Disclaimer: I don't own Atlantis, or anything related to it. I do however own the DVDs, about as close as I'll get.
A/N:Yes, I know this will make no sense, but please read and then understand. Also apologies, I was going through a phase of reading a lot of Elizabeth Chadwick books, hence the 12th Century England and France style.
Chapter 2
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Men barked orders at her in a language she didn't understand, she was grabbed roughly by the arm and hauled to her feet, disgust was evident on their faces as they noticed the blood matted in her short hair, the smell of human waste pervading their nostrils. Pushing her into a clean room, they left her with a tub of tepid water, and a rough cloth. Time, it seemed, to bathe.
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Guiding the horse round with his knees, shield on one arm, lance in the other, the Boy urged the horse into a gallop. He could feel the horse's muscles bunch under him as the roan gelding flew across the field. Moments before reaching his target, he rose up in the saddle, bracing his lance against his hip he struck the brightly coloured shield taunting him, the blow glanced off, it didn't hit the right spot, and he knew he was doomed, he tried to turn the horse away before the impact, but failed and was smacked on the back, and tossed from the saddle to the soft, muddy ground beneath.
Groaning he rolled to his feet and dusted himself off, his lord, Simon de Lenate, threw him a wineskin and went to reset the quintain.
"Don't worry lad, at least you can make it move now," He laughed, watching the boy go scarlet, "besides, you've been with me a senight, and came to me less than a boy, you'll do for now."
"Thank you my Lord," the Boy said, bowing.
"Come lad, the night is coming faster than we can move, time to eat."
Bowing again, the Boy took the reins of his horse, and led it back to the stable. Leaving him in the care of a groom, the Boy made his way across to the keep.
Lord Simon was a hearth knight, he had pledged fealty to a man by the name of Earl Thomas of Aberwyn, third cousin of King Richard. As a hearth knight, he had no fixed dwelling, he stayed wherever his lord did, and slept, as the title suggested, in the great hall by the fire with all the other knights in Earl Thomas' employ. As his Squire, the boy was of less importance and could sleep where he liked.
Crossing the courtyard between the stables and the hall, the Boy was aware of many eyes watching his progress. To his left he saw two of the kitchen maids nudge each other and giggle, a total lack of propriety being shown as they vied for his attention. To his right he saw a group of Earl Thomas' Squires, who eyed him with a mixture of anger and mistrust. Ducking his head, the boy near ran into the hall, desperate to be away from prying eyes.
He couldn't help attracting attention, his dark wavy hair reached just below his jaw, often falling over his face and concealing ice blue eyes. His colouring was rare, his skin was pale, his bone structure small, and wiry muscles were concealed easily under tunic and braies. It made him both interesting and attractive to women, and if truth be told, to men of a certain persuasion.
He climbed the steps into the hall, and seated himself at one of the lower trestles. Glancing at the dais he noticed the Earl was in residence, awaiting the birth of his latest bastard offspring no doubt. The Boy had only been with Lord Simon for a week, and in the area only a senight longer, yet three children had been born of the Earl's loins in that short space, it was rumoured his youngest mistress, of only fifteen, was in travail at this moment.
During his musings a bowl of pottage and day old bread had been placed in front of him, it was consumed as quickly as he could manage. Conversation went on around him but he didn't join in, his grasp of the language wasn't good enough yet, so he listened and picked up what he could in the hope of improving swiftly.
"Boy! Come to my table!" Lord Simon bellowed from across the room, "My squire does not sit by the door!"
He flushed scarlet, and left his table, hastening to the other side, hoping to be ignored. Sitting by his Lord, he was presented with more food, only this time he noticed his server. "Thank you," he said, quietly, and was rewarded with a small smile from the serving woman.
"So. Simon, who's the lad?" asked a stout, middle-aged man across the trestle.
"My new squire, Lord James, I believe him to be around fourteen years. Is he not a promising looking young man?"
"He is, he is." He turned to address the boy, "do you not have a tongue in your head lad?"
"He speaks but a small amount James, but I believe he understands more."
"I spoke to the Boy Simon, not you. What's your name lad? Come, speak!"
"Em…Liam my Lord, Liam el Trouney." It was the first name that had come into his head when Simon took him for a squire, it was similar enough.
More conversation followed, before Simon decided that it was late, "Go to bed boy, the stables should suit you." He was used to Liam's odd ways and penchant for sleeping alone, he thought it odd for a boy who had so much female attention, but he thought little of it.
Settling down in the stable by the gelding, Liam sighed, this was going to get very difficult, when asked for a name, the wrong one had very nearly came out, what would have happened? If the response had been "Emily my Lord, Emily Turner."
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Sparring, it took his mind off things, lashing out at Ronan he tried to beat the larger man. He feinted left, but struck right, landing a lucky blow to the lower stomach. Ronan grunted and swung back, catching John on the chin and making his head swim, a flick of his foot brought Sheppard down hard.
"You are not up to this, you still need rest." He said whilst extending his arm to pull John up.
"Yeah? Well I need to keep busy, stops me thinking."
"Some might say it doesn't take much." Ronan responded with a grin, "But I don't mind beating you up again if it makes you feel better."
"Great, I'm glad we understand each other."
The sparring match began again.
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This was definitely an improvement, clean clothes and fresh air; they went a long way to making her feel better. As she curled up to sleep in the hay, she thought, 'maybe tomorrow, the sun will rise again.'
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