Chapter Text
She’s a mere nine-year-old when she looks up at one of the big screens and sees him. Ballister Blackheart. The street kid, the commoner , who gets to be a knight. Or, he gets to try, which is more than any other street kid has ever done. She looks up at him, someone like her, and her mouth falls open.
“Charlotte, baby, what are you looking at?” Her eyes don’t move from the screen as her mom walks back toward her. Her mom, Minara Corova, follows her gaze up to the screen.
“He’s very lucky, isn’t he? We’ll all be cheering for him,” Minara says, leaning down slightly to set her hand on her daughter’s shoulder. But Charlotte Corova doesn’t want to simply cheer.
“I want to do that,” she says. “I want to be a knight, like Ballister.” Her mom stills next to her, eyes wide as she looks at her daughter.
“I’m not sure they’re going to be letting in any more of us, dear. I think that might be a bit too much,” she says gently. Charlotte finally pulls her gaze away from the big screen, looking at her mom with sparkling blue eyes.
“If I want to be like Ballister, I have to try, don’t I? You always said I have to work for my dreams!” she says. Minara purses her lips, and Charlotte looks away, fist against her chin as she thinks. “Maybe if I do what Ballister did and jump over the fence-”
“No!” Charlotte looks over at her mom’s outburst, and Minara holds up a hand. “No, dear. I don’t think that would be wise. Now, listen to me, alright? Are you absolutely certain that this is what you want to do? Is it just because you want to be like Ballister?”
“I want to be like him, but I also want to help! If I become a knight, I can help and protect people! I can make things better for us! You can move into the upper city, and you’ll never have to work again!” Minara smiles gently, tucking a blonde strand behind her daughter’s ear.
“Okay. I might have an idea. But I have to make sure you know that this isn’t certain. I can’t promise you it will work. Is that okay?” she asks. Charlotte nods enthusiastically, and Minara chuckles. “Give me just a few days, and we’ll see what I can do.” When she rises again, Charlotte takes her hand and begins swinging it back and forth as they walk. The young girl’s head is newly filled with dreams of shiny armor, knighthood, and the title of Hero of the Realm.
They don’t own any “nice” clothes in the typical sense of the word. They own clothes that aren’t as tattered, worn, or patchworked as the rest. The dark blue dress she’s currently in is the only one Charlotte owns that fits her properly, in comparison to the oversized hand-me-downs she usually wears. She doesn’t exactly understand why they’re in their best clothes until they start walking toward what must be the fanciest place that she’s ever seen. She’s seen the Institute and the castle before, but this place could be a miniature palace (though, miniature would be the wrong word to describe it).
“What is this place?” she asks, squeezing her mom’s hand tightly. She hears her mom take a deep breath.
“This is the Goldenloin manor,” she says. Charlotte goes bug-eyed as her head snaps toward her mom.
“ Goldenloin? ” she cries. Minara shushes her, and Charlotte claps her hands over her mouth, moving them slightly to whisper, with just as much shock as before, “Goldenloin?” Minara sighs and strokes her hand over Charlotte’s hair.
“Yes, dear, Goldenloin. They want to meet you,” she says. Charlotte lowers her hands, mouth agape.
“Meet me ? Why?” she asks. Minara smiles softly at her.
“Well, we could find out if we ever got to the door,” she says, a teasing lilt to her voice. Charlotte grins, quickly taking her hand again. A large fence surrounds the property, and there’s a fancy gate into it. After Minara has them buzzed in, they walk down a long path toward the house—though “house” feels like too plain a word to describe it—and Charlotte is practically vibrating with excitement. “Now, Charlotte, I need you to be on your best behavior, alright? I know that you’re excited, but if you want to be a knight, you need to behave like one first, alright?” Charlotte nods, and she makes an effort to calm herself down as they get close to the door. She looks up at her mom, watching as Minara straightens her back and smoothes down her dress before she knocks on the door. Charlotte finds herself standing up straighter as well, and she brushes her hand over her dress before quickly throwing it back to her side as the door opens. An older man with a mustache is standing on the other side, face neutral.
