Kings And Queens

Who Am I?

Stiles woke up feeling different, more energized. The nightmare still haunting him.

He got ready on his own, pulling on his own clothes and he went down to the kitchen and found a plate ready for him. One of the conditions he had set. The cook can make his food, but he would be the one to get it.

This time it was sausage, cheese, bread, and two hard boiled eggs. Something to provide him with more protein to last him throughout the day. He ate it all and was still hungry, but he still went to the training camp outside the castle walls in a field.

"You're early," Leon said as he came out a couple minutes later.

"Early bird gets the worm," Stiles said, confusing the knight, and Stiles shook his head then added,"Nevermind. What are we doing today?"

"Today we focus on building your stamina and strength," Leon said.

"Oh, so I don't get a sword today?" Stiles asked, a little disappointed.

"You will not get a sword today," Leon corrected.

"Alright, man. If you're just going to keep correcting my grammar the whole time, this is going to be a very long day for both of us," Stiles told him.

"I'll keep that in mind," Leon said.

Stiles started off with just jogging around the field, wearing the same weighted tunic as before, making each step heavier.

He just continued to run, his feet probably bleeding on the inside of his boots, but he just kept going. He watched the other knights train. Practicing with various different weapons.

Leon and Percival sparred and Stiles watched with fascination, it wasn't just about swinging the sword. It was about footwork, the angle of the blade. Finding an opening in your opponent's defense and thinking ahead.

Stiles stopped running, his lungs burning, he limped with each step to a table. Grabbing the metal pitcher and about to drink out of it, not bothering with the wooden goblets set out.

But it was ripped from his grasp by another knight,"The Knights first, traveler," The guy who only looked a couple years older than Stiles said, not even a proper beard like some of the other knights.

"First come first served," Stiles growled, grabbing it again, making some of the water splash out.

"I am the Knight Tristan, you will show me some respect," He growled.

"Fine, you thirsty? Here you go," Stiles dumped the whole pitcher on his head.

"You dare--" Tristan said, drawing his sword but Stiles punched him in the face, causing him to stumble back.

Stiles grunted, holding his hand. And he realized that it was probably the third time he's ever punched someone.

Tristan stood up straight, his sword raised.

Hearing the commotion, the other knights turned toward them. Leon started forward to stop the fight, but Percival stopped him,"Wait, let us see what will happen when Stiles is under pressure of danger."

On the inside, Stiles was freaking out. He cursed himself over and over again and knew that it'd probably be best to apologize and get it over with. But he couldn't even start. Some kind of a mental block that kept him from not giving in to intimidation, to rank. It had been a continuous problem in his life. He never liked doing what he was told, nobody did, but for him it went on a deeper level.

Tristan swung his sword, and Stiles jumped back, barely able to avoid the point.

"Traveler!" Someone shouted, tossing a sheathed sword, and amazingly he caught it.