Hello, I Have Read That The Mantas Put 20 Eggs But Inside This 20 Eggs (mermaid Pocket) They Have 400

Raining at Versailles

James Dean in Rebel Without a Cause (1955)

Love at first s(word f)ight. With Gawain? Feel like that could be some hot shit. Thx babes! xx

A/N: All I know about Knight Tournaments comes from “A Knight's Tale” starring Heath Leger (RIP King). Work with me here. Masterlist // buy me a coffee 🥰// Word count: 1,241

You had expected your father to say “no,” to the tournament. You had some sense of logic, but it was still a great annoyance. You were the third daughter of your family, and your brother was already poised to take control as the new lord of your small pocket of land.

Your father had no reason to say no, but he did anyway.

The man had trained you to fight, as your older brother was weakened with a health condition no one in your family would talk about. Someone had to keep the family techniques alive, but at the same time, you were never to use it unless your life was in mortal danger.

Fuck that.

So you signed up under your brother’s name, tied your hair back, got your gear, and left.

It was easy until round four, everything else seemed so far away now.

You weren’t entirely sure what the fuck was happening. The crowd was going insane, and your opponent knew every move you would make before you did. You were smart, strong, and for the most part, organized. And this knight was your perfect match.

Gawain was thinking the exact same, only he was a little more annoyed as this was supposed to be fun.

After his first quest, he’d come back somber and withdrawn. After urging from his mother, he’d agreed to “do something for himself”, so he’d chosen a local tournament.

Normally, due to his status as the King’s nephew, he’d simply compete for two rounds, and drop out due to “injury”, as to not draw sway any judges looking for his favor, or draw any particular ire from any opponent in the ring.

This time, he’d chosen to enter a tournament under a fake name. Not the best idea for a man of his standing, or the most original, but it was supposed to be easy. He needed it easy after confronting the Green Knight. He deserved it

Up until round four had been easy. and then there was you.

As your father had told you, “tall, burly men only know how to fight their own.” He’d been right, but your opponent was tall, he was clearly more lean, agile than the rest you’d defeated. You were smaller than your other opponents and used your speed to your advantage. It looked as if you weren’t getting away with it this time.

Every move he made was predictable, because you were going to do the same. If you had been in the mood to ponder such things, you’d have known at that moment he was a royal. The fighting style was too refined and smooth as opposed to your previous adversaries who had been taught to strike as hard as they could.

Watching the two of you fight was a savage and brilliant thing, but it’s not as if any of the peasants who frequented such events knew such words.

But both you and Gawain did, and that’s what mattered. It was a part of this even-matched fight, and a reason that you were both nearing your wits end with the other.

It’s in small moments like these, where one really finds out what kind of person they are. You knew it, Gawain knew it, and you certainly were going to act accordingly.

Gawain didn’t. He knew it was a cheap shot, but he did it anyway.

His fist connected with the jaw of your helmet with an alarming force, sending you down to your knees.

In the moment, you were absolutely livid. Your helmet had been struck with such a force that it was sent halfway across the ring, leaving you totally exposed.

You gasped, attempting to right yourself, as you felt the cold metal of the blade tilt your chin up.

Gawain sharply inhaled when taking you in.

Your hair had been tied back, but the force of the blow had left it in the dirt, leaving your soft hair to scatter across your face.

Gawain was sure he was going to die.

Clear, beautiful eyes. An elegant nose, and he could hardly bring himself to look at your mouth as he was still your opponent, even if his mind was racing at the sight of your face.

But a dull thud of reality set in across the inside of his skull, as it usually did.

A woman. He’d just punched a woman.

The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Gawain’s mind snapped back from trying to memorize your features as he realized his sword had wandered down to your newly-exposed throat. He barely hid a shiver as you cleared your throat and spat a bloody clump onto the dirt between his feet.

He was supposed to be here.

He’d just met his future queen.

“Do you yield?” Gawain asked, voice feeling hoarse and far away. He’ll blame the fact you were a vicious and smart opponent, and not the fact that seeing your eyes sent a lightning bolt straight to his heart.

A woman. The most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. Of course you looked as if you could snap him in half at that moment, but that was hardly new for Gawain.

You huffed, breath sending some strands of hair out of your eyes.

“No.” You used your gauntlet to knock his sword away and swiftly got up from your knees, striking your opponent square in the jaw of his helmet. The helmet didn’t come off, not that you were surprised at that, you didn’t use your usual amount of force. You’d later ask yourself why, but the answer would reveal itself in time.

Gawain wasn’t sure what had happened until he hit the ground.

It was love. It had to be love.

Whatever he’d been through with the Bertilaks had been lust, but whatever this was more. It had to be more, or his mind had truly not come back from his quest in one piece.

As Gawain fell, the screaming crowd faded into the back of his brain, as he tried his best to make a plan. It was a tough feat to accomplish with all of the blood rushing to one’s ears, but he’d win you over.

You didn’t know his face, but he’d win you over. He had to. Deep in his bones, he had to.

And Gawain goes down hard, in more ways than one, ears ringing in his helmet as the weight of his armor took him down. The referee rings their bell and the match is over, you're on to the next round tomorrow. Four rounds in two days was a lot, but you wanted this. You deserved this.

As you put your helmet back over your head, you felt your body begin to shake. The adrenaline started to take its toll as your mind started to race. Good. The fight was over, you could think at a reasonable pace.

Why did he do that for you?

Did he even mean to?

He left himself open and he stared at you. Two big, dark eyes staring at you like you were the moon or … something beautiful.

It wasn't as if you could find this ‘Sir Kay’ and ask, but you can feel the same gaze following you as you hustle away to your tent to change.

French legal documents dating from 1847 and 1832. I’ll transcribe and translate soon. 

IG : saint.rouge

Possessed (Curtis Bernhardt, 1947)

Film posters for Robert Eggers’ The Witch by Midnight Marauder.

huge shoutout to trees and also rain

Benjamin Alire Saenz, The Inexplicable Logic of My Life

uHhhhh okay marry me

when anton chekhov said “develop the aesthetic feeling in yourself. allow your heart to ache for what the eye does not see”