Thank you for those who are reading this story. I very appreciate your support and thank you for the reviews. Sorry if this is shorter than the previous chapter.
Hope you enjoy this chapter. ^^
Alistair hauled the stone from the wooden cart and transferred it on the ground, taking a slight pause to catch his breath. He glanced up, counting the number of the stones.
Fifteen. He counted as he straightened his back to stretch. He could hear his shoulder blades cracked softly as he flexed his arms. He rubbed his injured shoulder, grunting painfully.
"You don't have to overwork yourself, Al," He heard his brother said. Arthur stopped applying the mortar against a part of the wall. They have been working on the stone tower for several months now, almost a year, and yet there's not a single reason why they are building it. It was her orders. His stepmother, Lady Hanna, had pretty much taken over the household, while his father was out of town. Hanna had grown used to Alistair and his siblings to work various chores, from cleaning the dusty attic, washing the clothes, repatching the roof, and to cook meals.
It wasn't half a year ago when a very wealthy man happen to come by while Alistair and his sister Janet was plowing the fields. He seemed very curious over Janet, his eyes lingered over at her fair gingered hair and her figure. Alistair remembered he had to shield her to avoid any further glances and scowled at him. The man just chuckled and continued his way down the dirt path.
Alistair suppressed a sigh, combing his maroon colored hair. He leaned his elbow against the wooden cart, returning a gaze at Arthur.
"It's just a sore, nothing else." Alistair prompted as he shifted his feet, uncomfortably. A throbbing pain spread across his sole as he stepped on something sharp. A small pebble, he guessed. He tried to keep a straight face, not flinching from the pain. He had gone used to it, wearing nothing but old and torn shoes. He's usually fine wearing straw like shoes during the summer, but with the winter drawing near, it's a different story.
Before Arthur could even argue, Dylan turned around to face his brothers, his face filled with concern.
"We should take a break now," Dylan mustered, jerking his head towards a faint figure coming from the house, coming near to them. "Janet's coming this way,"
Alistair couldn't help but to cast a small glance at Arthur, seeing him puffed his cheeks with frustration. He rubbed his temple, unsure what to react. Over the past ten years, Arthur had grown detached. Alistair found is strange, maybe it's just his personality. It pains him to remember how he held Arthur close to him, as they mourned together after their mother's death. Janet and Dylan was standing outside, their faces hard to comprehend under Alistair's stinging tears. He remembered that his father, Caratacus, bellowed with grief, a strong and bold man, now broken into pieces. Alistair and his siblings had recovered from their trauma but Caratacus was never the same again. He could remembered late at night, when nightmares of his mother's death struck, he would ran to his father's room, but only found him, huddling in the corner, holding a piece of locket to his heart, weeping softly.
Janet grinned happily, carrying a basket, stopping in front of them. She haven't cut off her hair. Alistair thought in his mind, briefly glancing at her long ginger hair. And by long, it's really long, almost down to her torso. Janet had her hair tied repeatedly in a bun so she wouldn't get it dirty.
"Why do you boys always looked so bum out?" She asked, raising her brow, before setting down her basket.
Alistair shrugged. "Haven't got a clue. Maybe it's because we are starving," He said, simply. He could hear Dylan and Arthur snickered from behind. At least he could still make them laugh.
Janet let out a soft chuckle, rolling her eyes. "Well it's a good thing I came here," She said, opening the basket. "I brought some bread and water,"
Alistair nodded, as he handed the bread slices to his brother. He watched the both of them sat down on the ground, chatting away, while munching on the bread, hungrily. He turned his gaze at the horizon, noticing the midday sun, warming up the air a bit.
"Alistair, are you all right?" Janet's worried tone asked. Alistair glanced over his shoulder, quickly quirking up a smile.
"It's naethin' special, just seeing the sun reminds me about our athair," Alistair replied softly, as he curled up his fingers slightly. Janet took a moment to eye her brother carefully before she responded.
She shut the basket lid, picking it up with her hand. "I heard he's coming back today," She said, matter of factly.
"He is?" Alistair felt his eyes grew wider with surprise, making sure he hasn't heard it wrong.
"Aye,"
Alistair quickly turned to Dylan and Arthur; a smile appeared on his face.
"Did ye hear 'at?" Alistair grinned from ear to ear, ignoring the fact that his accent is coming back again. A mild chuckle came from him, to him; it was like a heavy boulder lifting from his chest. Arthur quickly stood up, after he finished eating his bread. Wiping off the crumbs with the back of his hand, he glanced at his hands, a furrowed sketched on his face.
"Do we need to-" Arthur started but was quickly interrupted by Janet as she pulled him towards her.
