Chapter Text
The dull, repetitive sounds of furiously fighting fists connecting with warm bodies filled the great hall. Finely-dressed men cheered and hollered words of encouragement to their favourite fighters while said fighters unleashed a plethora of profanities during their battles. All expletives were directed at one person, though. The one combattant who had single-handedly caused the pain and humiliation of all who challenged them.
You.
You were the club's best fighter. In fact, not only were you the best in Westminster, you were widely considered to be the best in all of London. Challengers from near and far would travel to take you on, and every time you would send them back to where they came from either with their tails between their legs or cursing your name and damning you to the pits of Hell.
After every round, you never could bring yourself to be proud of your accomplishments. Yes, you were a young woman "with the strength of twenty men" (as Robert Topping liked to say), but you still felt as though that kind of brutish power belonged in someone else's body. It was unladylike but all the same, you had found for it an appropriate application: the money you would earn from winning all those fights went towards feeding yourself and an entire gathering of street children who had nothing else in the world but you.
You couldn't save the world--not even the city or the entire borough you called 'home'--but you could at least give what you could to these poor souls. God knew that you knew what it was like out there.
Your existence was a peculiar one. Every day without fail, you found yourself at the fight club in the company of all those betting men in their extravagant finery and the sweaty, boorish beasts throwing their weight around in the ring. You would just go there to watch, really, but every so often you'd have a challenger--for your title as undisputed champion--and Topping would call you over. You would go there every day so as not to miss a single opportunity to win money for yourself and your dependants.
One day you were sat there just minding your own business--you couldn't see the ring from where you were anyway, through the throngs of vociferating men brightly clad in velvet--when another literal beacon of a man came rushing over, flinging himself upon your table in his great excitement.
"Miss (F/N)! Miss (F/N)!" babbled Topping, coming so close to you he could almost press his forehead against yours. He hurt your eyes to look at--the gaudy blue and yellow clothing he was so fond of nigh blinded all who beheld him directly, so bright were the garments he sported. The palms of Topping's hands were flat on the table as he leaned towards you.
"What is it?" you muttered. You weren't really in the mood for his...alacrity. You were quite tired, and he was much too lively for your preference.
Topping beamed at you from under the rim of his blue top hat. To you, he looked like the Mad Hatter of Wonderland, grinning like a loon and a betting slip poking out from the sash around his hat, as opposed to a playing card. "You've another challenger, my dear!" he informed you. When he saw you about to roll your eyes, he interrupted anything you may have considered saying. "I promise you it's a good one this time!"
"Fine..." you sighed, preparing to stand. Anything to get away from Topping's luminosity. "When do you want me out there?"
"This evening, preferably," he said brightly, but you could hear the sarcasm quite clearly.
"Obviously," you tutted, and started making your way through the crowd towards the ring with Topping in pursuit. "Are we up now, in ten minutes or hours from now?" you said to him, raising your voice above the cacophonous cheering.
"Now, if you please," replied Topping, with a helpful answer at last. "He's the young chap stood with his sister over yonder,"
You turned to look in the direction he had indicated, and saw the man he spoke of. He was dressed even more lavishly than most of the men at the club but he was ruggedly handsome, something that didn't really match the way he clothed himself. There was something about that fact that made you wonder what sort of man he actually was.
As you studied him, he seemed to sense eyes on him and he too turned to face you. Your eyes met and he smirked as he removed his top hat. Initially you thought he was readying himself for the fight that would soon be underway, but it transpired that he was tipping it to you.
Again, a gentlemanly gesture that just didn't seem to match his appearance. You dipped your head slightly in acknowledgement of him.
Suddenly Topping's voice cut through the pandemonium and severed the connection you had with your eventual opponent. You dragged yourself away to listen to what the boldly clothed man next to you was on about.
"--Frye," he was saying, just as you actually started to pay attention.
You blinked at him a couple of times before saying: "I beg your pardon, what was that?"
"I said Jacob and Evie Frye," answered Topping, leading you through the horde. "I do not believe that, given the way he looked at you just then, that he knows who you really are,"
"Does he not?" you replied flatly, but only because you were growing wearier by the minute. "Oh,"
"You don't sound too surprised,"
"Should I?"
"Well no, but I would consider you a celebrity of sorts. How could he not know who you are?" said Topping with surprise.
You sighed inaudibly before responding. "I don't expect people to be aware of my existence,"
Topping didn't say anything then because you had arrived alongside the Frye siblings. Upon closer inspection you realised that they were in fact twins, despite their obvious differences. They turned their attentions from the ring to focus on you and Topping.
"Ah! So that's where you wandered off to!" exclaimed Jacob. "And hello to you, Miss...?" He positioned his body so that he faced you more than anyone else and asked your name.
"(F/N)," you said, taking his outstretched hand to shake. To your surprise, instead of giving a good handshake he brought your hand to his lips and gently kissed it. "O-Oh..." you stammered, having not expected to be treated like a lady. Then you remembered that you were a lady, and this man knew nothing to the contrary.
"Since when did you become a gentleman?" growled Jacob's sister from beside him, as he released your hand. Jacob didn't say anything, but Evie stepped forwards and offered her hand for you to shake. "Evie Frye. Nice to meet you, Miss,"
You took her hand and shook it properly, a gesture you were far more used to. "And you. Pleasure to meet you both," you replied. You carefully and discreetly eyed them both as they were suddenly drawn into a short conversation with Topping. They both wore obviously expensive clothing of high quality, and both were clearly strong and influential individuals, but again there was the mismatch of Jacob's 'gentlemanly' behaviour and dress and his otherwise rougher, more rugged appearance. His sister had called him out on his actions too...
"So when do I get to meet this champion?" said Jacob with great enthusiasm. His eyes were positively ablaze with excitement.
"You've already met," said Topping, nodding vaguely towards you.
Jacob's eyes widened but only out of sheer disbelief. "Really? You?" he said with a short laugh. "But you're..."
"A woman?" you countered.
"Well...yes, but that wasn't what I was going to say. I've seen plenty of women fight,"
"What were you going to say, then?"
"I probably started the sentence wrong, but I expected to see some great hulking brute come out here, that's all,"
You smirked a little bit. You knew that plenty of people thought that about you, but it was refreshing to hear it straight. "Still want to try it, though? Not afraid to hit a girl?"
"Do I ever," said Jacob with a grin. "I've been in fights with women before...They can fight just as well as men can," With that he went off somewhere all of a sudden, leaving you behind with his sister and Topping.
"Suppose you better get ready," said the latter. The former stepped up to you and gave you an almost serene smile.
"Jacob's got it in his head that he's going to win," she said with a chuckle. "I've got money on you that you'll take him down a peg or two,"
"I'll do my best," you replied with an equally tranquil smile.
It was almost time.