Chuck versus the Positively Medieval
by Steampunk . Chuckster
Summary: In the provincial town of Pinedeep, everyone knows: The only way to secure the hand of the heiress of the Walker fortune is to catch her black cat and take the key that hangs from its collar back to the heiress Walker's home where it will unlock the door and unlock her fortune. When enigmatic siblings from afar settle in Pinedeep, will the shifting winds they bring prove fateful? Medieval AU.
A/N: I don't have much to say. But I want to make sure I finish posting this fic since it's written to the end. Thanks for the patience.
Disclaimer: I don't own these characters or Medieval Times-though if I did own Medieval Times, I'd make the chairs in that place a little more comfortable and there would be better options for my vegetarian sisters and brothers to eat while enjoying the show.
He stroked the horse's mane as she ate her hay, brush in hand, and then he ran the brush over her beautiful brownish-red coat that covered her neck and shoulders.
Chuck snorted quietly to himself at how messy and loud this horse was as she ate. In the meantime, his and Ellie's horse was such a delicate creature who gently munched on hay, none of this loud slopping and chomping.
"Thou art enjoying thy breakfast, Rose. Dear sweet creature," he muttered, reverently brushing her.
"She always does."
Eyes wide, he turned to see that Sarah had come out to join him. She leaned her shoulder against the frame of the entrance into her stables. How long had she been standing there watching?
Now she knew he spoke to horses. Thank the spirits she would never know anything of how often he had spoken to that cat of hers. Speaking of which… He glanced around the place. "I have not seen thy cat since we arrived here after the celebrations."
"Oh. Her." She shrugged. "She is always somewhere. I have found 'tis better for me not to wonder after her. She cometh back when it suits her."
"Ah. Independent is she?" Sarah nodded. "Makes sense from what I have seen of her."
She gestured towards her horse then. "Thou didst not need to brush her, but 'tis thoughtful."
"Oh. I know. She seemeth very well taken care of. Only I want her to like me and I thought a brushing during breakfast would help my cause." He grinned toothily and she chuckled.
"She certainly liketh thee. I can already tell. Put the brush down and join me hither. I intend to teach thee about chickens, goats, and the cow. Come." She gestured out of the door into the fog with a flick of her head.
It seemed to be clearing even in the time he spent refreshing Rose's hay and water. It had been a journey finding the stables in the thick fog ten minutes earlier.
He followed Sarah across the clearing towards a large enclosed and raised structure. A ramp led down into a long strip of grass-covered area that was encased in see-through wire fencing. That was for the chickens to stretch their legs and roam without being terrorized by foxes, wolves, or large flying predators like hawks looking for easy prey.
Chuck had never seen such a grandiose chicken coop before in his life.
Sarah smirked a bit at him as they approached. "My father's father's…father built this chicken coop years ago. I had naught to do with it. But I have had to restring some of the wiring. 'Least I helped my own father do so when I was but a girl in pigtails."
He couldn't keep the quiet giggle in as he imagined this woman much smaller and with pigtails.
"I am almost envious of thy chickens."
Sarah laughed and rolled her eyes at him. "Hm. Thou art fresh this morning. I take it ye slept well?"
"I did," he lied. He had not fallen asleep until the early hours of the morn. He imagined the sun had just been starting to come up once he was able to sleep. But it would do no good to tell her so.
"Good."
He helped her retrieve the seed mixture, and he found himself laughing at the way the funny little creatures all pushed at each other with their little crooked wings to rush down the plank into the enclosed space as Sarah began to pour the feed along the edges of the wire fencing. "Well! Thou hast gotten their attention, methinks."
She laughed as well. "Silly, are they not?"
"Very," he said, grinning happily as he watched them stoop to peck at the ground eagerly, jostling one another out of the way to eat.
"The trick is not to spread too much, else they overeat. I have found they are not the smartest little animals. If the food is there, they will eat it 'til they keel over and die." She rolled her eyes, clutching the feed in the apron she held up with the edges clutched in one fist, gently tossing the feed with her other.
She did it with so much ease and peace, he wondered if this morning routine with her livestock, the caring of this estate and the creatures she kept on it, was something that brought her contentment.
He did not know why he had expected to wake up with her lying beside him, sleeping still. Even at this early hour, of course she would be up out of bed caring for her horse, her chickens, her goats, and her cow.
Chuck had never seen others working her land. Perhaps because she preferred to be alone, solitary. Or perhaps she wanted to keep her secrets close to her chest—namely the fact that she spent her free time tumbling about in the grass and dirt, training with weapons. Unseemly though it was for a woman of her breeding.
