D. N. Angel Fan Fiction ❯ Snippets ❯ Tournament ( Chapter 19 )

Tournament:

 

Disclaimer: DN Angel is not mine.

 

Warnings: Aw, do we have to go through this?

 

A/N: I apologise for any historical errors; they are entirely my own.

 

This is a celebration fic for me; I have just officially finished my German exams and I will never have to take another German lesson until I enter university. On the other hand, I am also stuck doing apps, so please forgive me for the long break. Enjoy!

 

The knight entered the city gates, carefully guiding his horse through the bustling crowds. Some stopped to stare, but others ignored him, too absorbed in their daily tasks. It was clear where he was headed, anyway; there was only one place for knights to go, especially if they were on business. His hair and striking eyes already marked him as a foreigner, and the design on his cloak showed his allegiance to the Order of the Spears of Heaven. Luckily, his shield was covered, hiding his distinctive coat of arms and discouraging any more attention.

 

Dark Mousy wondered where the nearest inn was. He knew that no one would particularly care if he smelled, but he certainly did. He was probably covered in sweat, dust and the muck into which he had fallen when a group of bandits waylaid him. He had fortunately managed to beat them off, but smeared his cloak and armour into the dirt whilst doing so.

 

After an hour of wandering through town on horseback, he decided that walking would be a better idea. Phantom appeared to be getting weary, and he was tired of people staring. Leaping nimbly off the stallion, he grabbed the reins and gently tugged. “Come on,” he told the horse. “Let's go find someplace to stay.”

 

Dark walked towards a group of young women around a well. “Pardon me, ladies,” he smiled and bowed, “but would you happen to know of a good inn around here?” They giggled and blushed, but finally one of them gave him directions to an inn called The Stallion. Thanking them for their advice, the knight and his horse left.

 

A few days later saw the knight still in the city, taking his sweet time. By his reckoning, Kanda would not be anywhere near Milan until at least six months from now, and he had plenty of time to travel west. Dark had always been good with time. Just as he was examining a cart of apples and oranges to see whether he could stock up on fruit before his long journey southward, the clanging of the herald's bell broke into his senses. “Hear ye, hear ye,” the short, round man cried. “On the fifth day of March, there will be a jousting tournament at the king's castle!” The crowd began to babble, but stopped upon seeing that the man had more to say. “The winner shall be given the hand of the Princess Riku and a wreath of gold, to show that he is in the king's favour forever more!” A great cheer arose from the crowd, whilst Dark blinked. Interesting….he thought. Perhaps I should go too…

 

The Stallion:

 

Dark wondered at how quickly news traveled. The inn's door was now in a state of constant motion, what with all the knights entering and requesting lodging. Whilst at table, the knight fell into conversation with the group at his table, and soon discovered that they were on their way to Tuscany with important information. “And are any of you planning to participate in the tournament?” He asked casually.

 

“Oh, no; we must arrive at Tuscany a month from now, and I fear we have been much delayed.” One of the men said.

 

Dark raised an eyebrow. “But surely you would not pass up the chance to contest fellow knights for such a great prize?”

 

“No, no. I had best leave these things to the youngsters. Besides, the princess deserves much better than an ordinary knight like me. Why, her beauty and youth would be wasted on I, who am a coarse, unrefined…”

 

“Enough,” another interrupted. He flashed a grin at Dark, who instantly took to him. “No more wine for you; you're becoming maudlin. Say,” he shot at Dark, “where do you come from? I have yet to see anyone with hair and eyes like yours.”

 

Dark smiled politely. “I was born in the eastern lands.”

 

Yet another man interrupted the conversation. “I hear the king's knight will also be part of the tournament tomorrow,” he said. “'Tis said that he is a fine jouster, and a paragon of virtue.”

 

“'Tis also said that he is as beautiful as any damsel,” someone else contributed. The entire table burst into raucous laughter. Sensing that there was no more to be learned and feeling the beginnings of a headache, Dark excused himself and returned to his rooms.

 

Second day of March:

 

He stood in the baking sun, wishing that he were once more in the colder climates of the Austrian Empire, where at least cooking to death in one's armour was impossible. Around him, knights jostled to see the dais on which the king and his family would sit, eager to catch a glimpse of the famed ruler who had brought prosperity and riches to the kingdom.

