Title: If Wishes Were Horses
Author: Josephine
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance, of the cheesy kind
Pairing: S/R
Summary: Malcolm dreams of what could be between him and Hoshi
Notes: This is in answer to a challenge on 'The Linguistics Database'. What would be the 'aftermath' of Malcolm and Hoshi's miscommunication in 'Silent Enemy'.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns the Trek dance hall; I like to conduct the band once in awhile.
Chapter One
Malcolm came out of the shower, toweling off his hair. :::This was probably the best birthday I've ever had.::: He smiled thinking about the mix up between him and Hoshi, and just because she wanted to know his favorite food.
:::I made an ass over myself on that one.::: Malcolm's reaction to Hoshi's supposed overtures was more a defensive mechanism than an actual reluctance to get involved with the Linguist. He threw himself down on his bunk.
:::Face it, chum, you *would like to get involved with Hoshi.::: Malcolm's mind started wandering over memories of Hoshi. :::Like I'd have a chance. She obviously doesn't think of me that way, the fiasco in the mess hall proved that.::: Malcolm pulled a blanket up and drifted off to sleep, still thinking of Hoshi.
--------
A knight on a wagon pulled by a warhorse came up to the castle gate.
"Who goes there?" floated down from the battlements.
"I am Malcolm, Earl of Reed, come to vie for the hand of the Princess Hoshi! Open the gate and let me in!"
Malcolm heard muttering followed by a muffled "Open the gate!" Slowly the two great doors opened. As he passed through the portcullis, the Earl of Reed could feel everyone's eyes upon him. "He's a knight? Where's his squire?" Questions that Malcolm had previously heard a hundred times swirled around him. They never bothered him before, but now … now that he was competing for the only woman he would ever love, they stung like nettles.
A man in the King's uniform came running up to him. "I'm Captain Jones, of the King's guard, and I'm running this show. You're the last one here, you get lot 4." Jones looked at Malcolm alone on the wagon. "You it, then?" he finally said.
"I am it, then. If you'll excuse me." Slapping the reins, Malcolm moved the wagon through the crowd. Reaching his assigned spot, he started unloading the wagon.
"Well met, Reed! We wasn't sure to expect you or not!" Malcolm looked over to see Jonathan, Duke of Archer, drinking wine with Travis, Baron Mayweather.
Malcolm warily nodded back. "Archer, Mayweather."
"Ho, my lords! I see we're all here now!" Charles, Marquess of Tucker came up behind Malcolm.
"Been ogling the wenches, Tucker?" Mayweather said with a leer.
"You know me too well, Mayweather. How could I pass up a fine opportunity like this." He grinned back at the men, while at the same time passing a connoisseur's eye over the crowd.
Malcolm didn't say anything and went back to unloading the wagon.
"The Queen! The Queen!" Malcolm looked up at the sound of a carriage as the crowd surged forward to get a glimpse of the Queen and Princess. Hopping up on the wagon wheel, he could see that Queen T'Pol was seated on his side of crowd. Quickly moving up the road, he crossed it to be on the Princess' side. Malcolm bowed with the rest of the masses, but raised his head when the carriage moved closer, his eyes meeting the Princess'. His heart constricted, she looked so sad and lonely. Losing her father after his long illness, having a mother who became more and more emotionally distant as the King's health declined, and finally being given away as a prize to the knight who won the throne in this tournament. Malcolm searched for any sign of recognition from Princess Hoshi, but not even a flicker of her eye indicated she had seen him. Sighing, he watched the carriage pull into the castle proper, and made his way back to his tent.
"Hoshi's a delectable armful, don't you think?" Tucker took a swig of wine. "A nice little bonus to winning the throne." Archer and Mayweather laughed with him as they saluted the Princess.
Malcolm could barely keep his temper in check. Bad enough that Hoshi would go to someone else if he lost, but to be the wife of one of those boors …. He checked that everything he needed was unloaded from the wagon and secured in the tent. Especially that banded chest. Weapons were a hobby of Malcolm's he had a few of his favorites in there that hopefully would give him the upper hand in the coming tournament. Taking his horse and wagon to the stable, he arranged for their keep. Giving Porthos a pat on the nose, he wandered through the crowd until dinnertime.