He silently scoffed at that thought.
"May I?"
Was that…him?
He swallowed hard as she turned to fix him with a curious look. He had just spoken, hadn't he?
"F'course," she mumbled, shifting so that she was closer to him and holding her apron out closer to him where it cupped feed in its sturdy cotton. "Just cup a bit in thy palm—not too much, as I said."
"Aye." He nodded and stepped in, leaning down to carefully scoop some feed into his palm. "How is this?"
"Perfect. Thou art a natural."
He grinned happily up at her, not having realized how close his efforts had brought him to her. Clearing his throat, he straightened to his full height and turned to see the chickens glaring up at him with expectant, beady eyes. "Oh! Oh, pardon me. I am much too slow for thee, little chick-chick."
Sarah laughed as he sent her a wide-eyed, alarmed look, and he began to carefully scatter the feed along the ground, earning grateful, hungry little clucks and chirps.
When they finished with the chickens, they stepped out of the enclosed area, but not before Sarah checked the warm nesting area for eggs.
The goats wandered in a nearby area with a high fence and they bleated happily at seeing Sarah approach, gathering near the gate as Sarah used a key on her belt to unlock it.
Chuck held it for her as she lugged a large pail of stringy, fibrous looking grasses and vegetables into the pen. He saw a few red apples sitting luminous atop the feed.
"Good morrow, darlings," she said warmly, stroking each of their faces as they seemed to almost smile at her, as though their lives began and ended with this woman.
He understood the sentiment to his deepest core.
Sarah set the pail down and the goats closed in on it ravenously. "Ah ah!" She held up a finger. They paused, slowly raising their eyes to look at her though their long eyelashes. "Wait. Remember? I tell thee when."
They let out little grunts and stepped back obediently.
She then knelt to retrieve the apples, handing one to Chuck. "Wouldst thou like to give Henry his treat?" She rubbed the white tuft of hair on top of the goat's head and it let out a happy, "Behehehe!"
"I surely would. May I feed it to him whole?"
"Just hold it for him. He wilt make quick work of't." She nodded encouragingly.
He stooped low, petting the goat gently. He eyed Chuck with slanted eyes, as if not sure what to think of the new man in his owner's life. But when Chuck carefully held the apple out towards him, he let out an excited, "MEHEHEHEHE!" and dove in to take a giant bite, making Chuck jump.
They both laughed together as Henry the goat did exactly what his owner said he would do.
He helped her distribute their grasses in large piles in the middle of the enclosure and they watched in silence for a few minutes as the goats grazed, munching away at their breakfast.
Finally, they left the goats and found Sarah's cow grazing further away from the house, eating weeds near the beginning of the woods that were on the Walker estate.
"She likes to wander off, this one," Sarah said, affection in her voice.
"Do ye not worry she will be attacked by a predator this near the woods?" he asked, approaching the large cow behind Sarah.
Sarah laughed and shook her head. "Not Amber. When my father was still around, a lone, hungry wolf wandered onto our property and tried to attack her. I believe she gave the creature a kick so hard that the rest of the predators around our estate must have felt it. None would dare approach her now."
"She was completely unharmed?" Chuck asked, eyes wide.
"Mm, yea."
Chuck moved closer to the cow and bowed deeply to her. "My respect for thee knows no bounds, my lady…Amber, was it?"
"Yea, sir," Sarah laughed, beaming, her hand stroking the cow's back.
"My respect for thee knows no bounds, my lady Amber," he said in teasing reverence.
"Straighten up, ye fool," she giggled.
He straightened up, grinning, his nose wrinkling as he did so.
She slung a loose rope around the cow's neck and gently led her away from where she was grazing, back towards the main stretch of the estate. He followed dutifully. "I will milk her if thou wouldst prepare her hay…?" Sarah asked from the cow's other side, peering around the creature's hulking head to meet his gaze.
"Would that be where we found the hay we fed to the goats?"
"Aye."
"I will hasten for't immediately," he said with a nod, and he trotted off to do so.
He found Sarah sitting on a small wooden stool out behind her large house, skillfully milking the cow. She looked up and smiled as he dropped the bale in front of Amber and she immediately began to eat it.
"Thank ye," Sarah said, looking up at him with clear blue eyes. The fog had mostly moved on now, leaving the sky hazy and bright. Her hair was tousled from sleep, pulled back out of her face with some ribbon, but she had changed from what she'd slept in to a simple tunic tucked into a long cotton skirt, probably when he'd been caring for her horse while the tea brewed.
