Alfred's armor was heavier than the stuff she wore to practice in, Freedom taller and broader than her own mount. Oddly enough, going head to head with knights who were supposedly the best jousters in the fief didn't bother her much. If she could hold her own against Alfred, she could handle them. No, getting found out was much more concerning.

Freedom all but pranced out into the ring, where the gathered crowd was roaring. As they joined the other knights in the obligatory round around the ring, Madeline guided Freedom over to the royal box. When she peeked around she could see many of the other knights doing the same, collecting favors from their ladies. Several had more than one. At one point Alfred had envied them, but of late he took more pride in whatever Alice marked him with than any number of handkerchiefs from other ladies. He actually turned others down, ignoring all other offers.

Madeline reigned in Freedom, extending a hand out and up towards Alice. The princess stood at the edge of the box, the picture of regality. As she secured the green veil to the strap of the offered gauntlet, Madeline bowed her head in respect. Alice met her eyes briefly when she was done, giving her a reassuring nod as the other girl reclaimed her hand.

Urging Freedom forward once more, she completed her circle and joined the line forming before the royal box, finally looking passed the wall encircling the ring. Alice had returned to her seat by her father, who was joined by two others. One was a tall, weathered man with long blond hair and a fierce blue gaze. Obvious King Germania. His eldest son sat at his side, looking a little bored. He was very odd indeed, with hair as white as new fallen snow and eyes like pure cut rubies.

Swallowing hard, Madeline lowered her timbre as much as she could, joining the other knights in the half bow from the saddle. "Hail, your majesty."

The king stood, spread his hands, and declared, "Let the tournament began!"

The knights circled back, leaving the ring as the crowd cheered. As Madeline hung back with the others, listening to see who would be called first, she scanned the area nearest the main entrance/exit. It didn't take long to find the hunched, hooded figure lingering by the wall. She relaxed a little, knowing Alfred would have pulled her aside if something was amiss. So far so good. Now she just had to joust well enough to complete the act.

Alfred Jones was not among the first summoned to the ring. As Madeline waited patiently, more so than the other knights who were shifting and pacing, their horses edgy, her gaze drifted down to the veil. She studied it, trying not to be obvious about it. As the person with whom her brother was head over heels in love with, princess or no, Madeline had ensured she'd spent time with Alice. The princess had been happy to oblige, and over the winter months they spent weeks in each other's company. The twin's father wanted her there for the social season anyway, so getting to the winter palace wasn't a problem. Madeline quite liked Alice, and the feeling was mutual.

As a good friend of said girl, Madeline recognized this scarf. She remembered wandering through the market on one of the warmer days, listening to the vendor asking the princess if she would need favors to present the young knights come spring. At first Alice had balked, but then relented, looking over the wares. She'd picked through several before turning to Madeline and asking, "Which one do you think he'd like?"

Madeline had blinked. "Alfred? He's a man, he doesn't care for what veils we wear."

Alice had pursed her lips, eyeing the veils. Madeline had followed her gaze, scanning over the colors. After a moment she'd selected one that was a soft emerald green, handing it to the princess. "If you're going to give it to him as a favor, I think he'd like this one. It's the color of your eyes."

The princess had blushed profusely, but had bought the veil all the same.

Madeline cracked a smile. She was happy for them, but she also envied them. While knowing not all were as lucky as her brother, she often wondered if she could find someone who felt about her the way Alfred felt about Alice.

"Lord Alfred Jones!"

She was snapped back to earth when she heard the paunchy herald with a scroll call her name. Urging Freedom into a trot, she returned to the ring, moving to stand opposite the long, low fence of the other knight. A page ran forward to present her with a lance, which she took carefully. Madeline shifted her grip on it, testing its weight before bringing the point towards the sky. It had good balance, and felt solid enough in her hand. No tampering had taken place, at least none that was obvious.

Out of the corner of her eye, Madeline could see the herald step forward, arm raised. He dropped the arm. The other knight put his spurs to his mount's flanks, urging him forward.

"Charge," said Madeline, just loud enough for Freedom to hear.

For a frightening heartbeat, the gelding didn't seem to move. Fear closed around Madeline's chest, but it was dispersed as the horse sprang forward, obeying the command with a battle cry. She was so relieved she almost forgot to lower her lance.