“Good morning, Ms. Corova. They’ve been expecting you. Come in,” he says, stepping aside to let them in. Minara bows her head respectfully.
“Thank you, sir,” she says, stepping past the threshold and into the house. Charlotte moves a little closer to her mom’s side, feeling incredibly small from the sheer size of the room around them. The door is closed behind them, and the man gestures ahead.
“Right this way, ladies. The Goldenloins are waiting in the study,” he says, before turning on his heels and leading them away from the front door. Charlotte tries not to stare as they walk through the enormous house, but she’s never seen so much… stuff in her life. Is this what all the noble families’ homes look like? Could she have a house like this if she becomes a knight? The idea both excites and terrifies her. She snaps her attention ahead when two doors are pushed open, and the man in front of them sweeps to the side to gesture to herself and her mom. “The Corova’s, m’lords.” Charlotte stops beside her mom, and she feels frozen there. Augustus and Olympia Goldenloin are just a few feet away, seated in fancy, plush-looking chairs. And they’re looking at her .
“Thank you, Magnus. That will be all,” Olympia says. The man bows his head, stepping away and closing the doors behind him. Charlotte suddenly feels like she needs to fidget. Does she look presentable? Like knight material? Her mom releases her hand, stepping forward and curtsying.
“M’lords,” she says. After her mom has straightened, Charlotte clears her throat a bit and steps forward, trying to copy her mom’s cursty despite having never done it before.
“Lord Goldenloin,” she says with utmost respect, facing first toward Augustus Goldenloin, then turning toward Olympia Goldenloin. “Dame Goldenloin.” She feels incredibly clumsy, but she hopes that it’s good enough. She’ll have to learn to do a proper curtsy before she comes back. If she comes back. When she lifts her head, the Goldenloins are looking at her with strange expressions, and she worries that she’s done something wrong. Has she offended them already? Did she use the wrong title for Olympia? Should it have been Lady Goldenloin? Is she a Lord too? Or should it have been Sir since she’s still technically a knight? However, after a moment, the strange look vanishes from Olympia Goldenloin’s face, and she smiles politely.
“Hello, young lady. You must be Charlotte,” she says. She glances up at Minara, gesturing toward the nearby sofa. “Please, sit.” Charlotte follows her mom to the sofa, then tries to mirror her position as she sits.
“Thank you, Dame Goldenloin,” Minara says politely. The Dame’s smile becomes a bit more genuine.
“Please, there’s no need for the formalities. Call me Olympia,” she says. Some of Charlotte’s nervousness melts away at that. Olympia seems incredibly nice, but she thinks that’s to be expected of knights. When Olympia turns her gaze toward Charlotte, her smile widens even more. “I hear that you’d like to be a knight, Charlotte.” Charlotte sits up, nodding.
“Yes, ma’am,” she says. Olympia folds her hands in her lap, tilting her head slightly.
“And why is that?” she asks. Charlotte resists the urge to mimic the noblewoman’s pose.
“I want to protect the realm and help people, ma’am. I think that the best way for me to do that is to be a knight.” Olympia hums.
“Are you a hard worker, Charlotte?”
“Of course, ma’am.”
“Good at listening and following directions?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And you would do everything you could to make sure you were the best knight you could be?”
“Yes, ma’am. That’s all I want.” Olympia’s gaze lingers on her for a moment, before turning away and landing on her husband.
“What do you think, Augustus?” she asks. Augustus Goldenloin looks a bit startled when she speaks to him, but he quickly composes himself and clears his throat.
“I think that from all we’ve been told, Charlotte…has potential,” he says, though something about his words and tone are almost cautious. Olympia hums thoughtfully.
“I’m glad we agree.” She looks back at Charlotte. “This won’t be an easy feat, Charlotte. But I see something great in you, perhaps in the same way that the Queen sees something in Ballister Blackheart. If you’re willing to work hard and follow some rules, I believe that we can make your wish come true.” At first, Charlotte is at a loss for words. Then, she realizes that Olympia is waiting for her to say something, and she quickly clears her throat and bows her head.
“Thank you, Dame Goldenloin. I promise that I will!” she says. Olympia chuckles.
“Then, I suppose we should get to work.”