Chuck never claimed to be perfect, and so as he peered down at her in that moment, he thought of coming down every morning to find her dressed like this, with that fresh look on her face, the contentment of caring for the other lives on her estate beaming from every bit of her being. To have this be a part of his life would be more than a blessing. He was sure it would make him happy 'til his last breath, and beyond that if there was anything beyond that.
But he feared it would not make her happy.
And so he knelt beside her to watch. "I know from my customers watching what I do and telling me it looks easy enough, what ye are doing right now is not as easy as it seems."
Sarah giggled. "Oh, it is. But ye need to know how to do it right, or thou wilt be kicked by this otherwise sweet girl, and thou wilt deserve the kick."
He cleared his throat and nodded. And then he bit his lip, watching her work. "W-Would it be a nuisance for me to learn…today? Now?"
She sent him a surprised look. "Wouldst thou like to learn now? Do not ask because ye feel ye must, or-or out of politeness or…"
"No, no. I-I want to know. I want to learn." He tugged on his tunic nervously. "Perhaps Ellie and I will have enough to buy a cow of our own someday, and I would like to know how to…do the…" He mimicked it with his hands and she laughed at him.
"Oh, I do need to teach thee. Thou wilt certainly get thyself kicked doing that."
He blushed and laughed as well as she surged up from her stool and gestured for him to take it instead. "First of all, make sure the stool is close enough for ye to reach without strain. If ye strain, she will feel't."
He readjusted the stool just a bit further away so that his face wasn't pressed right up against the cow's side. When Sarah gave him a curious look, he shrugged. "I have long arms."
She chuckled and nodded. "I see." And then she knelt beside him, ever patient. "These two fingers." She touched his hand gently. "Get them high up on the udder, just there."
He did and she nodded again, leaning against his side, her body close as she reached over, her fingers resting on his wrist. Her face was so near his own, and he needed to focus on what she was saying so that he didn't make a complete fool of himself in front of her. But spirits, she was truly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his twenty-six years. Ever.
"Trap it here. Feel the milk under thy fingers?"
He nodded with a breathless, "Mhm."
"Squeeze here with the rest of the fingers and…" The milk spurted out into the pail. "There 'tis."
He tried with the other hand and was successful. "Ha! A-ha!" Amber turned to give him a bit of a perturbed look and he held up his hand in apology as Sarah snorted out a tittering giggle. "Too loud. Message received. Sorry."
Sending Sarah a wide-eyed look that made her giggle harder, tipping against him so that their arms were pressed together, he turned and slowly squeezed with one hand, then the other, carefully milking the cow, getting the hang of it.
"'Tis almost…soothing. Or is that strange to say?"
He felt her cheek against his bicep. "Strange, it is not. I do find it soothing. And if 'tis done correctly, Amber finds relief in't as well."
They stayed together for a little while, until Sarah stopped him, and then he scooped up the pail for her and carried it while she moved the stool and kissed the cow on her snout with a "Thank ye, sweet girl".
Chuck did not know how much longer he could linger in her realm without overstaying.
But she allowed him to wash his hands and arms in the creek, before heading into the kitchen. It seemed she was already slicing a loaf of bread, a dish of fresh butter on the table. And she had set the hot tea, two mugs of it, on either end of the table, along with two dishes.
It seemed she intended for him to eat with her this morn. And he did not wish to be rude, so he smiled and accepted the gesture as she waved a hand towards one of the chairs with a tilt of her lips, her blue eyes shining invitingly.
He sat with a grateful bow of his head, deciding perhaps he could stay just a little while longer.
}o{
Sarah Walker could not stop herself from gaping at the man who stood at the bottom of the stairs, his hand on the banister, other hand holding his knapsack string slung over his shoulder.
"… Thou art leaving?" she finally forced herself to ask, breaking the silence that sat uncomfortably between them.
Chuck had gone up after insisting on helping her clean after their morning meal. And now she had heard his footsteps on the staircase and while she wasn't quite sure what was next for them, deciding they might take it one hour at a time at this point, she hadn't expected him to have his bag with him when he came down.
"I fear I have already overstayed." She merely continued to stare at him. He shuffled his feet uncomfortably. He had tossed a vest on over the tunic he had come downstairs in, as well as a simple brown doublet. "I meant to leave last night but ye made a good point about our, erm…duties. Or-or the appearance of those…marriage duties, at least. Ahem." He tugged on his doublet, glancing down.
He was nervous and adorable. And she was confused.
It was starting to dawn on her that this man truly meant every word he'd said to her. The marriage ceremony, the kiss, the dances, the way everyone acted towards them, the fact that they were married and that this was all his now, including herself, had not changed a thing in his mind. The powerful draw of owning her, of owning her land, her property, her wealth, had not corrupted his selfless plan.