The first pass she used as a test run, which while risky would give her a feel for how to best unseat her opponent. This knight, whose name she couldn't remember, almost didn't survive that much. Madeline had aimed her lance straight at the middle of his shield, knocking him half out of the saddle. She had tilted her own shield, deflecting his lance easily enough, keeping her seat.

As they rounded the opposite ends of the fence, Madeline felt genuine confidence for the first time. This knight wasn't nearly as good as Alfred, he'd be easy to beat in one more pass. The jousting field was grounds on which she was comfortable, and the more she remembered that the more she relaxed.

Again the herald stepped forward. Madeline hefted her lance, and as his arm dropped she ordered, "Charge."

This time she dipped the tip of her lance at the last minute, getting the lower part of his shield. The maneuver effectively levered him out of his saddle, sending him flying. Madeline grinned beneath her helmet. She's forgotten how good it felt, the power of a racing battle horse, the surge of adrenaline as her mount plowed forward, and the wash of pride as she sent her opponent sailing though the air.

Madeline made her pass by the royal box, as was custom if you won your round, bowing to those seated before urging Freedom back out of the ring.

It was all uphill from there. In total there had been about twenty knights. Each time Madeline was called into the ring, she neatly dispatched her opponent while never being unseated herself. She even managed to shatter several lances, which while annoying was also an indication you'd put enough force behind it to break solid wood.

By the time it was down to four of them, her shield arm was sore, she was sweating buckets under the armor, and she knew she'd be needing Alice's bruise salve, but Madeline could honestly say she was having fun. As far as she could tell, the only problem was that the kings were a little baffled and slightly insulted that she was one of the few knights to not remove her helmet when she took her brief victory bow. While she wasn't the only one, it was usually a sign of respect, and as someone who was the lone courter of the princess, Alfred was expecting to afford every respect to his future father-in-law. He always had before, anyway. At least Alice seemed quite pleased with the way things were going, beaming with pride as 'Alfred' dismounted opponent after opponent.

Madeline was shaking out her shield arm, waiting as two of the remaining knights charged in the ring, when the forth knight trotted his mount over to her. She stiffened, and it took her a minute to recognize him. She was used to seeing him out of armor, but she remembered the crest. This was Ivan Braginski, son of a noble who's lands lay on the fief's northern border. Ivan didn't like Alfred very much, and the feeling was mutual. Suddenly Madeline kicked herself for not looking harder at the other knights. Ivan was good, very good. He was one of the few people besides Madeline herself that could unseat Alfred.

"Hello, Alfred. How is your shield arm? Not hurting, I hope. I would hate to break it when I dismount you."

Not trusting her voice, and knowing Ivan knew Alfred's own voice quite well, she settled for a thumbs up. It wouldn't look too bad if it was Ivan who eventually beat her, right? Alfred and Ivan had been unseating each other in tournaments for years now, it wouldn't look that suspicious.

No sooner had Madeline convinced herself of this, though, then Ivan said, "By the way, I have not seen your lovely sister in the stands. It's a shame. She won't get to see me beat you."

She bristled a little. Lovely? Since when did Ivan call her lovely? Or had he, and Alfred had just neglected to mention it?

"I should thank you, Alfred. Between you and the princess, no one wants to court her. They are too afraid, the cowards. You won't mind if I occupy her, do you? Even a wallflower wench should be some fun."

Madeline barely heard the crowd cheering at another knight's victory as Ivan moved away. There was a ringing in her ears, but not the same as when her helmet took a beating. Heat rolled through her, coiling in her belly in a mix of embarrassment and outrage.

Scowling under her helmet, Madeline urged Freedom forward. As they galloped into the ring once more, she gritted her teeth, eyes narrowed. Forget bracing for a fall, she'd take Ivan with her if she had to drag him from his saddle to do it!

Taking the lance from the page, Madeline prepared to lock her legs around Freedom's side, bracing her backside against the somewhat taller back of the jousting saddle. She knew that locking your legs too much while your horse was charging wasn't a good idea long term, but if she only did it to brace for impact it shouldn't do any harm. If nothing else, Freedom seemed to be more agitated than before, apparently picking up on his rider's broiling temper.