 

After the customary speech and announcement of the rules of the tournament, the princess herself came forward. Dark felt his heart skip a beat, and suddenly, underneath that hot sun, he realized the true meaning of love. It was as though the sun itself had become brighter, the heat more welcome and the tournament merely another challenge for the heart of a beautiful damsel.

 

Three hours later:

 

Dark smirked; he had already made it through to the quarter-finals, having defeated five men easily enough. He snuck a glance around at the others who had successfully defeated all their opponents and raised an eyebrow at the coats-of-arms on some of the shields. He recognized the three lions of Sir Jean-Paul de la Verre, the rearing unicorn of General Zechs Marquis and the blue wolf's head of Duke Somuku Kanou. However, his own shield garnered just as much attention; an eagle with its wings spread wide as though about to soar upwards into the sky.

 

“Sir Mousy, it is a fine day for jousting, that indeed it is.”

 

“A good day to you too, Sir Himura. Your skill remains as impeccable as ever.”

 

“Please, you are too kind.” The redheaded knight smiled up at him. “I notice that your jousting has improved much. Why, I remember coming to court when you were just a lad and…”

 

“Of course,” Dark hastily interrupted. Sir Himura was one of the kindest knights he knew, but his tendency to ramble often revealed embarrassing incidents that were best left alone whilst in the company of other knights. “So anyway, why are you here?”

 

“Well, I wanted to see whether the king's court would be any more challenging, that indeed I did.” The younger knight grinned.

 

“And did you see anyone promising?”

 

Sir Himura gave his usual smile, the one that tricked many knights and bandits alike into thinking that he was perfectly harmless. “That indeed I did. But I do not know his name.” They were interrupted by the entrance of a newcomer, covered in grime and dirt but with the light of triumph shining in his eyes. Dark took the opportunity to slip away and start a conversation with the other knights, trying to gauge their abilities and simply for the sheer pleasure of socializing. Unlike most knights, who lost any ability to make conversation after years of wandering through the better part of Europe, the purple-haired man enjoyed the opportunity to talk to someone.

 

The tournament was to last for days, as so many knights from all over the land had come to participate. Dark found most of his opponents fairly easy to defeat; it was all about timing. Moreover, many of them recognized his shield and already felt intimidated, especially the older ones, who knew better than to be cocky. Nevertheless, he still had his fair share of losses; just never enough to lose altogether. Then the day of the semi-finals came, and there were just eight knights left.

 

Dark frowned at one of the knights whom he had yet to fight. His shield was red, with a white flame in the centre. Despite all his questions, no one seemed to know who the mystery knight was; he vanished as soon as he was treated by the healers, and did not seem to enjoy talking. The amethyst-eyed man could not wait to find out.

 

Back at the inn, gossip was rife. Many of the knights who had lost during the earlier stages had gone to The Stallion to buy a drink, and people were already exchanging bets on who would win. To his surprise, Dark found that the unknown knight was a favourite; it appeared that he had a special technique which allowed him to stay mounted in spite of the force behind any lance which struck him. Joining a table of card players, the knight smoothly inserted himself into the conversation. “So no one knows who the knight with the red shield is?”

 

“His helmet's never off, not even when he's being treated,” Sir Kyouhei Takano growled, cursing loudly as a barmaid attempted to drape herself over him for the fifth time that night, and as Sir Shishido grinned and revealed his winning hand. “Anyhow, I don't care what he looks like; he jousts well, far better than some of these guys do.” He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender as the entire table glared at him.

 

“Oh?” Dark asked. Right there and then, he decided that he would catch a glimpse of the mystery knight's face, or at least discover his true identity.

 

Sir Shishido suddenly turned a fierce gaze on Dark, although whether this was because of the alcohol or because of his naturally forceful personality, the older knight was not sure. “What about you?” He demanded brusquely. “You're the only one here who got further than the second round.” Everyone at the table winced, not wanting to remember their humiliation at the hands of various knights. Dark laughed and shrugged off the question.

 

“Well, you know what the Spears of Heaven training is like—“

 

He was immediately hit by a barrage of questions, many of the knights wanting to know more about the second most famous order within Europe, and only avoided an interrogation due to a brawl amongst some drunken card players who crashed into the table and nearly crushed Sir Yukiya in the process and catching Sir Ougi off guard, causing the former to burst into apology and the latter to join the skirmish.

