Note: For the record, section five has some dialogue taken straight from Lady Knight . Beware, as this fic has not seen either a beta-reader or my usually twenty-four-hour-waiting-period before posting.

Five Things That Never Happened to Wyldon of Cavall

I.

“All first born sons are sent to the palace to train for their shield,” said Lady Inalda gently to her second-oldest child. “But the younger ones are free to experience whatever they desire in life.”

Eight-year-old Wyldon kept his head down, as always, but looked up at his mother through his mop of unruly brown hair. “So I don’t have to be a knight?”

Inalda smiled. “Only if you want to. You could be a scholar. Or a diplomat. Or you can join the King’s Own. You could even stay here and learn to care for your father’s kennels.”

Wyldon’s head lifted and his eyes lit up. “I could help with the breeding? I could raise the pups and train them?”

“Of course you can. But you can’t neglect your studies, and you must continue learning the bow with your father. Borderlands are dangerous, and you must help us defend the fief while your older brother is at the palace. Will you promise to do that?”

The boy fidgeted as much as he could get away with under his strict mother’s eye. She knew he didn’t like shooting or riding, and he was reluctant to hunt, unlike his father and brother. But if she told him it was his duty, he would do it. “Will you promise?” she asked again.

He nodded. He was a good boy.

II.

Of all the palace pages, Wyldon was the smallest. He was scrawny and short and half the size of the squires. And they were sure to remind him of this fact, constantly pushing him down stairs and practicing extra-rough with him on the courts.

“And how did you manage to hurt yourself this time?” Sir Gareth of Naxen asked from behind his large oak desk.

“I fell, sir,” Wyldon mumbled.

“Speak up, now. Knights don’t shy away from authority.” Sir Gareth’s voice was not angry.

Wyldon looked up into the training master’s eyes. “I fell,” he repeated.

Sir Gareth sighed. “Am I ever going to hear the truth from you boys? Will no one ever say ‘Page Paidrag has been bullying me’ and have it out in the open once and for all?”

Wyldon felt his face burn. “I fell, sir.”

He left the office after a few more minutes of questioning. Once he was back in his room, he slumped to the floor behind the closed door. He can’t fix anything if you don’t tell him, a small voice chided in the back of his head. Wyldon scowled. A good training master would know it was going on and stop it before it happened.

III.

“I’m sorry, sire, but there’s no way I can do this,” Lord Wyldon said with a tight frown. Beside him he could hear the Lioness growling.

“We want you to train this girl,” the king repeated. It was not a request.

“I understand the importance of the alliance with the Yamani Islands, sire,” Wyldon said slowly. He absent-mindedly rubbed his arm as he spoke. “However, this is a nation of people whose women fight only for defense. How would they feel about an alliance with a nation that allows its women—its mothers and sisters and daughters—to defend its men?”

The Lioness rose to her feet angrily. “Who do you think saves their boys from raiding pirates? Do you think less of your king for sending me with the army that defended your fief during the war? Do you think the Yamanis would be offended if the daughter of—”

“Alanna. ” King Jonathan cut her off with a hiss. He sighed, then turned back to Wyldon. “If you cannot train Keladry of Mindelan with the rest of the pages, I will have to find someone else.”

“Yes, that seems to be the best choice of action,” Wyldon replied. “I will pack my things and be gone within the week.”

IV.

Despite the snow, Lord Wyldon headed out of the palace with hopes of reaching home in good time. He was traveling light, as always, and had arranged for most of his belongings to be shipped later, when the snow thawed.

He mounted his horse and headed toward the Conte road, enjoying his solitude. Getting away from the bustle of palace life would be pleasant. Serving with the active military would be refreshing, after fifteen years of training children. He looked forward to border patrol in the North; the Scanran raiding parties had increased tenfold over the last season, according to the reports. But first he needed to go home. Talk to Viven.

He remembered Mindelan’s words the afternoon before, and frowned. How had he managed to fail with the boys he felt most promising, and succeed with the girl he would have willingly left behind?

He stopped an hour past noon, when he came across an inn. He led Heart to the stables and tossed a silver coin to the teenaged boy who tended the horses. “You’re traveling alone, my lord?” the boy asked. He recognized the Cavall colors from the various summer trips taken with the pages.

“I have no pages this time around,” Lord Wyldon replied. “And no squire.”

V.

“I would like a moment alone with the Lady Knight,” said Wyldon formally.

Neal and Owen didn’t leave. “You’re not going to yell at her,” Owen commanded. “Because you can’t. She doesn’t deserve to be yelled at, not after losing so many people and killing Blayce and being wounded and keeping us alive.”

“I do not intend to yell at her. Now will you go away?”

The young men listened, and before leaving they helped Keladry to her feet. She knocked the grass and mud off of her knees before looking Wyldon in the eyes. “You have every right to yell at me, my lord. Go ahead. I deserve worse.”

Hearing those words, seeing her expression of sullenness mixed with a refusal to look down at the ground, knowing that she felt her dishonor of his foolish command worthy of a death on traitor’s hill moved something in him. He took a step closer, cupped her head in shaking hands, and kissed her.

“You are a true knight, Keldary of Mindelan,” he whispered. “I am honored to know you.” He kissed her again.