Madeline's theory was confirmed when, as the herald's arm dropped, the gelding surged forward without the charge command. She lowered her lance, clamping her legs tightly around Freedom's sides and bracing herself as best she could. She aimed the lance at the lower part of Ivan's shield, preparing to give her weapon the last minute twist needed to eject him.

The two collided hard, and Madeline saw stars, realizing almost too late she'd nearly been removed from the saddle herself. Only when she looked down did she found both their lances had shattered on impact, her arm throbbing. Adjusting herself in her seat, she brought Freedom around, and grimaced in disappointment when she saw Ivan still in his seat.

A page scurried up to her, taking her broken lance and offering her a new one. Madeline took it, rolling her left shoulder and wincing. Her eyes narrowed as she and Ivan squared up for a second pass, catching her breath. That was her best trick, one that even worked on Alfred a lot of the time. If it didn't unseat Ivan...she'd have to get more creative. There was one maneuver, but it's legality was questionable as it was one usually used in battle.

Ivan's words circled in her head. Wallflower wench. Wallflower wench. Wallflower wench.

Madeline growled softly. Suddenly legality didn't matter so much. She could live with herself if Ivan had to be carried out of the ring.

The herald dropped his arm.

"Charge," growled Madeline.

Obediently Freedom surged forward. Madeline lowered her lance, bracing herself for impact, locking her legs tightly as they flew closer. This time, she aimed for the inside of Ivan's shield.

The seconds seemed to slow. Their lance's made contact. Madeline saw her own weapon's tip slide off the shield and collide with his breastplate even as something slammed into her own chest, knocking the wind from her lungs.

The next thing she knew she was flying, only to land heavily in the dirt, gasping. For a minute she just lay there, stunned, ears ringing, struggling to get air back into her aching chest. Then, slowly, she struggled to sit up with the heavy armor. She felt dazed, the ringing in her ears making it hard to hear anything else.

As she got to her feet, she realized both their lances had shattered again. Better still, she'd managed to return the favor, if the massive knight sprawled on the ground was any indication. Gritting her teeth, Madeline stumbled forward, ducking unsteadily under the low fence. As Ivan sat up, she grabbed him by his armor straps, hauling him closer. His helmet had come off in the collision, which wasn't unusual, so she got a good look at his stunned face.

"She is not a wallflower wench," she bit out.

It took a few seconds, but as she released her grip it occurred to Madeline that Ivan had looked almost too surprised. Slowly, it occurred to her that he wasn't the only one who'd lost her helmet. Her heart sinking, she looked around, taking in the crowd. They were silent, save for a quit buzz of muttering.

Gulping, Madeline turned towards the royal box. Alice looked like she wanted to smack herself in the face. Her father didn't look best pleased, but at least King Germania only looked mildly amused. The white haired prince looked like he'd just stumbled upon the best prank ever pulled.

As she slowly made her way over to the box, the ache in her arm became more pronounced, but Madeline ignored it. Once she was close enough, she bowed shakily, and awaited her fate. When it was a minute before anyone spoke, she peeked up at the box.

"Who are you?" demanded the king, rising to his feet, his outrage obvious. "How dare you masquerade as a knight of the realm?"

Swallowing dryly, Madeline held her head high and said, "Lady Madeline, sire. First daughter of house Jones. I took my brothers place because he was unable to compete."

The king's eyes narrowed, but then his scowl was redirected just passed Madeline. She turned, and saw Alfred making his way into the ring, pushing his hood back. He gave her a sheepish smile, then turned his attention to the royal box.

"Don't take it out on her, sire. It was my idea. Besides, she was pretty good, wasn't she?"

"Alfred, not now," hissed Alice.

Immediately the king's attention was on her. "You knew of this?" he demanded.

Alice met her father's rage squarely, lifting her chin stubbornly. "Of course I did."

"Britannia."

The King's rage was put on hold as King Germania spoke. His voice was low, even, but one it was hard not to listen to. Immediately he had everyone's attention, even though he was still seated.

