Content notes: transphobia (implied and referenced), reference to transphobic violence, misogyny
John spent a lot of time watching Helen over the next few days. It probably could have drawn notice except… well, John had always spent a lot of time watching Helen. Helen was probably the only one who didn’t know he had a pash for her.
The truth was that John watched most of the Anglish warrior women. And not for the reason most people thought. Damian had probably figured him out, and the lady-witch was disturbingly observant when she wanted to be. Everyone else? Well, they expected Sir John of Kaldon to be suspicious and angry with the women who thought they were good enough to fight alongside men.
In truth, they hadn’t been wrong at first. John had heard of the Anglish perversion of allowing women to fight long before they had come to Oak Haven. He’d thought it the most absurd thing he’d ever heard. But… well… John was stubborn, and set in his ways.
One of his ways was loyalty.
Whatever he thought of the matter, the warrior women, now picking up Nornish fighting styles and ‘ladies-at-arms’ were his comrades and shield mates. Whatever he thought of them personally, Sir John would proudly fight and die beside them.
So no, Sir John wasn’t ‘glaring’ at the women or trying to frighten them off. The truth was rather the opposite.
John had never found a woman who interested him. He was, in fact, rather partial to blanket sharing. Until he came to Oak Haven and met the women warriors. Women as tough as the men they fought beside, who dressed in armor as often as dresses and could execute a parry beautiful enough to make the Ancestor’s weep… Well, truth to tell he’d found himself briefly enamored of all of them.
It hadn’t been long before his interest focused exclusively on Helen, and for the (to him) oddest of reasons. She was the most feminine. Where some of the other women had no interest in frippery, and others seemed to go out of their way to ‘out man’ the men, Helen had always been comfortable with ribbons wound through her hair or slipping into a dress on feast days.
Almost as if John could be perfectly well interested in a woman who was covered in all the flash and frippery he’d always disdained… as long as that woman was also a warrior.
But now John had another reason to watch. He wanted to understand how Helen kept her secret and why it was a secret.
John was… uncomfortable with secrets. Secrets and loyalty tend to not go well together. Like now, when John was being asked to keep a secret from Reimund, who should have John’s ultimate loyalty. Yet Helen also had John’s loyalty, and it wasn’t like this secret was dangerous to Reimund… John didn’t think.
If Lady-Witch Mildthryth didn’t know the truth, John probably would have worked himself into a fit and done something foolish. Since Reimund had sworn liege oath to the lady-witch, it was rightly her decision to tell Reimund or not, and John might be interfering with her wishes — which he didn’t care about personally, but loyalty to Reimund required loyalty to the lady-witch. (Alright, she wasn’t actually a witch. To John she would always be the lady-witch who had trapped Reimund.)
None of which explained why Helen was keeping her nature a secret in the first place. Especially if it was a known and accepted thing among the Anglish. Sure, it was strange to John, a woman with a man’s body. But so was a woman as liege. Which, granted, he hadn’t handled well…
But John was John. No one expected Reimund to let his temper get away with him. Not that Mildthryth would let him.
Of course, no one knew the lady-witch was Reimund’s liege. That had to be a secret too, or the King would come back. If Helen knew Mildthryth was ultimately still in control of the burg, she wouldn’t need to worry. But John couldn’t tell her.
Two secrets was two secrets too many.
It took several days to understand how Helen kept her secret, but once he saw it it was obvious.
She wasn’t doing it alone. All the Anglish were working together to help protect her. Like the men who had tried to keep John from going to the bathing room that night, the Anglish warriors distracted the Norns, surrounded Helen at every opportunity, and covered for her.
It made sense, because now that John was paying attention he could see the differences. Helen stood half a head taller than the other women, and while careful dressing gave her the appearance of small breasts, they wouldn’t pass close inspection.
Not that any of the Norns had any business giving Helen’s breasts a close inspection. But she hadn’t turned down John’s suit. Just seemed… wary. Which… well… aside from his thoughtlessness in choosing a place for a private discussion he wasn’t sure why she was so uncertain of him. Probably something to do with why she was keeping her body a secret. Which he was no closer to understanding.
The Anglish were strange.
Helen noticed Sir John watching her. She tried to hide, even more than usual. But when she mentioned it to Beth, Beth just giggled.
“He’s been watching you for months,” Beth said. “I think he’s deathly shy and just doesn’t know how to approach you. Probably for the best as long as you’re, you know, staying hidden.”
“You think he’s really interested in me?” Helen asked, shocked, not daring to hope.
“Sure. Man’s got eyes for nothing else. Honestly, I think his interest in you is why he laid off the rest of us, which, thank you.” Beth patted Helen’s arm with a sword-callused hand. “You can’t keep hiding forever, hun. Maybe you’ll get lucky, huh?”
Helen remembered Sir John’s words from that night in the store room and licked her lips. Maybe, she dared to hope, she would.
“Until then,” Beth said with a grin of her own, “We’ll keep you safe — and maybe help you show off a bit, hm?”
“Yeah,” Helen said with a sigh, “Yeah, that’d be… nice.”
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