Present Day

New York Renaissance Faire

The crowd cheered as black-clad Kevin felled Marcoh with a slash of his sword. Kevin smiled, lips curving under the layer of crimson face-paint characteristic of the barbarians. Kate Stevens bounced on her toes as she watched her fellow performers from the sidelines, taking the energy she needed for the show from the crowd’s positive reaction. Across the checkerboard pattern painted on the grass, ‘travelers’—visitors to the Renaissance Fair from the mundane world—and sticky-fingered children cheered over the sounds of the mild melee that the live chess game had become.

Kate’s cue came—a knight on Kate’s side, that of the Queen’s guards, pushed his sword against the stomach of a barbarian, who doubled over. Kate’s character, the only female warrior in the team of good guys, was losing patience with standing and watching like she had been ordered to. Kate fidgeted and stamped her feet, rattled her sword in its sheath, then, finally ran away from the line of waiting warriors, took a few powerful steps, and leapt—she planted a foot on the back of the doubled-over barbarian and launched herself over him, coming down to stab Kevin through the armpit. The crowd laughed and cheered. Kevin crumbled to the ground, winking at Kate as he went.

When the show was over, when the Princess’ heralds had let out their last metallic note and the stands were deserted, occupied only by abandoned bowls of ice cream melting in the sun until the groundskeeper and then the audience for the next show arrived, Kate walked along a wooded path. She tugged her leather helmet off and shook out her black hair. No traveler from the mundane world would espy her on this path; its entrance near the chess board was marked in archaic script as ‘staff only’, and it skirted the main faireground for a brief span near the restrooms before leading to the tents of the staff members who lived at the faire for weekends or whole summers at a time.

It was always after the show that the stage fright struck her. Fighting, feeling alive, in front of crowds was alright. Talking to said crowds afterwards, answering questions, signing autographs for children, and breaking the fourth wall so thoroughly, were a bit much to her and her inherently introverted soul. That trait stemmed, she supposed, from the same specialized interests which made the Faire paradise to her.

Where the path cleared through the forest met the paved one, a few costumed men were attracting attention. One was Kevin, Kate’s friend and fellow chess knight, who, it seemed, had attempted to take the main paths to his tent but had been accosted by fans along the way. He was chatting with travelers, telling a joke Kate couldn’t hear that bent the small crowd over with laughter. The other man in the center of attention grinned sheepishly, as if the joke referenced him. He was unclothed to the waist, with his skin thoroughly dyed dark indigo-blue. He’s cosplaying as a dark elf, Kate gathered. Impressive costume. It almost matched Kevin’s, with painted skin and casual confidence. To her own surprise Kate found herself wondering what Kevin would look like were his costume more like the elf’s; crimson and pitch instead of pale tan on his back, outlining the flat muscles. Tracing lines of ferocity, writing rage down his skin.

As Kate attempted to toss away these distracting thoughts, the elf cosplayer continued on his way down the path. Kevin took a few more moments with the people he was speaking to; he looked at her once as if to invite her to join, but she shrunk back, and sat down on a bench in the shade of a broad-leafed tree.

When he finished talking and moved forward she watched him, remembering his movements in the show. They were acquaintances, nearing friendship, combat-companions—but at this moment Kate felt nervous in his presence. Sweat cooled since the show beetled on the back of her neck.

“How’s it going?” Kevin asked. He sat down on the bench beside her.

“Okay.”

“Yeah?”

“I was nervous today,” she revealed. It wasn’t true. She hadn’t been, during the show; she was now, with a thrilling sort of terror like the top of a roller coaster.

“You did well today. You always do. The crowd loves you.”

“No…” Kate looked down. There was gravely, packed stone beneath her hands. “I do okay. But you’re…better.” Beautiful. Not just fun to watch. Impossible to not watch.

“Don’t feel like that.” He touched her arm. Had he ever done that before? Her senses heightened in the vicinity of her shoulder. “You…you’re pretty.” He was joking, smiling at his own inability to form phrases, touching her shoulder. She turned toward him, disbelieving. He leaned closer.

She heard people coming along the path, crunching on the gravel. Kate straightened up, frightened like a deer by the sound. A mother and two children, travelers, paused to look at the two performers. Kate shivered as she met their eyes, and they moved on, as if frightened by her stare.

“What’s wrong?” Kevin asked.

“They almost saw us.” She breathed.

“What?”

“A knight and a barbarian. It wouldn’t be right. Children wouldn’t want to see that.”

“What?” He stood up, looked down at her, his face set, stern and confused. Masked. And she… “Who do you love?” Kevin asked. “Me, or the character I play?”

A/N: It's been a while since I wrote original fiction, and this isn't my genre, which are my excuses if this story was rather sub-par in comparison to my typical works. Concrit is good, but I'm sure you're too ingellient to think that flames are a good use of your time.