Title: In The Company Of Wolves
Pairing: Darcy Lewis/Brock Rumlow
Summary: It seemed inevitable that Darcy would be married off at the end of this summer, after she visited her grandmother but she didn't realize the new blacksmith down the path was a worthwhile sight.
Disclaimer: Title and inspiration from Angela Carter's short story, Company of Wolves. No copyright infringement intended.
A/N: This is something I've been thinking about doing for a while but hadn't had steam until now. I'm going to attempt to continue writing this for NaNoWriMo but I've had this first part written up for a couple months.
A/N2: It's a little rougher than I'd like but I really do want to post something so I don't feel like a dead writer. Hope you guys enjoy my ridiculous historical(ish), supernatural romance!
A strange sensation gripped Darcy's chest as she moved with the sway of the horse. Each step forward was a contradiction of sorts. Joy filled Darcy at the thought of being reunited with her grandmother and an entire summer to roam the countryside, devoid of any and all annoying chaperones. True freedom awaited ahead and yet there was still a stone of dread burning in her gut. It ate at her nerves as the sun slowly moved above her, for each minute that passed was just one looming moment closer to her inevitable marriage. Just that much closer till she was the wife if Ian Boothby.
That very thought caused disgust to drip down her spine. Although it was a warm day, she shivered and closed her eyes tight, as if she could somehow will herself awake from this nightmare. Dread tightened around her throat every time she thought about being married to Ian Boothby, until she didn't think she could breathe. While Ian had been charming during all their interactions, Darcy could tell it was all perfectly honed manners. There was nothing in the littlest of his touches or the timbre of his voice that elicited any real reaction from her. She remembered listening to her half sisters discussing their own romances during late nights by dimming fireplaces. All they could talk of were shivers down spines, twisting insides and spinning rooms. Wasn't that what love was? Or lust at the very least? Darcy hadn't the pleasure of experiencing either and she was almost 25.
But of course, her father said yes to Ian's father's proposal without consulting her. She wasn't sure if she should be insulted that Ian had gotten his father to do the asking instead of doing it himself. Shouldn't a man in love not let anything stand in his way and push aside all niceties?
Then again, there was no room for love in the marriages of well bred youth.
It had been too good of an offer for her father to refuse. As the youngest and strangest of three daughters, it did not look like Darcy would ever have an offer of marriage. Her birthday was in a month and she was practically an old maid if everyone else was to be believed. Darcy had always known she would not be nearly as lucky as her elder half sisters, Peggy and Jane. Both had married for love at acceptable ages and were happy beyond content. Both were also the most beautiful and brilliant women Darcy had ever known. They radiated like sunlight and no one could take their eyes off the women whenever they entered a room. Darcy simply glistened like a young, sweaty boy.
"Come now, you look so gloomy. I had thought you would be happy to see your grandmother and those fairies you're so convinced that live in these forests," Sir James 'Bucky' Barnes teased, slowing his horse so that he was right next to Darcy. His comment made her smile despite herself.
"You know very well what has my heart so heavy," chided Darcy and there was a hint of pity in Bucky's eyes. She knew he meant no ill and still the action prickled at Darcy's pride. "Also, fairies do live in these forests. I saw them when I was little."
"Do you intend to asks these creatures to save you from an arranged marriage?" asked Bucky lightly, raising an eyebrow. Darcy was preparing a rather biting answer when Steve interjected.
"This Boothby fellow seems a good match for you," Sir Steven Rogers, Peggy's husband and Darcy's brother by law began to explain and it sounded very much like he was just repeating her father's words. "He is loyal, kind hearted and-"
"Boring," Darcy finished, causing Steve to sigh and Bucky to laugh.
"I am sorry but I must agree," Bucky snickered, earning a glare from Steve. "I had always hoped that Darcy would marry a charming man from our battalion."
"My father obviously feels there are too many soldiers married into the family," shrugged Darcy, thinking back on Jane's new husband, Thor. While not in Steve's battalion, he was still one of the King's trusted captains and fought gallantly in the War of the Roses, despite being a foreign soldier. "Though, I had always hoped you, Bucky, would settle down long enough to consider my offer seriously."
"An offer of marriage due to distress is not one I would consider, my dearest. The fact I see you as more of a sister, also weighs into that decision."
"You should be so lucky as to be my husband," Darcy stated haughtily and Bucky barked out a laugh.
"As Ian will be once you give him the chance," Steve insisted. Darcy caught Bucky rolling his eyes just as she was.
"Please. My father is not around. You can voice your opinion freely, you know?" pleaded Darcy. She knew that Steve was more than capable of his own opinions, though nowadays, he seemed to be trying to be more diplomatic. Father had never truly liked Steve and for some unknown reason, the captain was now trying to earn some goodwill.
