To the Victor

by Samantha M. Derr

  Lam climbed into the suit, which closed with a hiss, sealing him inside.

  "Try to be careful," Percy said through the crystal. "I don't want to have to be the one to explain to everyone if something... goes wrong."

  Lam paused and swallowed. There was more there than just wishing him good luck. There was a reminder of what he was doing and who he was running from. And a bit of an accusation, that if he did end up dead, his suit's chest crushed beyond salvage, it wouldn't fix anything, just take him out of it. And if a part of him would prefer that to having to deal with the shit anymore, the scorn and the loneliness and the hate? Well, then he was a selfish asshole. Nothing new there.

  "Just find someplace nice to put my prize," he said, and strode out onto the field.

  The field was mostly just a wide open plain. The different camps were assembling, the largest being the Hessian queen's knights. The tourney was closer to Hessia proper than to Camelot, though it existed on the contested border that was technically a part of Camelot. Guinevere's retinue was a bit smaller, but better equipped. For all that Hessia had made advances in tech, most of their machines were salvage from conflicts with Camelot or the Runic Empire. Camelot, with its natural wealth of coal and crystals, could field a much more impressive array of suits. Lesser nobles from both sides of the border, as well as a token Runic party, filled out the rest of the field.

  Lam searched his own party for sign of Safere, but didn't catch sight of those distinct green eyes. A trickle of fear leaked through his excitement for the fight. What if Merlin, after having failed with Lamorak, had gone after Safere instead? What if ey had an accident? What if Agravaine had found a way to retaliate somehow? He forced himself to breathe. More likely ey was holding back until the melee began. Many did, hoping to enter dramatically to change the tide of the fight.

  Then the bell rang to start the melee, and Lam pushed all other thoughts from his head. It was time to do what he did best.

  *~*~*

  The battle sang around him, and Lam played harmony as best as he was able. Beside him, one of his party crashed to the ground, laid out by the lance of Sir Dina. Lam laughed, trapped her lance against the ground with his suit's foot, and flung himself forward. Using his shield more than his sword, he caught Dina in the neck of the suit, felt the satisfying crunch of something vital breaking and watched as she and her suit tumbled to the ground.

  There was no rest. His party had already swept through one of the smaller Hessian lords only to be confronted by the royal retinue, the elite group of knights that made up the Queen's offensive arm in the tourney. Most parties were broken into two groups, offense and defense, the offense seeking glory by raiding other camps and trying to take their crests and flags and the defense trying to prevent just that. It didn't mean that the offenses wouldn't meet in the contested field between camps, though.

  One of Lam's allies was thrown off balance by a rush from one of the Camelot knights and pushed into Lam's side. Grunting, Lam couldn't help but taking a sword stroke on his shield. He cursed at the jarring impact and danced backwards. Right into the path of a familiar suit.

  "Suit all fixed up?" Uwain asked, his own suit an imposing mix of Camelot red and gold. It was slightly unusual to converse with adversaries on the field, but the suits were all designed to be able to link communications when desired, and Lam always kept his open in case someone wanted to participate in verbal sparring to match their physical confrontation.

  "You tell me," Lam said, and ran forward, not bothering to raise his sword.

  Uwain took the bait, dropping his defense and raising his sword to attack. Perhaps when they'd fought a few more times Lam would have to try harder, but for now, it seemed that no one knew his tricks. As Uwain aimed a slash at his chest, Lam crouched and dove forward, under the attack and directly behind Uwain on his shield side. Bracing himself with his arms, Lam lashed out with his leg, catching Uwain in the back of the knee. Still unbalanced from the attack, Uwain toppled, and Lam bounded up, kicking Uwain's sword out of his hand before he could do more than sprawl on the ground.

  "Yield?" Lam asked as he held his sword to Uwain's prone suit.

  "Not usually how you like me," Uwain said, but made no move to rise.

  "I'll make an exception this once," Lam said. "And I'd hate to take you out of the melee tomorrow by roughing you up too bad."

  "Then I yield," Uwain said. "And next time I'll know not to go so easy on you."