In preparation for her entry into the Institute, a careful lie must be crafted. With Ballister’s very recent entry and the backlash from the kingdom, they can’t simply send her in as herself. Instead, she’s given a new last name to sound more knightly and noble: Swiftheart. Part of her is saddened by the loss of her mother’s surname, but her mom had reassured her that it was alright. Next, she was given a backstory to memorize. She was from a noble family which had unfortunately died a few years prior, with her as the only survivor. She was kept out of the public eye until she was old enough to become a knight so that she could carry on her family’s legacy. She’s given a very brief lesson in how to act noble—she learns the proper way to bow instead of how to curtsy, for example—and a few new sets of plain but nice clothes are bought for her. She’s given new shoes and some supplies for school, and she thinks it might be the most new things she’s ever gotten in her life. She’d thanked Olympia and Augustus profusely for each and every one, to the point where Olympia had gently asked her to stop, saying that they didn’t need her thanks as long as she kept her promise to work hard. Lastly, there are two rules that Charlotte is to follow: 1. No one can know her real identity as a commoner, and 2. If anyone does find out about the lie, Charlotte must not tell that the Goldenloins were involved. Very simple and self-explanatory rules, in her opinion.
“Charlotte Swiftheart.” She looks up at her mom, who’s standing nearby, watching her as she practices signing her new name over and over. She only has one more day to perfect it. She’ll be heading to the Institute two days from now, bright and early in the morning. She’ll have to sign all of her paperwork with this new name, and she doesn’t want to mess up before she’s even properly in the place. Charlotte looks at her mom’s face for a moment, then frowns softly.
“Are you sad, mom?” she asks. Minara smiles at her, but Charlotte can see the sad tinge to it.
“Only because you’re going to be far away, my dear,” she says, before walking over and crouching down beside her daughter. She cups Charlotte’s face in her hands. “I couldn’t be more proud of you, Charlotte.”
“I haven’t done anything yet,” Charlotte says, eyebrows furrowing together in a bit of confusion. Minara chuckles.
“Maybe so, but I’m proud of you for trying. You know this won’t be easy, but that’s not stopping you. You’re being incredibly brave.” Charlotte looks at her for a moment, then smiles.
“Because of you, mom,” she says. Her mom’s eyes soften and get teary, and she pulls Charlotte into a hug.
“Oh, my baby,” she says softly. Charlotte hugs her back, squeezing tight. Two days from now, she doesn’t know when she’ll be able to hug her mom again. So, she soaks up every second of it, and she hopes that she’ll be able to do something that will be worthy of her mom’s pride.
Charlotte carefully signs the name on the paper. Charlotte Swiftheart . She can feel the Director’s eyes on her, and she hopes that she doesn’t look as nervous as she feels. When she’s finished, she sets the pen down and looks up at the tall, elegant woman.
“Thank you, Miss Swiftheart. Give me a moment to file these away, and then I’ll show you where you need to go,” the Director says, offering her a small smile before picking up the stack of papers and collecting them into a folder. Charlotte steps back and turns to look up at Olympia Goldenloin, who’s acting as something of her advocate. It’s not enough to connect her to the lie of Charlotte Swiftheart, though. Simply a courtesy since Charlotte Swiftheart’s parents are “dead.” Olympia sets a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder and smiles at her.
“Are you ready, Charlotte?” she asks. Charlotte smiles nervously back at her.
“I think so, Dame Goldenloin,” she says. Olympia gives her shoulder a squeeze.
“Keep your chin up, and if you ever need a friend, find my son. Ambrosius is a good boy and he’ll look out for you,” she says. Charlotte nods, turning when the Director comes around her desk.
“Come with me, Miss Swiftheart,” she says. She glances at Olympia and nods respectfully. “Sir Goldenloin.” Olympia nods back, and Charlotte looks back at her one more time. She steps back and bows respectfully in the way that Olympia, and then the Goldenloin’s butler, Magnus, had taught her.
“Thank you, Sir Goldenloin,” she says. She gets a smile back.