"It would be foolish of me to disagree that his match is a sound one, politically. The Boothby's own a large portion of land and have been in good standing with our King's family for generations. You know well that your father has been at odds with the King as of late. For the safety of his holdings and his daughters, he must assert his support," Steve said and Darcy yawned at his explanation. She decided that was the closest Steve would come to defying her father these days. Resigning herself to this horrid fate, Darcy looked away only to be surprised by the clearing of Steve's throat.
"And perhaps I do not entirely agree with your father's opinion that Ian is a suitable match for your wily personality but what can I do about it? Living on your own in the village as a healer is perhaps a lofty goal for a woman of your blood but there are other options. I am certainly not suggesting that you find an even better match and alliance. One that your father could not deny. And I am certainly not going to introduce Boothby to Stark during your visit away."
Each word made Darcy smile until her grin hurt her cheeks. That was the Steve that taught Darcy how to tussle and sneak around the castle without the servants knowing what mischief she was up to until it was over. Although Steve appeared to be the exemplary soldier, Peggy had fallen in love with him for being able to take matters into his own hands and seeking out justice even when he disagreed with the King. He'd often gallop along the line of treason and undeniable morality. Obviously, he did not agree with this betrothal but it was up to Darcy to come up with a plan so as not to implicate him. Which was all fine with her. Darcy was not afraid of her father's ire and was certainly fine bearing the brunt of it.
"Yes, well good luck finding a suitor around here that doesn't herd goats for a living," Bucky snorted, dampening Darcy's hope. "Now don't give me that face. You know as well as I do that all the men in this hamlet are either married, old or not yet fifteen. Besides, goats and sheep are the main source of income in these parts. Do you really want to be the wife of a goat herder?"
"It would be better than the wife of a spineless git," huffed Darcy, tears beginning to form at the corners of her eyes. Not wanting to reveal any sign of weakness, Darcy pulled up the hood of her scarlet cloak and let it fall just below her brow as she ignored Steve's reminder to watch her language. Her cloak was a deep shade with a silver wolf's head clasp and reached just above her ankles when standing. Inside of the cloak, embroidered on the lining sitting between her shoulders, were two wolves, long bodies entwined and knotted. Each had either the moon or sun in their jaws. The cloak was her most valuable possession. Also, it was the only connection Darcy had left of her mother, other than her grandmother of course. The only memories she had of her mother were the stories her grandmother told her.
While Darcy cherished every summer she was allowed to spend with her grandmother, it pained her to know that this would likely be the last. Again, she cursed Ian Boothby for ever setting sights on her and deciding that she was meant to be the love of his life. All of her life, Darcy had thought she was meant for something more than to live as chattel. Her sisters had all proven such for themselves but it seemed that Darcy could not. There were more than enough healers in their village and Darcy's talents had yet to surpass any of them.
"That is the only reason father ever let me come back to visit with grandmother ever since turning fourteen. It was because he knew there would be no man to steal me away."
"And if there were, he would have been scared off anyway by your grandparents," Bucky helpfully pointed out, causing Darcy to roll her eyes. While her grandmother was revered in the village for knowledge of healing and the old ways, there was still a hint of fear. It was never enough fear to cause disdain and hatred but just enough to keep the villagers away unless she was needed. Her grandfather, before he disappeared, was a kind, educated man but often kept to himself. Also, he was the owner of a rage when provoked and so many avoided to tempt it. For some reason, both had spread onto Darcy's reputation. Not that many ever bothered to learn much about her but that was one of the reasons why Darcy enjoyed her stays in the summer. She was free to go where she wanted without any fear.
"Your grandfather was a fearsome man to behold. Or so the tales say," Steve said lightly, though curiosity stained his tone.
"Only when provoked," corrected Darcy. "He was kind and caring. Loved grandmother and I beyond belief."
"No one ever found him after all these years? At least a hint of him?" asked Bucky lightly. With a sigh, Darcy closed her eyes and felt the familiar, yet now dulled pain at the memory.
"Not even a body. Only a torn and bloody shirt. Everyone believes that wolf devoured him, bones and all," Darcy's voice wavered. Just after her 14th birthday, a wolf had begun to attack the village herds and her grandfather had been the final victim before the beast moved on. She'd been the very one to find the very shirt she helped sew for him, ripped, bloodied and muddied.
"Are you sure you want to stay here alone? I'm certain that Steve can do without me if you wished for me to stay this summer," Bucky offered, his concern catching Darcy by surprise. "Your grandmother must have a cot I can set by the fire."
