The Yuletide festival was nearly upon Gotham.

It was six days before the festival itself, and the King prowled, sleepless and cagey, along the great wall that separated the castle from the surrounding villages. The night was bone-chillingly cold, but under woolen hose, a fleece-lined tunic, and a heavy leather cape, he hardly felt the temperature.

It was an ungodly hour of the night, but he was nonetheless restless. He�d chosen to walk outside because, near Yuletide, the castle interior always became crowded and smelly. Also because he loved the night. It was his element, where he felt most comfortable. It was a habit that bothered many people, and had earned him the nickname "The Bat" for his association to the nocturnal flying predator.

He breathed in the sharp wintry air and exhaled, watching the steam of his breath float away into the night.

Suddenly, he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye.

He crouched, slipping into the shadows, watching the figure move in the darkness. Then, as it passed, he pounced. The figure gave a startled cry and rammed its knee into his solar plexus. Hard.

The breath exploded from his lungs and agony ripped through his body.

Bruce cursed inwardly and rolled to his feet, getting his first good look at the man sneaking around on the palace wall, hours past midnight. He saw his foe and abandoned his defensive stance, laughing raspingly.

"William, if you frighten me like that again, I�ll kill you."

The young knight sighed and shook his head, realizing who his attacker was. "Forgive me, my king. I did not expect to be attacked on a nighttime walk." The King took a few slow deep breaths to calm his buzzing nerves and to dissipate the pain that had shot up his spinal cord.

"I didn�t expect to meet with anyone on a nighttime walk." He replied. William sniffed and folded his arms.

The King tilted his head. It was odd how�how incredibly feminine the Flower of Serving Men looked. It worked to his advantage, though. People underestimated him, let their guard down, and he struck like a thunderstorm.

He shook his head. Like he had during their second match. William had downplayed his strengths; he had become overconfident, and thus had ended up lying dazed in the dust at the feet of a smirking William. God, that had been embarrassing.

"Forgive me if I startled you," the knight continued. "The stench in the palace was becoming insufferable." The king nodded in agreement.

"I notice you don�t get cold very easily," He said, referring to William�s thin shirt and simple trousers.

"No, Your Majesty, I suppose I don�t, " the Flower Of Serving Men replied vaguely.

Then, changing the subject, "If you don�t mind me asking, Majesty, what brings you outside in the dead of the night?"

"I like the dark." The monarch said simply. Without realizing it, he had begun to walk again, but no longer at a prowl. Sir William met his pace.

"That doesn�t tell me very much," he observed in his strangely soft, womanly voice.

The King frowned. "It�s easier to frighten someone in the dark. Easier to surprise an opponent. Easier to hide from danger." "You don�t strike me as one who would hide from danger." He gave a predatory smile. "Only until I find a better moment to strike."

William�s full lips curved into a sardonic smile. "I thought as much, Sire." Bowing, he steeped away from his monarch. "By your leave, Majesty, I will retire and leave you to your walk."

The king nodded. "Very well. Good evening, Sir William"

The knight in question bowed again, and slipped quietly into the darkness.

The King frowned. For a moment he thought he�d seen something in the way William had walked�but no. What he was thinking was ridiculous. Chuckling to himself, the King returned to his silent patrol of the castle wall alone.

***

Diana sat in a corner of the Great hall and moped, nursing a goblet of white wine. She hated parties. With a passion. And it was even worse now that she was pretending to be a man. She was expected to act as every other man in the room; hopelessly drunk, self-centered, flirtatious to a fault, and about as intelligent as the average wagon wheel.

She glared sullenly over at the King. Well, someone was surely enjoying himself, at the very least.

The king held a goblet of wine in one hand, and the waistband of Countess Selina Kyle in the other. He was actively engaged in a vividly animated conversation with a group of other nobles. She rolled her eyes. The man who had had too much to drink and sounded so vapid she wanted to be sick was not the same man she�d spoken to -bare night's ago- on the palace wall.

As she watched the Countess practically drape herself across the King�s body, she growled under her breath. For just a moment, she wished she could switch places with the countess, then shoved the thought away with a regretful and angry sigh.

She felt a pang of an emotion she wasn�t used to feeling-- jealousy. She mentally berated herself for the feeling. She was not one of the weak, hapless palace women, incapable of doing aught but swooning in the arms of some noble with a drastically inflated ego. She was a warrior.

Such thoughts about him were not only foolish, but also unproductive and self-defeating. She and he would never be lovers, even if she'd let herself consider the idea, --after all, he didn't even know she was a woman--and besides, she had no business looking at the King with longing like some twittering castle ornament. In fact, if things went as planned, he would never even know that she was a woman. And, anyway, she still sometimes thought of her Traeverus�

She felt a little betrayed as she looked over at the king, whose hand was straying perilously close to the countess' neckline. She had thought that he was nobler than that. Had thought that he was different. She had evidently been wrong.

