Team spirit (2)

Artus wasn't unfit, he wasn't. He was good at certain physical things, like archery and dancing, the ones that required precision and, yes, allowed for rest inbetween. It was just an unfortunate state of affairs that many sports required other things, like being able to run a lot or react without thinking.

Artus held out for the first few points, and they even managed to eke a win in the first set. After that, things went downhill. Frederic leaped from one corner of the court to the other like a deer, but if deer got faster the longer they ran. Philippa was tireless too, and every time she hit the ball, he heard a resounding crack. Multiple times Artus considered just not running after the ball anymore, because either Philippa would get it or it would shoot off the court to freedom. That seemed to be Rita's strategy anyway—she stood in whatever corner Frederic was farthest from, and only moved to get balls that came directly at her. But Artus's pride wouldn't let him give up like that. Always run after balls, it told him, but never dive, because he probably wasn't going to get it anyway.

The outdoors sweltered. Artus was close to death. Had the sun always been this hot? A part of him had assumed that after four hours of not moving in a suit of armor, he'd be impervious to all of life's future ills, but he was still just flesh and man. How did Frederic jump so high? Did tennis even require jumping?

"Last game!" Frederic called cheerfully.

"Not if we win it," said Philippa, who was also one of those people who was happy when they sweat.

Rita cheered. "Let's do this!"

Artus stayed busy catching his breath. Sadly it didn't make a difference to the final outcome, though maybe it helped them get the single point they won during the game.

"We won!" Rita held up her hands to Frederic.

Frederic looked expectantly at the hands. "What's this?"

"You clap your hands to mine. It's a high five. People do it when they've won or do something good together."

"Oh, I like that! High Five!"

While Frederic and Rita enjoyed clapping hands together, Artus wheezed on the other side of the court.

Philippa cocked her head. "Need a drink, Cressofort?"

"I'm... Yes," Artus decided between gasps.

The other team came to the net as Artus gulped down water in as dignified a manner as he could manage.

"That was a good game," Frederic said cheerily. "You move very well, Philippa."

The corner of Philippa's mouth hooked up in a rare grin. "Not half as well as you, Your Highness. You and m'lady won each game faster than the last."

"I just know the sport well. I think you will be even better in the next match."

"Next?" Artus muttered incredulously.

"Wow Artus, you're so out of breath," Rita teased.

"That's because I actually ran for the ball."

"I ran for the balls I needed to run for! You need to let other people help you more."

"I say the same thing," Frederic agreed. "Tutu likes to do everything himself, even when it's something he's bad at like tennis."

Artus scowled as he wiped water from his lips. "Of course I go after the ball. You don't get better at something unless you do it. Besides, I can win against normal people. You...you're not normal."

"I do like sports a lot," Frederic acknowledged. "Hey, should we switch the teams up then? Tutu and me, Philippa and you."

Artus was going to say that was unnecessary since the point of this was for Frederic and Rita to interact, but the two women agreed and said it would be fun before he could get a word out.

The next match was more evenly split. Artus, fully aware of Frederic's inhuman reflexes, knew exactly which balls his new partner might miss. On the other hand, Rita had to participate more with Philippa as her partner, so she was also panting by the second game.

During one relay, Rita lunged for a corner ball. She managed to lob it over the net before crashing into the ground. Its arc was slow and right at Artus. Philippa watched Artus keenly as Rita scrambled off the ground, but Artus smashed the ball into the edge of the court, and when Philippa barely returned it, Artus hit it into the other corner.

"Woow," Rita said, as Frederic whooped. "You can do some nasty shots."

Artus couldn't help a smirk. He hated sweating, but he liked a victory. "I have some tricks up my sleeve."

Rita bent down to retie her skirts. "Watch out, I'm going to get serious, too!"

"If you tie it any higher, it won't be proper."

"But it's hot! Why do women's tennis outfits have layers of skirts anyway?"

"I... I don't know." Artus shrugged. "I suppose you should just do what's comfortable, since it's just us." He couldn't imagine wearing all of that himself, anyway.

Rita ended up removing a whole layer instead, and after that she did seem to go a little bit harder for the balls. The final victory was still Frederic's, but it took far too long to reach. When Frederic repeated Rita's "high five" on Artus, it nearly knocked him over.

"I think you need a break," said Frederic, all concern even though this was his fault in the first place.

"You mean we're not done?" Artus moaned.

"You haven't gotten to play with Lady Rita yet!"

"What? So you and Philippa will be on the same team? Do you also enjoy shooting fish in a barrel?"

"Sports aren't about the final score! Anyway, please? We don't get to have a lot of fun together these days."

That was true. With the engagement party being more imminent, Frederic had his own preparations to make: people to meet, protocol to learn. Artus acted as his assistant for most of the day, but he spent more of his free time with Rita. "All right. Just, I need to sit down for a minute."

Philippa came up to them while Frederic cheered. "While Cressofort's taking a break, would you be willing to show me your backhand? Mine doesn't work the way I expect it to."

"Of course! Goodness, I'm honored to be teaching Philippa Mazarin."

"I'm honored to learn from a prince."

The two of them returned to the court while Artus and Rita sat on the sides. Artus watched the busybodies morosely while Rita did a few stretches beside him.

"We can stop," Rita said. "I know we're all teasing you, but it's no good if you're actually not having fun."

"No, let's keep going. I'd feel worse if I told Prince Frederic no," Artus admitted.

"Wow, you really dote on him. I always thought it was because you take your job seriously, but now I know it’s your big brother energy."

Artus blinked at her. This was probably the first time his former royal status had been referred to in a way that didn't grate on him. "He doesn't ask for much. And, well, I don't completely dislike the game. But unlike Frederic, I don't enjoy doing things I can't win at. It's hard to see the point of even trying."

"They're so athletic," Rita laughed. "Then, how about we just change what a win is, then? Instead of the match, let's just try to win a point!"

Change what a win was? "There's only one definition of winning a sport."

"You're not trying to win at the sport," Rita pointed out. "You're winning at a challenge. Doing something impressive has its own merit, doesn't it? If a child could take on a pro, even if the child didn't win the game, you would still say, Wow, what a kid!"

Artus found it hard to argue with that, even the part where he was the child in this analogy. "But we'll definitely win a few points through fluke alone anyway. ...How about let's win a game?"

"A whole game?" Rita made a show of mulling it over. "That'll be tough. But if it's not challenging, there's no merit in it."

Artus felt a grin tug at his lips. "Exactly."

"All right, it's settled. Let's win!"