"Unless you intend to marry me, I think that would be quite untoward. Besides, there hasn't been a wolf attack since then. I shall be fine as I always have," Darcy insisted calmly after taking a long moment to consider her answer. Although she was touched by Bucky's concern, she felt it was a tad misplaced. There was nothing in these forests that scared her. Besides, even if something happened, Bucky had been the one to teach her to wield a dagger, Steve taught her to tussle and Peggy taught her how to shoot an arrow. She was very capable .
Yet, just as she decided to remind Bucky of these facts, Darcy practically swallowed her tongue. Upon turning the bend in the road, they reached an abandoned hut. It marked the last house on this path before reaching her grandmother.
Except this time, the little round hut was far from abandoned. All the damage to the thatched roof and the rot to the walls had been patched. An extended roof had even been built to cover the beginnings of what looked to be a blacksmith's shop. The forge was not burning but there were still tools and half finished swords and shields hanging about. Yet, that did not hold Darcy's attention for long.
In front of the house, a behemoth chopped wood, not at all bothered by the sweat dripping off his half naked and war scarred body. Sunlight glinted off his muscles, accentuating the way his back and arms rippled at each heave. But even that wasn't the thing that held Darcy's eye. It was the blue colored design on his back. Although, he was at a distance and it appeared that some of it had been burned off, there was no mistaking the two entwined wolves with a moon and sun in each jaw. Darcy remembered her stepmother once telling her a story of fierce warriors who pricked their skin with permanent blue dyed designs.
A startled gasp left her mouth as she stopped her mount. At both of her sides, Bucky and Steve stiffened but mistook her gasp as one of virgin reservation. The closest to the stranger and in her line of vision was Bucky. From the look on his face, Darcy could tell he was debating whether or not he should sleep in her grandmother's doorway. As her grandmother was but a five minute trot from this point, the rugged gentleman would obviously have no trouble popping in on his neighbors for daily visits. The thought brought a smile to Darcy's face when she knew it shouldn't. Another thought crossed her mind as she blatantly stared at the man's well muscled figure. He had the body of a warrior, not of a small village blacksmith. At least, she assumed such. She hadn't seen many blacksmiths but she had on many occasions watched the soldiers and knights train.
It did not take long for the man to realize he was being watched. There was tension forming between his shoulder blades but he still chopped three more logs before turning around. As he did so, Darcy lowered her hood and caught his eye. She was unable to hide her smile until he saw it.
Standing up straighter, the man seemed to take in Darcy's sudden appearance with interest. His eyes trailed up from the cloak around her shoulders and stayed on her face, a satisfied smile settling on his lips. Then they trailed down her body slowly before moving back up. Tiny bumps prickled her skin as if she could feel his gaze caressing her body. The glowers from Steve and Bucky did not stop the man's obvious and almost offensive scrutiny.
"Hullo there! I did not think this home was occupied. We have traveled his route every summer for five years now," Steve called out, appearing friendly but his hand still gripped the hilt of the sword at his side.
"I just moved in three weeks ago at the suggestion of the kind French woman who lives down this path. Nursed me to health and offered this place as a respite for the continuation of my recovery," explained the man in a rough, deep voice that caused shivers to run down Darcy's spine. That did not go unnoticed by Bucky, whose brow furrowed.
"What did you have? Not the plague, I hope," teased Steve with a more playful tone. He moved to slide off his horse and walked towards the other man, arm up and fingers raising the visor to his missing helmet- a greeting reserved for other knights. Despite his open manner, Darcy knew Steve was ready for a strike if need be.
"No. Wolf attack," shrugged the stranger, raising his arm to offer the same greeting. When catching himself, he ended up using his arm to wipe away the sweat on his brow instead. His eyes moved back to Darcy for a brief moment, as if to gauge her reaction, though she could not think of why he'd want to see it. Steve finally reached the man and waited for a greeting befitting someone of a lower station. While Steve had never been one to really care about the proper greetings shared between the lower and upper classes, it was clear to Darcy it was a test to see what this stranger's gut reaction would be. Eventually, the man bowed in front of Steve, but kept his gaze on Darcy, as if to direct the polite behavior towards her only.
"Strange to hear of a wolf attack so late in spring," Bucky said, also sliding off his horse but not before sending Darcy a look that clearly stated she should not even entertain the notion of following suit. The only revenge she could get at that was to roll her eyes at his retreating back. "They usually try their luck with livestock. Humans hardly ever get cornered."
"Perhaps it was an especially difficult winter?" mused the stranger, not really giving much thought to it. He shrugged and Darcy's eyes fell to the scarred bite marks on his left shoulder. The puckered white scars looked rather healed for a bite mark from three weeks ago, especially given the depth it must have been to have caused such a prominent scar.