  "It won't help you, but I look forward to it." Lam turned, barely got his shield up in time to deflect a lance blow from a different knight he was quite familiar with.

  "Time to pay for what you did to my brother, freak," Agravaine said, pressing his attack, and Lam barely avoided tripping over Uwain's suit as he backed away. Two more suits clad in red and gold joined Agravaine's attack, these two with swords. Lam gave ground, grimacing with each impact on his shield. Ruwena was not going to be pleased if the damned thing fell off, but there was no other way to handle the joint attack.

  "Sure I can't talk you into fighting fair?" Lam asked. He was met with only laughter. He cursed. With three on one, there was no way to prevent one of them from circling around him, though for the moment they weren't breaking rank. It was all he could do to retreat, though, and defend. As soon as he would brush off one sword strike, he would have to parry another, and then raise his shield to turn Agravaine's lance. After the alleyway, apparently Agravaine was taking no chances. Lam had no doubt that if he faltered, if he fell, Agravaine would just happen to do more than incapacitate him. Deaths on the field weren't uncommon, after all.

  The field seemed to clear around them, none of his own allies rushing to help him and none of the other Camelot knights apparently willing to further unbalance the fight. He wasn't surprised. Knights perilous were disposable for the most part, and garnered no great loyalty from those lords to whom they pledged. Still, it would have been nice if—a glint of green caught his eye over the shoulder of one the sword-wielding suits he fought.

  It happened fast. One moment there were three knights pressing him, and the next moment there were only two, the third suddenly crashing to the earth with a huge gash down its back. At the same time, Lam used the distraction to push forward, puncturing the remaining sword-wielder in the thigh with his sword. Steam bloomed from the wound, and Lam, muscles straining, pushed the sword further, nearly severing the leg entirely and taking the suit out of the fight.

  Lam smiled as he watched Agravaine go still, taking stock of the situation. Instead of easily overmatching his opponent, he found Lamorak on one side of him and Safere on the other, suit gleaming in the daylight without even a scratch to it.

  "Only a coward attacks a man's back," Agravaine said. Lam resisted pointing out that Agravaine himself had only failed to do so because Lam had turned too quickly after defeating Uwain.

  "And a brave man fights three against one?" Safere asked.

  "Camelot, to m—" Agravaine started to say, but Lam and Safere acted as one, Lam swinging low, sword catching Agravaine in the legs while Safere struck his opposite shoulder. The suit flipped from the combined attack, feet over head, and impacted the ground with the sound of bolts ripping.

  The field was silent for a moment as Lam and Safere stood over Agravaine's fallen form. And then noise came rushing back as the Queen's retinue rushed to avenge their fallen comrade. They did not fare well.

  *~*~*

  "You mean to tell me that you actually recalibrated a ghost box without a full cognitive map?" Safere asked, sipping eir ale as Ruwena showed em the particulars of Lam's suit.

  "Well, partially recalibrated," Ruwena said, though Lam could hear the preening in her voice. "And I did have a full cognitive map. Just not from Sir Lucky over there."

  "Hey," Lam said. "I did hold my own against three knights at the same time. And took out two Knights of the Round Table all by myself. That's hardly luck."

  Ruwena rolled her eyes and Safere seemed to be extremely talented at ign
oring them both, eir eyes glued to the complex network of pipes and crystals of the suit as if it wasn't just a tangled mess. Lam would never understand the mechanics of it—just point him in the direction of a fight and stand back.

  "But if you didn't have a map of the pilot, what did you use? Improper mental calibration can cause significant strain in both the pilot and the suit."

  "I used one of my own cognitive maps," Ruwena said, and Lam nearly choked on his ale.

  "What?" Lam asked as Percy laughed and Safere stared wide-eyed.

  "But how could it have worked with such—"

  "Let's just say that he reminds me a bit of... someone when she was younger," Ruwena said. "And that I know enough about our differences and about suits to know how to go from there to get a fairly accurate calibration. It's not like he's that difficult to predict."