 

Final day:

 

Even Dark was starting to grow restless. He knew that he had plenty of time to get to Italy, but this tournament had been dragging on for far too long. He tried to summon up a memory of the princess' beauty, but it seemed to flicker only at the edges of his thoughts. He remembered a quick glimpse of brown eyes and chestnut hair, but he knew that she was no longer a reason for his coming here. Nevertheless, he was still curious about the mystery knight; curious enough to persevere. He knew that they would meet; he didn't want to leave without seeing the man's face; but he also wanted to talk to the other. In his experience and within the Order, Dark knew that networking was the key to success and information. Hearing the roar of anticipation from the crowd outside, Dark quickly moved to the back of the tent and mounted Phantom, who was already dancing with excitement.

 

“On this side,” the king's referee announced loudly, pointing at Dark, “I have Sir Dark Mousy, General of the Order of the Spears of Heaven.” The crowd cheered, although the knight knew that he could have done better. Nevertheless, he raised the visor of his helmet and turned to wave at the crowd, causing the cheer to rise a little in volume. Smiling, he waited for the referee to announce the name and title of the `Flame Knight'. At least he would know the other's name.

 

“On my right, I have Crown-Prince Daisuke Niwa, heir to the throne.” The crowd roared its approval once more, this time much more whole-heartedly, and Dark peered through the slits of his visor, straining to catch a glimpse of the other's face. However, the prince did not raise his visor at all, instead turning to wave at the people. The purple-eyed general could see that even on the dais, the royal family was smiling with pride. A fine day to meet, Dark thought, although still a little disappointed that he had not seen more of the other's face.

 

The two opponents remained at opposite ends of the field, sizing each other up. To Dark's surprise, the prince betrayed no uneasiness; his horse remained perfectly steady. He grinned immediately; most of the nobility was nervous around men of his Order, simply because of their allegiance to no ruler save their own High Commander. The red cloth signaling the beginning of the first round flashed past the corner of his eye, and Dark immediately spurred Phantom on. He saw Daisuke coming closer, and closer, and then with an almighty crash their lances slammed straight into each others' shields. The general felt himself sway precariously, but he remained perfectly balanced. The Flame Knight, on the other hand, did not fare so well. It appeared that his lance had shattered upon impact.

 

After fresh lances had been issued, the two charged at each other once more, the round ending with Daisuke falling off his horse for the first time. The helmet rolled off his head as the prince landed and Dark nearly fell off his horse in shock. Where he had expected to see a man with fiercer features, he instead saw a youth with wide crimson eyes and equally red hair to match.

 

The rest of the match should never have happened. Dark, so stunned by the beauty of the youth across the field, could no longer concentrate. As he fell off his horse for what seemed like the third time, he wryly reflected that Commander Krad had been right; his focus needed honing. On the other hand, the prince seemed genuinely startled by the sudden lack of resistance from his opponent, and jumped off his own charger, holding out a hand to the general.

 

Daisuke wasn't happy. He enjoyed jousting; to him every new opponent was a challenge. This tournament had exposed him to a number of other knights from every station in life, and the prince was glad for the secret of his identity until the final fight; this way at least he knew that every knight who faced him was whole-heartedly fighting for a prize. He had expected the one to finally face him to be the greatest challenge yet, and the first round had proven that his opponent was no mean jouster, with his accurate aim and just the right amount of force. Moreover, anyone from the Spears of Heaven was bound to be skilled; rumour had it that they trained atop mountains to improve their stamina and breathing patterns, and everyone knew for a fact that those in the Order were trained from childhood. So why was this general, who was considered better than anyone else, so weak?

 

“Get up,” Daisuke heard himself order. When Dark did not move, the younger man leaned down and yanked the other man up to a sitting position. “I said, get up!”

 

Any illusions Dark might have harboured about the prince were immediately shattered at the anger in the other's voice. “What's all this about?” He asked deceptively mildly as he pushed the hand aside and stood up on his own. “Why are you so angry?” Yanking the helmet off his head, the purple-haired knight stood there, glaring at the prince. Status be damned; there was no need to get so agitated over a jousting match!

