Quiver and Crown // KateLena

Flight of Doves

"Just keep your chin up, kid. He was proud of you," Clint advised the young girl beside him, hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Tensions were high; it wasn't often a knight died in service these days, and some in the kingdom suspected more nefarious causes than the skirmish touted as the cause of death. "He loved you, Kate."

Kate just nodded, eyes glazed over as she walked aside Clint down the ornate halls of the palace. She tugged at the fabric of her formal dress, hot and scratchy on her neck. She would much rather be in knight's armor like Clint proudly donned, every piece golden to represent years of service, but alas, she was only fourteen and had not yet begun training. She was not yet a knight. But one day, she vowed, she would be.

"Here we are," Clint said, stopping before the doors of the palace's chapel. "Now listen, kid. I'll be honest with you, this won't be fun. People you don't know will be patting you on the back, telling you how close they were with your dad."

"Good pep talk," Kate said, raising an eyebrow. She turned to enter the chapel, but Clint stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder, eyes more sincere than Kate had ever seen them.

"All I'm saying is... I'm sorry. This isn't fair. And..." he removed his hand, placing it back on his sword hilt. "I'm here for you."

"Thanks, old man."

The two entered the already crowded chapel, rows filled with knights and lesser nobles. Kate held out hope the King and Queen or at least the Princesses would show, but that was a tall ask for the funeral of one knight. Kate made her rounds, greeting soldiers and guards, then found a seat at the back of the chapel, not wanting any more attention. A friend of her father's, a captain of the guard, began his speech on life and loss, and Kate almost wanted to drift off as the man's speech felt like it spanned hours. Her eyes were just falling softly shut when she felt a presence sneak in beside her.

"Sleeping at a funeral, Kate Bishop..."

Without opening her eyes, Kate knew who the voice belonged to. She smiled despite herself, whispering, "skipping your duties, are we, Princess?"

"My duties to my country, yes," the girl slung an arm around Kate's shoulders. "My duty to my best friend? Not a chance."

Princess Yelena's presence was comforting, and Kate sat up a little straighter as the funeral concluded. She took Clint's advice, held her head high as she filed out of the chapel, Yelena's arm through hers. As an orphan in this world of volatile kings and deceptive men, she could not appear weak. She would survive this cold world, and with a princess at her side, the task was not as daunting. Friends in high places were more valuable than heaps of gold.

"Thank you for coming," Kate said as the pair reached Yelena's quarters. "I know it probably wasn't easy to get out of whatever meeting you had."

Yelena leaned against her doorframe, one hand laced in Kate's. "It was worth it."

Kate was unusually quiet as her carriage wobbled through the cobbled streets of Aram, the kingdom's capital. The city looked exactly how she left it so many years ago, when Clint offered her a position on the Rangers and she accepted without a second thought. After her father's death, she felt the capital had little else to offer her, so with no prospects, she began her knight training in the Plains with her mentor.

"It's strange being back, isn't it?" Clint asked across from her, his golden armor gleaming in the little sunlight that beamed through the carriage window. "Six years..."