“It’s been my pleasure, Charlotte. Best of luck,” she says. Charlotte smiles back at her for a moment, then turns and picks up her bags—one for her belongings, and one for her school things—before she follows the Director. They make a quick stop at the shared barracks to drop off her belongings, and then Charlotte follows the Director through the long hallways of the Institute, eventually making it to one of the classrooms. As the Director opens the door, the teacher at the front of the room goes quiet, and all eyes turn on Charlotte.
“Sir Strongblade, this is the new student I said I would bring in today,” the Director says, hand appearing behind Charlotte’s back and lightly pushing her forward. Charlotte looks up at the older, beady-eyed woman at the front of the room, who has her eyes narrowed slightly.
“Swiftheart, correct?” she asks in a low, monotonous voice. Charlotte resists the urge to swallow, nodding instead.
“Yes, Sir,” she agrees. Sir Strongblade stares at her for a moment, before gesturing toward the open seat in the second row.
“Sit beside Miss Revereck,” she says. Charlotte nods, then turns to the Director and quickly bows.
“Thank you, Director,” she says. The Director nods at her, then Charlotte quickly makes her way to the seat Sir Strongblade gestured to. Once she sits, she gets out her supplies and looks back up at Sir Strongblade, who watches her for a moment more before turning back to the chalkboard.
“Now, as I was saying…”
As Charlotte turns to search the canteen for somewhere to sit, she spots him. Ballister Blackheart . Her eyes widen, and she barely stops herself from rushing across the room. Instead, she takes normal, medium speed strides toward him, her lunch tray clutched in her hands. When she reaches the table, he doesn’t look at her, and she tilts her head for a moment before clearing her throat. When he looks up at her, she recognizes the defensive, guarded look in his eyes. It’s a look that’s all too common on the streets, for kids and adults alike. She tries for a smile, then nods toward the bench across from him.
“May I sit?” she asks. The question seems to surprise him, as his eyes widen and the guarded look goes away. His mouth opens for a moment, but then he closes it again and nods, looking back at his food and quickly stuffing a bite in his mouth. She carefully sits down across from him, and she starts to eat too. She doesn’t scarf it down like she’s more accustomed to doing—she has to look like she’s used to getting three meals a day instead of one and a half if she’s lucky—but she still takes quick bites. Once she finishes chewing her fourth or fifth bite, she clears her throat again. “I know that you’re Ballister, but my name is Charlotte. It’s nice to meet you.” Ballister peaks up from under some of his long hair, big brown eyes staring at her for a moment.
“I-”
“Hey, Swifty!” Charlotte jumps and snaps her head around as a hand lands roughly on her shoulder. The big brunette boy, whom she recognizes from some of her classes as Todd, smirks down at her. “What are you doing sitting with the dirty commoner? Can’t you smell him?” She frowns at him.
“I don’t smell anything other than your bad breath, Todd. Besides, what does it matter if he’s a commoner? I can sit with whoever I want,” she says. Todd squawks, dropping his hand from her shoulder and glaring at her. After a moment, though, he just scoffs.
“Whatever, Swifty. Have fun with Bal-loser,” he says, smacking the side of her head and laughing as he and his friends walk off. Charlotte rubs her ear and glares after him, then turns back toward Ballister.
“I hate him already,” she says. Ballister is staring at her with a contemplative, almost suspicious look in his eyes.
“Why are you sitting with me?” he asks. She sits up a bit straighter and leans forward.
“Are you kidding? Why wouldn’t I? You’re amazing!” she says, grinning at him. He blinks at her for a moment, taken aback by her enthusiasm.
“You think so?” he asks. She nods.
“Of course! You’re super brave! I admire you a lot!” At that, a smile cracks his lips.
“You do?” She nods again, keeping her enthusiasm, and he gives her a somewhat sheepish grin.
“Thanks.” He brushes some of his hair behind his ear. “It was Charlotte, right?”
“Mhm!” She nods again, and Ballister holds out his hand across the table. She takes it, and they shake hands.
“Nice to meet you, Charlotte.”