 

“You're not fighting properly!”

 

Dark smiled coolly. “Shouldn't you be happy? You're the winner. You get to brag about beating a general from the Spears of Heaven.”

 

The redhead scowled once more and yanked off his helmet. He leaned closely towards Dark, standing on his toes to meet the other's eyes squarely. “Because I don't care if I win! It's a competition, so you're supposed to fight with everything you have!”

 

In spite of the other's anger and his own irritation, Dark felt himself growing hot, and it wasn't because of the infernal heat either. “Look, I lost focus. So what?” A slap rang through the air, and the amethyst-eyed knight was sure that he wasn't the only one taken aback. He hastily touched his cheek and winced; that was definitely going to leave a mark, and a painful one at that. Even Daisuke himself looked a little shocked at what he had done.

 

“Your Highness.” Both knights turned to look at the blue-haired squire who had somehow managed to appear without either of them noticing. “May I be so bold to suggest that you leave this quarrel?” With an offended look at Dark, Daisuke stalked off. The general took the opportunity to leave, but found that the squire, in addition to a demeanour bordering on frozen, also had a grip of solid steel, much like Sergeant Walker's claw.

 

A few days later:

 

Dark heard the door open and looked at the servant who had brought him his meals. Although he was not in prison (thankfully), he was still virtually locked in the castle; the servants and guards all had strict orders not to let him pass the gates, and to watch him closely whenever he was in the courtyard. “Look, can you just let me out of here? I'm sure his Ladyship isn't just keeping me around for decoration.”

 

Of course, the answer was no, with an additional reprimand for implying that Daisuke was anything but a man. Sighing, the general looked out of the window and decided immediately that he was going to leave the castle tonight, come hell or high water. Kanda would have probably started off on his journey by now, and Milan had enough delights to last him for a week. The Italians were always so much more…accommodating…than the French. The only reason he hadn't already left was because of his curiosity, yet again. Dark had wanted to see what the redheaded prince would do to him; demand a rematch, most likely; but the other had made no move to approach him. The general had had enough.

 

That night:

 

Daisuke tossed and turned in his bed, unable to fall asleep. The general; Dark Mousy, it seemed his name was; had gradually invaded his thoughts. Satoshi had been kind enough to hold the other in the castle until Daisuke could ask for a rematch, but the redhead could not bring himself to do so. He was afraid that upon seeing the other knight, he would turn a shade of crimson only ever attained by his playmate and friend, Lord Raberba Winner. It didn't help, either, that he had always admired the Order of the Spears of Heaven, and as a child had dreamed of being chosen to train with the likes of Duke Kudou and Sir Hidaka. The general appeared to be everything a knight of the Order was supposed to be; dashing, handsome and certainly not stupid. The redhead flushed and swallowed hard; he was not supposed to be thinking these thoughts! Rolling out of bed and shivering slightly in the cool night air, he decided to go to the kitchens. Perhaps Kento, the chef, would have something left out for anyone who desired food in the middle of the night.

 

Dark froze at the sound of footsteps. It had been child's play to break out of his room, as he had thought, but it hadn't occurred to him that there might have been someone still awake at this hour.

 

“Who's there?” Daisuke called. “Show yourself!”

 

The general groaned inwardly. He'd better not try and find me. He suddenly turned pale as something moved swiftly in front of him, and only just managed to dodge the blow that seemed to come out of nowhere. “Idiot,” he snapped in a whisper, throwing a punch of his own that collided with the darkness and threw it backwards, into a patch of light streaming in through the window slit. “Your Highness?” He asked incredulously.

 

The redhead stood up quickly, fists ready and body tensed. “General Mousy?” He asked. Then a surprisingly devilish smile floated across his features for a split second before it returned to its angry gaze. “What are you doing at this hour?”

 

“Escaping. What else?” Dark was slightly worried about the expression he had just seen cross Daisuke's face, but he rationalized that the flicker had been just because of the dim light.

 

The prince smiled. “All right,” he conceded. “But you have to promise me one thing.”