He was leaving, going back to his own home where he lived with his sister.
"I…" She swallowed thickly. What else was there to say? She didn't know how to form the words she felt in her chest. All she could manage was a quiet, "Thank you." His mouth tilted up in something of a sweet smile. "Chuck, I mean it," she added, moving in closer to him. "I recognize the sacrifice thou hast made. Words cannot express my gratitude."
Chuck bowed his head respectfully. "'Tis a decision I made. Because I had the freedom to make it. Thy situation never afforded ye that same freedom. And now ye have it."
He said it as though it was so simple. As though anyone else would have made the same decision. She knew for a fact, they would not have.
Chuck Bartowski—her handyman—was an exceptional human being.
"Thank you," she breathed again.
His hand on the door, cracking it open, he turned when she called his name again. "Chuck…?"
He raised his eyebrows, looking at her over his shoulder.
"What do we say, then…in the market…to others…?" He furrowed his brow in question. "Thou wilt live still with thy sister. They will notice."
Chuck met her gaze. "What we do is no longer anything they can influence. We are married in all ways that matter. It cannot be undone, whether we live together or not. Thou liveth exactly the way ye will. No one can tell thee how to live any longer."
She smiled at him, her chest full. "There will be much gossip."
"Well, then. Nothing has changed, has it?"
He left and she laughed lightly to herself. And still, she went to the front window and she watched him walk away through it, staring at his back until he moved down the road far enough that he disappeared from view.
}o{
He ached in places he did not know existed in his body.
Chuck stepped lightly, biting back a hum of pain as he made it to the door of his house.
One thing that hadn't been damaged in his fall from Mr. Garnet's barn roof that had needed patching after a particularly cold night had produced a bit of ice right where Chuck had put his boot? His nose.
Which was how he became aware of the unmistakable scent of fruit and sugar that had been cooked, cinnamon, a browned crust…
That was the one thing that could make this horrible pain ebb.
One of his sister's pies.
And it smelled like apple. His favorite. (He was but a simple man sometimes.)
Chuck pushed open the door and stepped inside, grinning even though he must have somehow injured his earlobes in the fall? Why were those hurting even?
"Is that apple pie?" he asked as he winced, reaching back to shut the door behind him again. "I would know that smell anyw—"
"Spirits! What hast thou done?!"
His sister had appeared in the doorway between the living room and the kitchen, already rolling her eyes at him, but she froze the moment she caught sight of Chuck. And she crashed towards him, slinging the dish towel in her hands over her shoulder, green eyes wide and hard, both.
"Do I look that bad already?"
"What. Didst. Thou. Do. To. Thyself?" she asked through gritted teeth.
"Heh. 'Tis almost…comical, really." She glared and he cleared his throat, killing the half-smile tilting at his mouth. "Or perhaps I am mistaken."
"Chuck."
"Mr. Garnet's barn roof has been leaking terribly after those few days of rain we had that week after the wedding."
He bit back the frown that threatened to show. He had only seen Sarah twice in two weeks. Both times by chance, in the market. It had tasted so sweet, strolling the stalls at her side, the way the vendors, their neighbors, had all looked at them—the way people looked at newlyweds. That sheen of envy almost, but then a glowing, sparkle-eyed look as well. It was the way people looked sometimes around love.
None of them knew yet.
He still received teasing nudges with his customers' elbows as well as an added, "And so. Wedded bliss, is it?" when all he wanted to do was finish the job, take his coin, and move on.
They meant well.
"Ah, of course," Ellie groused, hands on her hips. "And my brother climbed up onto that blustering old gardener's roof and fell right off it, did he not?"
Chuck winced. "Yea, that is the full gist."
His sister let out a moan of frustration, rolling her eyes to the ceiling of their house. "I know. I know. There are dangers that go along with the work ye do, and still, I wonder why thou refuseth to take better precaution."
"The cold snap last night put a patch of ice on the roof that I did not see! It was hidden under the hay thatched roof and—"
"Thou art lucky ye still have a straight neck and not a broken one!" she snapped. "And then where would we have been?"
Wrinkling up his face, he let his shoulders slump. "Trust me, sis. I went through all of the worst scenarios the moment I landed and found I was still alive. Mr. Garnet was very kind and did not make me finish the job. I promised to go back when I am not in…so much pain to patch the—What?" She threw her hands up as he was speaking. "I cannot neglect my customers simply because I took a fall. He needs his barn roof repaired!"