"Stop talking," Janet let out a bubbly laughter as Arthur almost stumbled forward from the force as she lets go of his arm. She waved her index finger at her brothers, shaking her head. "Mother's going to get mad at us if we don't hurry up." Another giggle came, as she added before turning her heels and darted inside the house.
Arthur blinked, standing there, gawking.
"Tell me if she's isn't going a bit daft." He mumbled.
Dylan sighed, walking past him, rolling down his sleeves. "Stop talking," He mimicked Janet, teasing him slightly, as he went back to the house. Alistair clamped his hand over to his mouth, holding back a stiffed laughter. Arthur growled, throwing a punch at Alistair's arm.
"Stop it, it's not funny." Arthur snapped, giving him a glare, crossing his arms defensively. Alistair finally was able to regained control and straightened his back. An acute pain began to throb as he moved his arms too quickly. Arthur frown even further, noticing Alistair's quick grimace and sighed.
"Mother shouldn't be able to let you do labor," He said briefly.
"It's just a-"
Arthur flashed a look at his older brother.
"Don't you tell me it's just a sore," Arthur hissed, without a warning, he lunged forward, pulling hard against Alistair's injured arm. He let out a cry; hot tears appeared around his eyes.
"Stop it," Alistair began, choking under the pain, whimpering.
"It hurt isn't?" Arthur smiled, cocking his head to a side. "Well it hurts even more to see you worked your head off and Hanna won't even bother to cast a single look at you. To see how you raise your family and to raise me, without knowing what my real mother looks like." Arthur said, irritably. He blinked his eyes, pushing away his tears.
Alistair fell silent, feeling his heart plummeted to his stomach. This was the first time that Arthur ever spoke his emotions. He bit his lips, as he looked at his feet, seeing the same torn shoes that he always worn for ten years. Ten years since his father remarried. Ten years since his mother died. But Arthur was born and that's all that matters now. He couldn't lose Arthur now. Not even Janet and Dylan.
He took a deep sigh, slowly pulled away from Arthur's grip.
"Her name is Briana," He started, the coldness already settling in his veins. Memories of her death flashed in his mind.
Arthur glanced up, his green eyes flickered.
"She was the most beautiful woman; all men adored her and wanted to steal her away. But none of them had stolen her feelings away." Alistair went on.
"Until she met father," Arthur added with a smile.
"Aye, she met father, it was love at first sight," He replied, returning the smile. It has taken off his mood off a bit, as he retold the story. He had always known to be the best storyteller in his family, a side of his father. "They met and fell in love. They would dance and make alluring songs out of them. And they would sing their hearts for each other as they dance. They would…."
Alistair paused as Arthur closed his eyes, a smile slowly appeared.
"What song do they sing?" He asked.
Alistair chuckled softly.
"They would see ballads of the rise of the Romans, sweet battles fought, lovers embraced each other, and young warriors would dance." Alistair said, his voice suddenly dropped low and soft.
"What about the laurel?" Arthur wondered out loud, his eyes still closed, imagining.
"Yes, the laurel. He would give her a laurel. A special one, handmade out of his love and his heart. It would shine upon her head, whenever she smiled at the world; they would all fall to their knees and beg her to become their queen." Alistair breathed slowly and paused.
Arthur reopened his eyes as it lighted with energy. "What happens next?" He demanded, wanting to know.
Alistair shook his head. "The rest you should know," He chuckled, nodding at him. Arthur sighed, defeated.
"But," Alistair quickly amended. "I will tell you the rest when athair comes home." He said, ruffling Arthur's blonde hair. "I'm not exactly a good storyteller."
Arthur narrowed his eyes at him. "But you could learn from Father." He huffed quietly.
Alistair smiled thoughtfully. "Aye, 'tis true." He sighed, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. "So do you want me to go down in one knee and sing you a love ballad, because I think we got the time."
Arthur quickly ducked under, pushing away and quickly dashed back to the house, without looking back.
"Hey do you think I should wear this?" Alistair asked as he gazed himself at the wall mirror, switching from a blue to a plain white tunic. "I think the blue matches my hair, right?" He broke off from the mirror and glanced at the others for their advice.
Janet stood up after helping Dylan find his pair of new shoes. "Why am I'm the only one running around like a horse?" She muttered under her breath, darkly. Alistair cleared his throat.
"I need help deciding."
Janet snorted, turning her back to him. "The blue one will do."
Alistair shrugged, decided to choose the white one instead, as he hung the blue tunic up on the closet. He grunted softly as Dylan inched his way to the mirror, checking already groomed hair. He stripped off his work clothes, feeling relief washed over him as the cool air seem to lifted the heat and the dust from his skin.