 

Dark gaped at him, but at the same time a small part of the general could not but admire the élan that the prince had. “You lock me up in your castle for three days without even coming to see me once, you insult me, and you want to ask a favour of me?” At the unwavering crimson gaze, Dark found himself blinking slightly. Nevertheless, he continued to smile, knowing that the best way to throw an opponent off guard was to smile. Besides, the prince was probably used to having his own way. It wouldn't harm him to know that there were people out there who would oppose him.

 

At least he has the decency to blush, the general thought wryly as Daisuke flushed. And I have to admit, he does look rather fetching like that, especially in his night shirt. Dark had no qualms about thinking of men as being attractive; the Order had never reinforced the idea of homosexuality being wrong, and in any case, the Greeks hadn't seemed to mind at all. “So what is this favour of yours?' He moved closer to Daisuke, intending to catch the other unaware.

 

His tactic worked. “Y-y-you have to…um…” The redhead fidgeted. “You have to give me a rematch!” He blurted out. Dark brows rose as Dark considered the idea.

 

“Is that it?”

 

Regaining some semblance of control, Daisuke met the other's gaze, forcing himself not to look away or think that the other knight was quite attractive in his own way. “No. But you have to promise me this favour! The other one is linked, so you have to promise me first before I tell you the other half of the condition.”

 

Dark thought for a moment, then shrugged. “Why not?”

 

Daisuke didn't reply. Curiosity warred with the fear of doing something that would be considered high treason within Dark, and finally the general nodded once. The prince smiled. “You have to take me with you.”

 

That did it. “I don't have time for this,” the general sighed before turning to leave.

 

“You promised!” The prince protested.

 

“No, I did not.” Dark smiled. “I swore no oath. There is no promise. I owe you nothing.” Without a backward glance, he left the castle before he could snap and kidnap the younger man, or do something that he would sorely regret later on. Nevertheless, he wished that they could have met under more fortunate circumstances; he wanted to know just exactly how much of a virgin Daisuke Niwa, Crown-Prince of France, was.

 

Six years later:

 

Dark sighed and pushed the veil out of his eyes for what seemed like the hundredth time. The sun here was even stronger than in France or Italy, and the dry desert did nothing to help alleviate the heat. “Why do we have to come out here?” He asked his implacable guide. The other merely grunted into the desert sands and the general sighed. He seriously hoped that Al-Din Nassar had a good reason for demanding that someone higher than an ordinary agent from the Spears of Heaven meet him.

 

“Welcome.” Dark frowned; he knew that voice from somewhere. An old memory stirred, but the dust of time weighed too heavily on it and he shook his head, trying to clear it of the fog that had surrounded his thoughts ever since he had begun traveling through the desert. “I trust you had a good journey?” Looking up, Dark froze. Sitting next to Nassar was Prince Daisuke Niwa. “General Dark.” He smiled, and in spite of himself, the general felt a shiver go up his back and he unconsciously licked his lips at the thought of meeting the prince of France once more. Time had only improved Daisuke's grace, and where he had still been a little awkward, six years had smoothed out any minor defects which remained in the young man's bearing. He now carried himself like a true king.

 

“Greetings, Prince Niwa,” he softly said. “May the sun shine upon your days, and may you always find water and shade.” It was the traditional greeting of the desert tribes.

 

Daisuke turned to speak to the guards behind him, instructing them to leave the tent. Dark shifted uneasily, fervently praying that the other would not suddenly challenge him to a private duel or something foolishly dangerous. The memory of their last encounter was still fresh in his mind, and Dark did not think that the prince was one to lose focus so easily.

 

“You owe me a duel,” the redhead said finally.

 

The general wondered whether it was possible to scream at the prince and still get away with it. Reining his temper in, he smiled as politely and blandly as he could in the circumstances. “You wish to call in my debts now, your Highness?”

 

“Yes. And I believe there is still an unfinished matter regarding a promise you made to me six years ago.”

 

Dark blinked. “What promise?” He raised an eyebrow as the prince rose from his chair and walked over. “I am afraid I do not understand, your Highness.” He bowed once more to show his regret, but the redhead smiled once more.

 

“Rise, General Mousy,” he said. “You may yet make amends for your broken promise.”

 

Dark was baffled. When had he ever made a promise to the prince of France, the Crown-Prince no less? Seeing the older man's confusion, Daisuke sighed to himself. “You will travel with me as a companion, and be at my side at all times.”