Malcolm had finished eating and was cleaning up when Captain Jones came up leading an older boy. "I have a squire for you, my lord."
"I don't need a squire, Captain." Malcolm didn't look up.
"Princess Hoshi insists."
Malcolm's hands stilled. Keeping his voice even, he asked, "Princess Hoshi insists?"
"Yes, my lord. She does not want anyone to have an undue advantage over anyone else in the tournament."
"I see." The hope that had sprung up in Malcolm's breast died a little. He glanced at the boy. "Are you any good?"
The boy swallowed nervously. "Yes, my lord, at least, I think so, my lord." He looked like he was going to faint.
"What's your name?"
"Nigel Cutler, my lord."
Malcolm looked at him a while longer. "All right. Thank you, Captain."
"My lord." The Captain moved off.
"Well, Nigel, there isn't much left to do tonight, have you eaten?"
"…yes, my lord." Nigel's stomach growled.
"But as I recall, boys are perpetually hungry. There's some bread and cheese if you'd like it."
"Thank you, my lord!" Nigel fell on the food, devouring it quickly.
"What news do you have of the castle?" Malcolm asked casually.
"Everyone is wondering who will win the tournament and be the new King." Nigel mumbled around the cheese. "No one can tell what the Queen thinks, she has become like a statue. And the Princess cries herself to sleep every night."
Malcolm's breath caught. "Oh?"
"Yes, my sister Beth is the Princess' maid. Beth says that the Princess has a locket she never takes off and holds to her cheek when she's sleeping."
"Sounds like the Princess is in love."
Nigel rolled his eyes, but not so Malcolm could see. "Elizabeth and I think so too, my lord."
"Does anyone else know of this?" Malcolm's glace slid over to the others knight's camps.
Nigel followed the look. "No, my lord, no one else."
"Good. Keep it that way."
"Of course, my lord."
"I'm turning in. There are extra blankets in the tent."
"Good night, my lord."
Chapter two coming soon …
Author: Josephine
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance, of the cheesy kind
Pairing: S/R
Summary: Malcolm dreams of what could be between him and Hoshi
Notes: This is in answer to a challenge on 'The Linguistics Database'. What would be the 'aftermath' of Malcolm and Hoshi's miscommunication in 'Silent Enemy'.
Disclaimer: Paramount owns the Trek dance hall; I like to conduct the band once in awhile.
Chapter One
Malcolm came out of the shower, toweling off his hair. :::This was probably the best birthday I've ever had.::: He smiled thinking about the mix up between him and Hoshi, and just because she wanted to know his favorite food.
:::I made an ass over myself on that one.::: Malcolm's reaction to Hoshi's supposed overtures was more a defensive mechanism than an actual reluctance to get involved with the Linguist. He threw himself down on his bunk.
:::Face it, chum, you *would like to get involved with Hoshi.::: Malcolm's mind started wandering over memories of Hoshi. :::Like I'd have a chance. She obviously doesn't think of me that way, the fiasco in the mess hall proved that.::: Malcolm pulled a blanket up and drifted off to sleep, still thinking of Hoshi.
--------
A knight on a wagon pulled by a warhorse came up to the castle gate.
"Who goes there?" floated down from the battlements.
"I am Malcolm, Earl of Reed, come to vie for the hand of the Princess Hoshi! Open the gate and let me in!"
Malcolm heard muttering followed by a muffled "Open the gate!" Slowly the two great doors opened. As he passed through the portcullis, the Earl of Reed could feel everyone's eyes upon him. "He's a knight? Where's his squire?" Questions that Malcolm had previously heard a hundred times swirled around him. They never bothered him before, but now … now that he was competing for the only woman he would ever love, they stung like nettles.
A man in the King's uniform came running up to him. "I'm Captain Jones, of the King's guard, and I'm running this show. You're the last one here, you get lot 4." Jones looked at Malcolm alone on the wagon. "You it, then?" he finally said.
"I am it, then. If you'll excuse me." Slapping the reins, Malcolm moved the wagon through the crowd. Reaching his assigned spot, he started unloading the wagon.
