Disclaimer: I don't own 'A Knight's Tale' or any of the characters.
Notes: Just a quick little piece I typed up on William musing during a sleepless night.
Changing the Stars
By: Lost-Remembrance (Red Tail)
William closed his eyes and lifted his arm above his shoulder before wincing and lowering it back down to the position it was in beforehand. He exhaled deeply and looked up at the cloth roof of his tent. Beside him his friends Wat and Roland were slumbering. Chaucer was probably out strolling the near-deserted streets, mumbling strings of sentences and whispering stories to himself as he often did in the dead of night.
Sometimes he imagined he could see the stars on nights like these. Impossible, he knew—the fabric veiled any sights of the heavens, but it gave him some comfort in the fact that the stars never changed in all the places he traveled.
His stomach churned at that thought. No, that wasn't true. After all, a man could change the stars.
He rolled over onto his side, careful of his shoulder. He had accidentally taken one hit too hard, forgetting to roll his shoulder lightly. It still ached with phantom twinges.
It must have been the thought that no matter what lands he traveled to, or how far he found himself from his roots, the stars always remained a similar setting once the sun hid the foreign surroundings. The stars he gazed upon were the same that his father saw each night.
He huffed out a breath of air, foot jumping up and down in the air in a nervous display of energy. Recently, he had begun to feel bored in the tourneys. He found little thrill or joy in each win. He felt like he was standing on a ladder and no one dared to climb up and knock him on his arse.
Adamar still hadn't returned from playing his war games and Jocelyn was irritated over something that he had said to offend her. Honestly, he pondered, I will never understand the workings of a woman's mind.
Roland snorted in his sleep, severing Williams thoughts.
Will shut his eyes tightly, not even opening them when he felt the soft breeze indicating the flap had been opened as Chaucer entered the tent silently.
"Get a good nights sleep, Will. Looks like you're going to need it." Chaucer whispered in his direction before a rustle of clothing told the knight that his herald had finally laid down and closed his eyes for rest.
'Easier said than done, Chaucer.' He mentally grumbled, irritated at the fact that sleep still continued to allude him. He tried calming himself and thinking of soothing thoughts. No jousting, no Adamar, no Jocelyn, and no secrets or lies.
His body relaxed as his mind wandered to dreams of the past, dreams where the idea of a man changing his stars were possible.
FIN