"The only crime here is false identity," he rumbled calmly. "Even that is hardly so, if she did it with his full knowledge. I know you dislike women fighting, but in my country we do not. You remember a branch of our army, the Shield Maidens? Give the remaining knight the victory, he has won by default by your own rules. A lack of victory should be punishment enough."

King Britannia didn't look entirely convinced, but before he could argue, the prince began to laugh. It was a very odd laugh, to say the least. Madeline blinked stupidly up at the albino, trying to understand just what he found so funny. She barely noticed when Alfred nudged her, muttering, "You okay?"

"Fine," she mumbled, as the laughter died down enough for the prince to speak.

"You can stop nagging me, Vater. I've made my choice. Mien Gott this is awesome! Almost as awesome as the Awesome me!"

Madeline glanced over at Alfred, who looked as confused as she did.

"You can't be serious," Alice protested. "That's not how it works here, you can't just pick."

King Britannia glared at her. "Yes, he can. I'm allowing it."

"Pick what?" asked Madeline quietly.

Alfred gave a baffled one-armed shrug. "Dunno. Come on, let's get you out of here. She'll find us and explain later."

BREAK/BREAK\BREAK

The healer had just left their tent when Alice stomped in, looking furious. Madeline's shoulder was bandaged, not dislocated but badly bruised. She found it morbidly funny that both twins would be returning in bad shape.

"What was he talking about?" she asked, once the flap fell shut. "That was Gilbert, correct?"

"Yes. The bloody fool, I can't believe father is allowing this," she fumed.

"Allowing what?" asked Alfred.

"I told you he was here because his father wanted him to marry someone from our kingdom? That was their agreement, to strengthen our alliance with a marriage. Father is allowing them to choose whoever they want. If you don't agree to marry him, he'll order you to."

Suddenly Madeline felt pale. Meanwhile, Alfred's face turned red. "What? He can't do that!"

"I'm afraid he can," said Alice grimly. "Besides, he's traditional, remember? He's not happy a woman, even if we knew about it, was able to joust in a tournament. He also wants to please the royals from Saxon. This is two birds with one stone."

Madeline went quite, but Alfred was still fuming. "He's not just going to give my sister away like that. We can't let him."

"We hardly have a choice," Alice argued back. "You know as well as I that your father isn't going to step in. I don't like it anymore than you do, Alfred, but unless you can change my father's mind...

"What's he like?" whispered Madeline.

Alfred and Alice stopped, staring at her. "What?" demanded Alfred. "How can you ask that?"

"Alice is right, Alfred. She didn't exactly get her hard head from her mother." Ignoring Alice's protest of "Hey!", she plowed on. "It's treason to ignore a royal decree and you know it. I'm not going to run and I'm not going to prison. At least he's my age and seems...fine. If nothing else he has a sense of humor."

Madeline set her jaw as Alfred lurched to his feet. "I'm not letting you do this, Maddie. It's my fault and I won't let you-

"Alfred."

When he stopped, turning to stare at Alice, the princess looked grim, but resigned.

"Your sister is a big girl, she can make her own decisions. Besides, she's right about one thing. There are worse people to be married off to. I might not know Gilbert well, but I know enough."

"You can't be serious," argued Alfred.

Madeline found it both odd and reassuring that Alfred seemed to be the most gung-ho about this. That said, both she and Alice had apparently done the math. They might not like it, but they were more accustomed to accepting the more unpleasant requirements of society. Madeline had always been aware that it was a possibility she'd end up in a marriage she didn't want, especially considering her father's less than keen interest in her own wants.

"Alfred, why don't you take a walk? Or double check on Freedom? Please?" she asked quietly.

For a minute she thought he might refuse. But then he stood, storming out as much as he was able with one crutch. Once he was gone, Alice sat carefully on the cot opposite Madeline, taking Alfred's place. She clasped her hands in front of her, taking a deep breath before saying quietly, "I'm sorry, Madeline."

"It's not your fault," said the girl, smiling tightly. "I shouldn't have let Ivan get to me."

"From what I understand he has a talent for getting under the skin of people named Jones," said Alice wryly. "But enough of him. You asked what Gilbert was like?"

Madeline nodded. "I'd like to at least have an idea of what I'm getting myself into. Is it true they allow women into the army in Saxon?"