"What is your name, blacksmith?" Bucky asked and the man raised a somewhat condescending eyebrow and smirk to match the question's tone.
"Brock," the man offered, not bothered by the long pause as Bucky and Steve waited for more.
"I am Sir Steven Rogers and this is Sir James Barnes. Knights of our good King Edward," Steve declared once it was clear Brock would not offer his full title. The mention of the King made Brock stiffen but he forced himself to relax. Looking back up to Darcy, he sent her a grin that made her think back on the stories her grandmother told her about wolves hiding in forests just waiting to devour little girls whole. Good thing she wasn't a little girl anymore.
"And the beautiful maiden you are escorting?" Brock asked, this time causing Steve's and Bucky's backs to stiffen. Both men began to move their hands towards the hilts at their hips but stopped themselves halfway.
"This maiden's name is Darcy," stated Darcy matter-of-factly. Her answer made Brock's grin grow even wider. "And that kind Frenchwoman is my grandmother. I have come to visit her before I am to be sold to one of the King's favourite idiots."
"Darcy-" Bucky sighed in exasperation at her bluntness when he and Steve were trying to gauge the situation with their brooding. It didn't matter to Darcy whether or not Brock meant any ill toward her over that bit of information. Although the man boasted some impressive muscles, she wasn't much intimidated by him. Though, perhaps that was foolishness on her part?
"Favorite idiots? A shame," Brock lamented sincerely, his grin dimming and Darcy was pleased she could not find a hint of pity in the man's reaction, just disappointment and a dash of anger. It mirrored her quite well.
"Yes, but it is the duty of a Baron's daughter," Steve said, stepping to the side so that he was directly in Brock's line of vision to Darcy. The pursed lips Brock gave Steve challenged that statement.
"What Steve is trying to say is that you shouldn't get any naughty thoughts in your head about me. Given that you are so close to my grandmother's home. Only gentlemanly behavior is to be expected," Darcy said, smiling because even if she couldn't see it, the twitching of Steve's sword hand meant he had the most amusing look of irritation on his face.
"For you, I will endeavor to try my hardest," swore Brock, bowing slightly in a manner that towards anyone else would be mocking but when directed at Darcy, somehow had the utmost of respect. "Though, I cannot make any true promises."
"You'll have to do better than that," Bucky said. "In fact you can start by putting on your shirt. Tis only polite in front of the lady."
"The lady doesn't mind," Darcy blurted, cheeks blooming with red as Brock winked at her, his lips twisting with self-assurance. That sort of arrogant expression normally caused irritation to swell inside of her without fail. Every knight or squire that thought he could woo Darcy with just a kind word and spared glance had always been met with Darcy's ire. Yet somehow, no words were sharpening her tongue now. This sudden development caused Darcy's eyes to widen as the sensation of fluttering dragonflies floated in her stomach and chest. All she could do was take in Brock's glistening muscles, flexing ever so slightly under her appraisal while he leaned down and picked the axe back up, as well as placing another log on the chopping block. Licking her lips, Darcy swallowed and realized that her throat had dried. Even if she could come up with a quick retort, she wasn't sure she could utter it.
"It of no consequence if the lady minds," Steve spoke up after clearing his throat, a little uncomfortable at the display in front of him. When he was uneasy, Steve often bumbled over his words and had done so many times when first meeting Peggy. The stuttering had gotten much better over the years, though. Still, he often would say something to accidentally offend the party he wished to protect or compliment. In Darcy's opinion, she thought what she felt certainly did matter. Especially since it was her life being bartered away. Steve had inadvertently sounded just like her father when telling Darcy that she was going to marry and that was final. "The two knights with swords? We mind. Though it is no longer any matter, for we will be on our way."
"If I were you, blacksmith, I'd be careful about what little old French women you associate with till the leaves start to fall," Bucky warned as he and Steve made their ways back to the horses. When their backs had turned, Brock curled his lip but said nothing. He rolled his shoulders and in one fluid, graceful motion, turned to lift the axe above his head and bring it down. The log splintered from the force and shards flew in various directions. At the heavy thunk of the axe hitting the chopping block, Steve and Bucky turned to look at Brock for any signs of danger. All they saw was a forced smile as Brock placed another log into place. Once the knights mounted their horses, they urged the nervous beasts forward.
Reluctantly, Darcy followed suit, sparing a glance back at Brock and the design on his back that filled her with a thousand questions but also a slight pounding in her chest. This summer would be different from her previous visits for numerous reasons but there were now a few newer ones added to her list. Perhaps it wouldn't be as terrible as she thought, inching towards the inevitable.