  "Are you implying I'm simple?" Lam asked, thumping his tankard against the table and spilling just a bit. Seriously, didn't she have somewhere better to be? When Safere had mentioned coming over after the melee, he had hoped learning about his suit had been innuendo for... well, for something much more entertaining than this.

  "Fascinating," Safere said.

  "But it seems like we have our work cut out for us getting things ready for tomorrow," Ruwena said. "And as much as I'm sure you could make some serious improvements to the suit, I'm a bit territorial about that sort of thing. So..."

  Lam perked up, hearing the polite dismissal. Percy gave him a slightly worried glance but didn't say anything.

  "So if you'd like, I have a bottle of particularly good port I've been saving," Lam said, motioning toward his more private corner of the tent, separated by a wall of salvage they kept so Ruwena's late-night repairs were somewhat muffled from the sleeping quarters and Lam's late-night activities were somewhat muffled from where Ruwena and Percy worked on repairs. "Seeing as how you did save me today, I can think of no one else I'd rather share it with."

  Safere gave one last look at the suit and then nodded. "You did promise me some answers about the Questing Beast," ey said.

  Lam tried not to wince as he led the way back to his section of the tent, partitioned off by thick fabric. Inside wasn't exactly the most glamorous of places, familiar in the mess that seemed to follow him around. He quickly downed the last of his ale and set the cup on the ground near the entrance, where it joined a small pile of things he needed to return to their proper place. He didn't have a bed like most of the Queen's retinue boasted, just a heavy blanket that he normally was better about rolling up but was currently crumpled over a stack of tomes on suit design and maintenance Percy kept "leaving" around for him.

  Pushing his way forward through the light armor he had hastily discarded after the melee, Lam retrieved the bottle of port from under a shirt in need of mending.

  "I'm not sure what you're used to," Lam said, looking around for a knife to cut the wax, "but this is supposed to be Runic, which I'm told is a good thing."

  "It really depends on where in the Empire it comes from," Safere said, "but I'm sure it's palatable. You bought it?"

  "Won it," Lam said, turning back to Safere and stopping cold, nearly dropping the bottle. Ey was crouching down over a small, wooden chest, lid held open with one hand. Of course the most obvious thing in the room would be his stash of sex gear.

  "That's noth—" Lam darted forward to close the lid, only to catch his foot on a tipped-over stool hidden under one of the banners he had won during the melee. With a cry, he fell, nearly losing the port again as he made a poor attempt to roll with the fall. The impact sent pain shooting up his shoulder, but at least he landed opposite the port, the bottle bruising his side but not breaking during the fall.

  "You okay?" Safere asked, and Lam could hear the barely contained laugh. Rolling onto his back, Lam wondered exactly how red his face was from embarrassment.

  "I think I landed on my pride," Lam said. "It's definitely bruised. And here I was hoping to seduce you."

  Safere didn't bother containing the laugh this time. Ey stepped back, eir hands going to the buttons of eir shirt. Ey started at the top, slowly working down. Lam's mouth went dry, the port thudding against the ground as he finally dropped it.

  "Um, what are you doing?" Lam asked. "Not that I'm complaining or anything, but..." The view from the ground was just getting better as Safere finished with the buttons and pulled the garment free. Beneath was a toned stomach and a chest tightly bound with wrapped fabric.

  "I thought it would be obvious," Safere said. "It's not like inviting me back to your... bed for a drink is exactly subtle. And your supplies all seem in order. I mean, if you'd prefer, we can just talk and you can tell me about the Questing Beast, but I figured there would be time for that later. For now, battles tend to make me amorous afterward, and I was hoping you'd let me fuck you."

  Lam's mouth dropped open. "Well," he said, cursing his sluggish mind, "that can certainly be arranged."

  "I trust your squires are discrete?" ey asked.

  Lam rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself up onto hands and knees. Safere removed a small bundle from a pouch at eir side.

  "I'm pretty sure both of them would much prefer to work on the suit than pay any mind to what we'll be up to," Lam said, shaking his head. "Neither of us are Ruwena's type, I'd guess, and I'm not sure Percy even has a type." Lam hadn't meant that last to come out as bitter as it did.