Alice nodded. "Very. As Germania said, they even have their own legion, but if they can manage they're allowed into the regular ranks as well. If nothing else, you'll have your freedom. I've only met Gilbert a few times, and quite frankly I find him an egotistical buffoon. Ludwig, his younger brother, is the more mature of the two. Rumor is he's expected to take the throne rather than Gilbert."

"Well if I'm not going to become queen I'm hardly going to complain," said Madeline tiredly.

"Hardly a popular opinion. You'd be surprised how many ladies have been trying to get his attention the week he was at the palace. It was quite funny actually, seeing how batty they all drove him."

"So he spends an entire week with the most eligible ladies in the kingdom on his tail, but he chooses me without ever speaking to me. It doesn't make sense," protested Madeline.

"I told you, he's a buffoon. He has a little bird that follows him everywhere and sits on his head. Named it Gilbird. That said, he's only two years your senior, spends as much time hunting and dodging duties as he does helping his father. If nothing else, I should say he'd leave you be when he's not trying to prank you. Watch doors that are already open, by the way. I ended up with a bucket of honey over my head his second day in the palace."

Madeline blinked. "He's twenty years old and he's still playing childish pranks?" That said, she remembered the look on his face when her helmet had come off. It occurred to her that he might very well think it was some sort of practical joke.

"There are worse people to be married off to, I suppose. I met his cousin last year when we traveled there. She's currently a commander of her own squadron of Shield Maidens. They were quite close growing up, still are from what I understand. He doesn't share my father's opinion on women, and he doesn't have his father's sense of duty."

Frowning, Madeline asked, "What are you saying?"

Alice took a deep breath, and it occurred to Madeline how shaky she looked. "I'm trying to make us both feel better, I suppose. What good is being a royal if you can't help the people you care about? I'll do what I can, but...at best I'll be able to buy you a few weeks. That's how long they planned to stay. Gilbert, he's...foolish, childish, but he's honorable, good when it counts. If anyone knows him, it's Ludwig and Elizabeta. If you need help you can go to them as well as contact me. I can't promise you won't be under any sort of pressure to take the throne along with him, to have children, but I'm certain the pressure won't come from Gilbert. He'll take care of you, I believe, if nothing else. I could arrange for an escort for you-

"Alice," said Madeline, stopping her. "Thank you. I appreciate your helping me, but I did grow up with Alfred for a brother. I'll be fine. I'll get in touch with Elizabeta once I'm in Saxon, send letters regularly. If something's going wrong you and Alfred will be the first to know." Taking a deep breath and getting to her feet, she said, "Besides, I haven't even met him yet. If memory serves the first time you met Alfred you were at a ball where he spilled an entire goblet of wine on your favorite dress and stepped on your toes so many times they were purple the next day."

The princess grimaced. "Hardly a night I'll forget."

"He then spent the next week trying to apologize, and I spent the next week getting demands on just how to make a princess forgive him."

Alice frowned. "I suppose that would explain why he thought to replace the dress rather than send me flowers." Shaking her head, she urged, "Are you sure you'll be alright?"

"Just point the way to his tent and I'll- oaf!"

Madeline had turned to push through the flap, only to collide with someone who's chest was on level with her face. She stumbled back, grunting as her injured shoulder was jostled. Out of habit, despite the obvious extra few inches, she blurted, "Alfred! Watch where you're...

Her protest petered out when she saw it wasn't Alfred. She felt her face heat when she got her first good look into the prince who'd just turned her life upside down. He was surprisingly handsome, odd coloring aside. And there was indeed a small, fluffy yellow bird perched on his head.

"What are you doing here?" demanded Alice from behind her.

Madeline had seen red eyes before, or she thought she had. There was bloodshot and puffy, but it had nothing on irises that were as red as she'd first thought. It was much more shocking up close, though. The effect was doubled when they were focused on her, even when the princess spoke to him.

"Mind if I barrow her for a little while?" he asked simply.

The fluffy bird, Gilbird, cheeped. Madeline tore her gaze away to stare at him, deciding to focus on the bird rather than the man. "Why is there a bird on your head?"

Immediately she kicked herself. The first words she spoke to her soon-to-be husband, and all she could say was 'why is there a bird on your head?. She was supposed to be the levelheaded twin for pities sake.