"Well met, Reed! We wasn't sure to expect you or not!" Malcolm looked over to see Jonathan, Duke of Archer, drinking wine with Travis, Baron Mayweather.
Malcolm warily nodded back. "Archer, Mayweather."
"Ho, my lords! I see we're all here now!" Charles, Marquess of Tucker came up behind Malcolm.
"Been ogling the wenches, Tucker?" Mayweather said with a leer.
"You know me too well, Mayweather. How could I pass up a fine opportunity like this." He grinned back at the men, while at the same time passing a connoisseur's eye over the crowd.
Malcolm didn't say anything and went back to unloading the wagon.
"The Queen! The Queen!" Malcolm looked up at the sound of a carriage as the crowd surged forward to get a glimpse of the Queen and Princess. Hopping up on the wagon wheel, he could see that Queen T'Pol was seated on his side of crowd. Quickly moving up the road, he crossed it to be on the Princess' side. Malcolm bowed with the rest of the masses, but raised his head when the carriage moved closer, his eyes meeting the Princess'. His heart constricted, she looked so sad and lonely. Losing her father after his long illness, having a mother who became more and more emotionally distant as the King's health declined, and finally being given away as a prize to the knight who won the throne in this tournament. Malcolm searched for any sign of recognition from Princess Hoshi, but not even a flicker of her eye indicated she had seen him. Sighing, he watched the carriage pull into the castle proper, and made his way back to his tent.
"Hoshi's a delectable armful, don't you think?" Tucker took a swig of wine. "A nice little bonus to winning the throne." Archer and Mayweather laughed with him as they saluted the Princess.
Malcolm could barely keep his temper in check. Bad enough that Hoshi would go to someone else if he lost, but to be the wife of one of those boors …. He checked that everything he needed was unloaded from the wagon and secured in the tent. Especially that banded chest. Weapons were a hobby of Malcolm's he had a few of his favorites in there that hopefully would give him the upper hand in the coming tournament. Taking his horse and wagon to the stable, he arranged for their keep. Giving Porthos a pat on the nose, he wandered through the crowd until dinnertime.
Malcolm had finished eating and was cleaning up when Captain Jones came up leading an older boy. "I have a squire for you, my lord."
"I don't need a squire, Captain." Malcolm didn't look up.
"Princess Hoshi insists."
Malcolm's hands stilled. Keeping his voice even, he asked, "Princess Hoshi insists?"
"Yes, my lord. She does not want anyone to have an undue advantage over anyone else in the tournament."
"I see." The hope that had sprung up in Malcolm's breast died a little. He glanced at the boy. "Are you any good?"
The boy swallowed nervously. "Yes, my lord, at least, I think so, my lord." He looked like he was going to faint.
"What's your name?"
"Nigel Cutler, my lord."
Malcolm looked at him a while longer. "All right. Thank you, Captain."
"My lord." The Captain moved off.
"Well, Nigel, there isn't much left to do tonight, have you eaten?"
"…yes, my lord." Nigel's stomach growled.
"But as I recall, boys are perpetually hungry. There's some bread and cheese if you'd like it."
"Thank you, my lord!" Nigel fell on the food, devouring it quickly.
"What news do you have of the castle?" Malcolm asked casually.
"Everyone is wondering who will win the tournament and be the new King." Nigel mumbled around the cheese. "No one can tell what the Queen thinks, she has become like a statue. And the Princess cries herself to sleep every night."
Malcolm's breath caught. "Oh?"
"Yes, my sister Beth is the Princess' maid. Beth says that the Princess has a locket she never takes off and holds to her cheek when she's sleeping."
"Sounds like the Princess is in love."
Nigel rolled his eyes, but not so Malcolm could see. "Elizabeth and I think so too, my lord."
"Does anyone else know of this?" Malcolm's glace slid over to the others knight's camps.
Nigel followed the look. "No, my lord, no one else."
"Good. Keep it that way."
"Of course, my lord."
"I'm turning in. There are extra blankets in the tent."
"Good night, my lord."
Chapter two coming soon …