"You should really take a shower," Alistair heard Janet's bored voice in the distance. "You look you just played around in the mud."
Alistair sighed, secretly admitting that she's right. His hair was matted with grime and sweat and his skin was dried with mud and a few cuts from lifting the stones. He quietly slipped out of the room, heading to the small bathroom, grabbing his new set of clothes. Closing the door, Alistair ruffled his hair as he turned on the water. Making sure that the water is warm enough, he took off his trousers and his shoes before stepping inside to shower, then pulled the curtains. The water trickled down from his hair down to his face as he began scrubbed hard around his fingernails and behind his ears. His tension seem to ease a little as he began to relaxed. He closed his eyes, feeling the water pelting down to his skin.
"Alistair, if you open your mouth to sing, I swear to God, I will shove the door in your face,"
Alistair glanced around, letting out an irritated scowl.
"I'm not singing, Janet." Alistair smirked, as he softly uttered a song, just to annoy her. The door swung open with Janet standing with her arms crossed.
"Out of the shower now," She demanded, as Alistair peered over the curtains enough that he could see her.
"But I wasn't singing loud enough yet,"
"Out. Now."
Alistair laughed, grinning widely. "Do you want to see me fully?" He asked her, jokingly, as he watched Janet's face redden. With a flash, she threw him a clean towel.
"Just don't waste water next time," She avoided the question and closed the door before she stumbled off to search for Dylan's shoes again.
It didn't take long for Alistair to dried himself and slipped on his white tunic and a pair of new trousers. The tunic felt soft under his skin, it was his first gift from Hanna, during Christmas and his only one. He rarely wore it often since it was made by the finest silk and hates for it to be damaged or stained. Alistair walked out from the bathroom, as their room appeared empty. There are voices coming downstairs, indicating that they are already at the foyer, awaiting for their Father arrival. Alistair took a last glance at the room, a last minute check, before he joined the others down at the foyer.
He climbed down the stairs, spotting Hanna rushing around, checking the cleanliness of the room, her velvet red dress swirled around her feet. "Alistair! There you are," Hanna called, seizing his arms as she scowled slightly. "You can't even buttoned your tunic right," She muttered, quickly fixing it. "And your hair! You look like a drenched cat!" She cried out, snapping her fingers. Janet quickly rushed to the laundry room and came out with towels.
"Mother," Janet said, handing Hanna the towels. Hanna snatched the towel and forcefully dried Alistair's hair, grunting. Alistair grimaced slightly, as Hanna tugged too hard.
"There, you look like a man now," Hanna took a step back, eyeing Alistair from top to bottom. "Oh, you're Father's going to arrive any moment," She fanned herself, as she plopped onto the couch.
Alistair turned his attention at the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of any carriage that went by. His heart pounded with excitement as a silver golden carriage rolled by, escorted by several uniformed men on their horses, carrying rifles.
"I found my shoe," Dylan said, beaming, as he came from the kitchen. Alistair turned around, placing his finger over his lips, then pointed at the window. Arthur and Janet huddled by the window, peering outside, brimming with curiosity. Dylan frowned, leaning forward to the window, wanting to see.
"Who is that?" Dylan asked, gaping in awe, as he watched the silver carriage. "I don't think that's our Father." He added.
Alistair went to the kitchen, following the carriage. He parted the curtain with his hand, peering outside. The carriage made a slight turn, so it was now closer enough so he could see who's inside. He spotted a young girl, her hair twirled in a luscious silken brunette, her lips was crimson red as it revealed a smile that Alistair would never forget. He was dazed by her beauty as he followed the carriage, taking in every moment that he saw her. The girl suddenly turned her head and met Alistair's eyes, he gulped softly. She couldn't possibly see him, but she waved politely at him, a kind gesture. With that, the carriage was out of sight, as the bugles slowly died down.
"Whenever she smiled at the world; they would all fall to their knees and beg her to become their queen." Alistair whispered to himself.
Helpful guide to the names
Alistair - Scotland
Arthur - England
Dylan - Wales
Janet - Ireland
Short Background Notes: I put Lady Hanna as their stepmom is because the Viking era. Basically the Norse (mostly Danes) conquer most of the British Isles, such as Scotland, Ireland, England, except for Wales. They actually build base at Wales, but not exactly wanted to conquer due to its lack of resources (perhaps). I would put Norway sometime later the story, the gender I'm unsure with.
Scottish Gaelic/Slang:
athair - father
It's naethin' special - It's nothing special
Did ye hear 'at? - Did you hear that?