Rather than ridicule her, Gilbert just grinned. "Because Gilbird is awesome. The Awesome me would like to speak with you now."

Then, instead of waiting for an answer, he hooked his arm through hers and half dragged her out, ignoring Alice's protests.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, stumbling after him.

"Leaving the camp. Vater is grumbling and Britannia is sucking up. Besides, if you're going to be my wife I want to know what I'm getting."

"Shouldn't you have figured that out before you made that call?" she demanded. She wasn't sure what irritated her more, that she was getting dragged through camp or that she was starting to care about how dirty she was and how horrible she must smell.

"If I didn't pick someone before we got back to the palace he'd pick one for me."

"What made you pick me, then? Do you even know my name?"

"Lady Jones."

"My first name?"

"I was hoping you could repeat it. The Awesome me didn't catch it the first time."

Madeline waited until they were passed the tents, then braced her feet in the grass, forcing them both to a stop. When he looked back at her she said, "I'm not going anywhere with you until you explain yourself. You could have picked anyone to get your father off your back. What made you pick me?"

Gilbert studied her, head cocked slightly. "This is why. Vater wanted me to choose someone from this kingdom, fine. I get here, and they're all unawesome. Boring, fluffy, too afraid to get their skirts wet to do more than gossip. You're the first person besides Alice who isn't wearing enough perfume to give me a headache."

"I smell like sweat, dirt, and horse," Madeline protested.

"Exactly! Much better than perfume. I think my cousin ruined me. Vater thought I was crazy when I said I'd only marry a girl if I could find one willing to hit me with a frying pan. I think you'd do it if I made you mad enough."

Madeline stared at him, nonplussed. Finally she asked, "Elizabeta hit you with a frying pan?"

"Ja, still does. Wait, how do you know her name? I don't even know yours."

Ignoring the question, she asked, "So you chose me because you think I'd hit you with a frying pan? That's it?"

"Nein. You were brave enough to take your brothers place, and good enough to pull it off. I like that, it's awesome."

Madeline blinked. "You think I'm awesome?" she repeated.

Gilbert nodded. Gilbird left his perch, moving to her head, settling down with a few contented cheeps. The prince broke out into a grin. "See? Even Gilbird likes you. That's proof you're awesome, Birdie."

"What did you just call me?" she demanded, even as he started to pull her along again.

"Come on," he urged as they walked along, getting farther from camp and closer to the village it was set up next to. "Tell me more about Birdie."

"Why are you calling me that?"

"Because I don't know your real name, and it fits. Gilbird likes you, and you're both awesome. Why do you know things about me when I don't know anything about me?"

"And yet you're the one who's getting us married," quipped Madeline. "You're not the only one who's curious. I asked Alice. She's not very happy with you, by the way. Neither is Alfred."

"Your brother, right?"

"Yeah."

"Is he the one who taught you how to joust?"

"And ride. And do this."

Ignoring her protesting shoulder, Madeline thrust a hand forward, grabbing the sword's hilt and dragging it from its scabbard at his left hip. She thrust it up, holding the blade close to his throat.

"Now let go of me, please."

Gilbert obeyed, but he had a wide grin on his face, genuine delight in his eyes. "You're left handed?"

"No. The person who taught Alfred taught him to use a sword with both hands. Ask Alice, it's something he passes on. Now stop dragging me along. It's rude. Tell me where you want to go, and I'll decide if I want to go with you."

"See? The Awesome me has awesome instincts! I'm taking you to the village because Luddy did that with Feliciana and it seemed to work. Besides, I want to get away from the royalty and the angry brother."

Satisfied, Madeline returned his sword to its sheath. "Was it really that hard? Now if you will let me return to my tent so I can clean up, I will be happy to accompany you to the village."

Still grinning, Gilbert offered her his arm. Madeline took it, letting the prince lead her back towards the camp. She made a mental note to see about getting her hands on a frying pan.

Let me know what you think! :) And remember to be on the look out for 'Hoist the Colors High' updates!

EDIT: I have written a sequel, 'Princess In Travel Gear'. If you liked this, let me know and I might add to the story! :)

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