  Safere paused, lips drawing to a line. Ey tilted eir head and regarded Lam a long moment before giving a small sigh. "You Camelot knights do have some strange ideas about sex. His desires, which to you might seem a lack, are no less brave than your own. In my experience, the pressures on those who don't want sexual relationships are no less than on those whose desires are less… traditional."

  A frown threatened to draw down the corners of Lam's mouth. He had never really thought of it like that before, had always been too caught by the fear that Percy's preferences were some sort of critique on his own. But... but it wasn't like Percy would have been welcomed for his choice by their father—nothing was enough unless there were heirs in the mix, and making sure not to disgrace the name of Pellinore.

  But then Safere unwrapped the bundle in eir hand and Lam's thoughts returned fully to the present. It was dark and Lam couldn't tell exactly what it was made of, but it was cylindrical and about eight inches long, maybe an inch and a half or two inches wide, with one end perfectly flat and the other bulging slightly into a rounded head. It was definitely recognizable.

  "Is that..." Lam crept forward, still on his hands and knees. Safere held it toward him, and Lam knelt to take it. He had been expecting something hard, metal. But as he took it in his hands, he could feel it was firm but not hard, wasn't cold like metal but was just as smooth, except for the flat end, which had a sort of circular port which Lam assumed would fit onto something. He raised it to his face, sniffed it. Something about it reminded him of suits, of the smell of coal burning, of heat.

  "There's a person in the Starlit lands that makes these to order," Safere said. "The material is new and... has distinct advantages over wood or metal. Especially since I made some modifications."

  "What kind of..." Lam trailed off as he looked up and watched Safere slide eir pants down eir legs, revealing strong thighs and legs and a strange piece of clothing that looked almost like some of the undergarments that were popular in the Runic Empire. A strip of fabric ran around Safere's waist and two more wrapped around each thigh, securing a triangle of material over eir sex. It did nothing to conceal eir ass, and the material itself resembled, if anything, the mask ey had been wearing when they first met.

  Safere gently retrieved the shaft from Lam's hands and in a deft move, connected the flat base to a small protrusion in the center of the material. There was a small whine and Lam flinched as a green light glowed faint from where shaft met material, a green light that slowly spread up its length like veins on a cock. Lam swallowed.

  "I saw in your trunk there are t
ies," Safere said. "Do you prefer to be tied or to do the tying?"

  "T-tied," Lam said.

  "Ah, good. With the melee in the morning, I don't think pushing things too far is a good idea, but I would like to tie you. Fuck you. Is there anything that you don't want me doing, or anywhere you don't want to be touched?"

  Lam shook his head, words refusing to form in his throat. He wasn't used to people... asking. Most of the time it was just something he hoped his partner would figure out. And yet it felt good to be asked, more comfortable. Safer. There had been times when he had feared a bit during sex, when a partner had been too rough, or didn't know what was too far. Lam could feel his heart pounding, his whole body alive with anticipation, his cock hard and straining against his pants.

  "I don't want to be touched on the chest," Safere said. "But otherwise anywhere is fine. Well, for as long as your hands are free. I get full sensation through my cock, so please treat it like it's flesh and blood." Lam's eyes widened at that, and Safere shrugged. "As I told you with the mask, all it requires are a few new connections, otherwise, it's a lot like the suits. It requires a very delicate calibration with my brain, but the results are... intense."

  Lam couldn't help biting his lower lip and groaning slightly, his breath catching in his throat. His hands were shaking, and he tried to calm himself as Safere stared at him, amused expression on eir face.

  "You are a bit over-dressed for this, though," ey said, and Lam looked down, realized that he was still wearing all his clothes. He immediately started fumbling at buttons, tearing what didn't immediately release. He was only dimly aware of Safere moving back toward his chest of... accessories as he peeled his shirt off and flopped onto his back to work at the draws of pants. He managed to get them loose and half-pulled-down when Safere caught his hands and pulled them up, away from his body.