 

“What?” Dark jerked up in spite of himself and stared at the prince. “Have you gone mad, your Highness?” He demanded bluntly. Tact had never been his strong point, save for when he was trying to explain to a noblewoman exactly why he had to leave her behind. “I am a general, a general of the Spears of Heaven! You are a Crown-Prince, valued and beloved by all your people. Do not think to associate with a man far below your position, and still escape with an intact reputation. Tongues will wag, and whether you care or no, my work depends on my position and there are few others who could carry it out equally well.”

 

Those crimson eyes lit up and in spite of the angelic smile that graced Daisuke Niwa's face, Dark could read determination in the other's eyes and knew that he would have to fight to keep his freedom. “Oh, do not mistake me, Dark,” the prince purred. The amethyst-eyed man shivered slightly at the sound and was grateful for the utter privacy of the tent. “I am not asking you to leave your job. I am merely asking you to accompany me on my travels. Documents can be read in any country, I believe, and I will not interfere with your private life overmuch. You will even be paid from the coffers of the royal palace. A singularly simple task, no?” Dark had to admit that the offer sounded appealing. Nevertheless, he glared stubbornly, refusing to give in.

 

“I do not believe that you will find my presence a greater help than that of your chief strategist's, or your squire's.”

 

“But I do, and my opinion is the only one that counts,” the prince pointed out quite reasonably. Dark wished fervently that Krad were here; the blond would soon have Daisuke sorted out and put this ridiculous notion of making Dark his `traveling companion' out of the younger man's mind. However, that treacherous voice within him whispered that he had little to lose, and as the prince's appointed traveling companion, he would have access to more information more easily.

 

Daisuke smiled and gently leaned closer, so that his breath brushed gently across the soldier's neck. Even in the oppressive heat and stuffiness of the tent, the purple-haired man could not repress a shudder. The treacherous voice grew louder, whilst his reason seemed to retreat into a dark corner of his mind. To his dismay, he opened his mouth and heard the words coming out of it as in a dream. “Yes,” he replied. “I accept your generous offer.”

 

That scheming expression disappeared, now replaced by a genuine smile of warmth, the one that most rulers saw and marveled at. Even Dark himself, who had just witnessed the man's ability to manipulate others into agreeing, felt more at ease now than he had done throughout the course of their meeting. “Thank you,” Daisuke whispered as he stood on his toes once more and brushed a kiss across the knight's lips. Stepping back in hasty surprise, the general only barely managed to restrain himself from lashing out at the Niwa.

 

“What are you doing?” He whispered in shock, remembering that there were probably guards outside the tent, and at the first sign of trouble they would not hesitate to pull the tent curtains apart and enter. He did not want to be hauled off for corrupting the prince, nor did he want to be excommunicated and killed for sodomy. The general cursed his impetuousness once more; Krad had always said that that attribute would be his downfall.

 

“I know what you want,” Daisuke whispered softly once more, his eyes large and almost luminous in the dim light. “I saw the way you looked at me that night.” Dark couldn't say anything, rooted to the ground with his thoughts whirling about like some spinning top gone mad. “You want me, don't you?”

 

Dark could only attempt to stammer out a clumsy reply, but was cut off once more by the feeling of Daisuke's lips pressing against his once more, this time a little more fiercely. “Isn't it…?” The knight attempted to ask, only to be cut off once more. As he felt Daisuke guiding him backwards, he vaguely wondered when he had ever thought that the prince of France was innocent; there was no way on earth he could have possibly planned this out.

 

“You're mine,” Daisuke whispered as he happily nuzzled the crook between Dark's shoulder and neck.

 

Well, as my mentor used to say…carpe diem, the knight thought before responding to the other's advances, kissing him fiercely. Outside, the guards stood, oblivious to what was going on inside the tent.

 

Fin

 

Now I know what people mean when they say that the story `grew a life of its own'. This one evolved as I went through and it was only when I got to the `six years later' part that I realized that Dark might not be so…Dark in this one. And I started this fic thinking that Dark would win the tournament and ask for Daisuke instead, but somehow that idea went pear-shaped on me too. But I guess I'm pretty happy with the result.

 

Have a great Chinese New Year, everyone! Thank you for reading!