In a way it was too bad, and in another way it was for the best, and in yet another-the bitter part of her said- he deserved it. Or rather, he didn't deserve her�

"Sometimes it�s almost as if he�s two different people," mused a rich, deep voice from behind her.

She turned and saw the Lord of Kent, the same man in blue that had questioned her that first night in the palace--not to mention the fact that he happened to be one of the few non-intoxicated people in the room--, standing behind her.

There was a look of faint disgust on his face as he watched the King. He absently swirled the contents of his wine goblet as he continued, "On the one hand you have a brave, unwaveringly loyal, skilled leader and ruler, and on the other hand you have�" He gestured to the King of Gotham, who was now laughing raucously at some nobles undoubtedly petty joke. "Well�you have�him."

"Is he usually this bad?" she questioned. Perhaps she'd been too hasty in her judgement of him.

"Sometimes. A few times, it�s been even worse. But there are also the occasions he�s been known to come to these gatherings and ignore everyone." He smiled at her, who he thought was a man. "Much like you are doing right now, in fact."

"I don�t like banquets," She grumbled, sullenly, wishing immediately that he'd go away. They were having such a nice conversation, too. Until he brought up the subject of her.

"You aren�t very social, are you?" He asked.

"No." Was her snappish reply.

Kent�s lord laughed, genially. "Let me guess; you�re shy around women."

"You�might say that."

The Lord nodded. "Yes, I, myself, have been jealous of our good King and his numerous romances from time to time. And judging by the look on your face, you�re fairly envious of him as well."

"Very perceptive," she murmured. And he was�he�d just confused the objects of her jealousy.

"Come," invited the Lord, rising. "I�ll introduce you to the Lady Zatanna. She noticed you over here earlier, and you�ll�Ahem, enjoy her company tonight, I believe."

Diana blushed. True, when she had been on Themyscira, there was a rather high level of inter-gender romance�but if someone was interested in her because they were under the impression that she was a man� That was completely different.

"No, but thank you all the same," She muttered, staring at her feet. "I think I�ll return to my chamber for the night by myself, if it's all the same to you."

The lord shrugged, slightly irritated by the young Knight�s unwavering sulleness.

"Suit yourself, Flower of Serving Men," He told her. "And enjoy the company of your wineglass."

She fought the urge to strike him before he left. Damn, it was harder to pretend to be a man than it seemed.

She gave one last look at the King, who was preoccupied with leading the Countess up the tall spiral staircase that sprawled in the corner of the great, vaulting Hall. They were heading in the direction of his bedchambers.

Dejected and angry, both with herself and with him, she turned trudged out of the Hall to her own chambers, alone.

***

The king sat in his quarters, his quill scratching out a message on a piece of heavy parchment. He had sent the message to Sir William requesting audience bare minutes ago, so he should be here�well, now.

There was a sound outside of the great ebony door to his chambers, and he pushed his parchment aside and got to his feet.

"Come!" he called.

A slightly annoyed Sir William of Sumurset entered his room, wearing a long, sky-blue cape; a leather riding outfit, and soft, pure white gloves made from lamb's hide.

He frowned at the sullen look on William's face. "I'm sorry. Did I interrupt your morning ride?" He'd forgotten that William sometimes took long rides that began at early dawn, which often lasted well into the morning.

"Yes, Your Highness, you did."

The King tilted his head, slightly troubled by William's terse statement. The Knight was not usually this irritable.

"Forgive me. I have to ask you something. Most of my knights and nobles have their own fiefdoms to take care of, and very soon there will be precious few of them at court to defend Gotham, if need be. I'd like to know; are you planning on staying permanently, or will you be going home?"

William looked as if he was caught off-guard at the question. It took him a moment to compose himself for an answer. "I'll be staying here at court." He said, finally.

"Good. You may continue your ride." He turned back to his papers, then again looked up at William as he thought of something.

"Wait."

The Knight stopped and looked back at his King.

"I know you were born in Sumurset, but you could not have been there your whole life and know all you do of this place--Sumurset is, after all, an independent Kingdom--so where did you come from?"

Oddly, William tensed at the question. "The Barony of Lord Traeverus," he said shortly, finally, and slipped out of the room before the King could stop him.

He sat down, perplexed by William's attitude. There was nothing amiss with hailing from Sumurset. Come to think of it, he hadn't received word from there in quite awhile. He'd ask if Kal had any news of Lord Trevaerus when he next saw him. Lord knew, the man could get there and back in seconds�

He returned to his parchment.

***