It takes all of two days for Charlotte and Ballister to become glued at the hip. If they can be together, they are. Luckily, they seem to share a large majority of their classes, and their training slot at the end of the week matches up too. In the short period since they met, Charlotte’s gotten to know Ballister, and she enjoys him a lot. Even though he’s quiet around most of the other students, she finds that he has a great, witty sense of humor, and he’s very passionate about the things he likes. When Todd and the others aren’t pestering him, he’s fun to be around. Bright, lively. Everything she’s always wanted in a friend. They’re walking in the direction of their next class, with Charlotte chattering away about the teacher in her mathematics class and how strange he is. However, she’s cut off when Ballister suddenly trips, the stack of books and papers in his arms going scattering to the floor.
“Hey, watch where you’re going, street rat!” Todd sneers, before he and his friends start to laugh. Charlotte glares at him.
“That was so dumb! What are you, five?” she exclaims. Todd just blows a raspberry at her and he and his group start walking off. Charlotte turns back toward Ballister and hurries to help him gather his things. “Todd’s the worst.” She glances over her shoulder at Todd’s retreating back. She’s just in time to see Todd trip as someone sticks their foot out. Todd faceplants, and the boy who tripped him puts his hands over his mouth, a look of pure, fake innocence on his face.
“Good Gloreth, are you okay, Todd? You should really look where you’re going!” he says. Todd grumbles as he pushes himself up, shooting a glare at the boy before he stalks off, his friends close behind him. Charlotte can’t help but smirk as she turns back to helping Ballister with his things, and they eventually get everything back in a neat stack and stand up. “Hey, are you okay?” They both turn, and the same boy who tripped Todd is standing a few feet away. It’s not just any boy, though. It’s Ambrosius Goldenloin .
“I’m fine. You didn’t have to do that,” Ballister says. Ambrosius puts on another mask of confused innocence.
“Do what?” he asks. He and Ballister look at each other for a moment, then the facade breaks, and Ambrosius giggles. “It’s okay, it was fun. Todd’s a total jerk.”
“I know, right? I wish I’d gotten to trip him!” Charlotte says. Ambrosius looks over at her, eyes bright.
“Did you see the look on his face?” She nods, a big smile on her face. Before they can say more, the warning bell rings and Charlotte looks at Ballister.
“We better go,” he says. She nods, then glances at Ambrosius.
“You’re in our class, right? Do you want to walk with us?” she asks. Ambrosius seems to light up even more at that.
“Yeah!” They turn and start walking in the direction of their classroom, following the last straggler students and running through the only partially needed introductions between the three of them.
It takes two more days before Charlotte breaks her first rule. She and Ballister are sitting in the grass of one of the quieter courtyards working on homework for the next day’s classes. There aren’t really any other students around, and the knights have just passed them while doing their patrols. Charlotte rolls a blade of grass between her fingers, lips pursed for a moment.
“Ballister, can I tell you something?” she asks. Ballister looks up from his book and nods, and she scoots closer to him. “It’s a secret, so you can’t tell anybody, okay?” He tilts his head and smiles slightly at her.
“Who would I tell?” Which is a fair point, but she lifts her hand and holds out her pinky.
“I need to be sure. Do you promise not to tell?” she asks seriously. Ballister links his pinky with hers.
“I promise.” They give their pinkies a little shake, then drop their hands. Charlotte fidgets slightly, looking around again before she leans close to Ballister and cups her hands around her mouth.
“I’m not from a noble family,” she whispers. Ballister pulls his head back, looking at her with wide eyes.
“What?” he gasps. She waves a hand at him, and he leans back toward her so that she can whisper in his ear again.
“My mom convinced a noble family to help me get in. My name isn’t even Swiftheart.” When she leans back, he’s still wide-eyed and shocked.
“So you’re…like…” He slowly points at himself. Like me? She nods, and he stares for a moment before breaking into a smile. “Thank you.” She tilts her head, looking at him with a confused expression.
“For what?” she asks. Ballister reaches out to grasp her hand.
“For making sure I’m not alone,” he says. At that, she understands and smiles, turning her hand to give his a squeeze.
“We have to stick together,” she says softly, and he nods. She’s too young to worry about the Goldenloin’s rule that she’s just broken. All that matters is that she’s made Ballister happy. And that’s something worth breaking rules over.