"I understand that, brother. And still. To think of ye falling again, only the next time not being quite so lucky…" She shivered theatrically.
"Aye, it-it occurred to me."
"What didst thou fall onto?"
"The ground." She gave him a flat look. "Ah. I see what thou art asking. It was pure dirt. A cloud of it came up around me when I landed in a heap of limbs."
"What part of thy body didst thou land on?" she asked slowly, her jaw hard, teeth gritted. He had a feeling she was searching for any amount of patience she had in her at the moment.
"Oh! That was what—Right. Every part. All at once. All of it." He gestured at his whole body, hissing in pain as his shoulder, all the way down to the tips of his fingers jolted with ache.
Ellie sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Spirits, Charles Irving. I imagine thou wilt have a bruise from the tips of thy toes all the way up to the curly hairs on that head of thine."
"I fear 'tis already there. Purple and blue. Black even." He frowned.
"Ye poor thing," she finally breathed, clutching his bicep comfortingly. Only it felt less like comfort and more like pain, and when he winced, she let go quickly, an apologetic look on her face. "Sorry! I am sorry. Well, first thing is first. We need to get thee in cold. Very cold."
"Very cold? Hm." Chuck pursed his lips thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes. How were his eyelids hurting? Or was it that his eyelashes were hurting? This was ridiculous. "The only ice in Pinedeep is the ice that nearly killed me on top of Mr. Garnet's barn roof. And that is surely gone as well. My boot likely knocked it off of the roof and to the ground below. Along with…well, myself."
Ellie snorted and shook her head. "Yea, then. There is no ice, nor is there snow, though we will have some within the coming months. And then of course whatever we do get will…" She paused, her jaw falling open. He recognized that look. Whenever she got an idea, her jaw fell open, her green eyes went wide, and her whole body froze. "What happens to the snow and ice up in the mountains towering over Pinedeep?"
"I-I do not know. Well, aye, I do. It melts in the sun, but—"
"Exactly! 'Tis exactly that!" she exclaimed.
"Oh, good." Wait… "W-Wait, wha?"
"The ice and the snow from those mountains melt," she said, pointing towards the North where the mountains resided. "And down it all comes, flooding into that riverbed, headed towards the sea. Still yet, Pinedeep has one creek in particular, and the coldest stretch of it is that which is furthest North. Closer to the mountains."
"Ye…want me to go sit in the creek?" he asked, furrowing his brow.
"No."
"Oh. Good. Beca—"
"I want you to rest in the creek that lies on the Walker estate."
Chuck blinked. Had he heard that right? Ellie bustled away from him and into the kitchen. He numbly followed her, watching as she picked up the pie from where she'd set it on the kitchen window ledge to cool after taking it out of the oven. "Thou wanteth me to what?!"
"The coldest part of that creek is on the Walker estate," she said, shrugging as if this was not an asinine proposal. "Her land is furthest to the North, closest to the mountains. Thus, the water run off is coldest there. We cannot obtain ice, and so, melted ice will have to do."
"Thou art mad, sis. I am not going to trespass on Sarah's estate to sit in her creek to help with my aches and pains."
"Ye will swell up and bruise everywhere. And I know for a fact, ye have other jobs lined up. Will thy customers be pleased with the postponement of the work they need done in the coming days, I wonder?" She tilted her head, stopping where she stood in the middle of the kitchen, pie in hand.
Chuck groaned. "I doubt they will be happy about it. But it cannot be helped."
"It can. That is what thy physician sister is trying to tell ye, idiot." She moved to set the pie on top of a white cloth. "Soak thy body in that creek, it will lessen swelling and stall bruising. Thou wilt still be sore for a while after thy fall, but still capable of functioning. Trust me, as bad as it feels now, it will only feel worse if ye do not heed my advice, Chuck."
"I will not trespass—"
"Then do not trespass. Tell Sarah—thy wife by the way—that ye took a bad fall during a job and thy physician's orders are to sit in a freezing body of water. She will understand."
"That is an imposition and the whole point of my doing any of this was not to impose myself on that woman."
His sister stared hard at him, then shook her head and looked away to tie the pie in the cloth. "Well, I baked my sister a pie," she said, clearly annoyed with him. "So if thou art feeling well enough not to ice thy wounds as I advised, then thou art well enough to take this to her."
Chuck's jaw fell open. "Thou art serious…"
"Yea, brother." She thrusted it towards him. "Freshly baked, just out of the oven. I am sure she will enjoy't. Thank ye."
She forced him to take it, and even holding the pie was making his shoulders and arms ache. A pie, for spirits' sake.
"Eleanor Faye Bartowski, this is beyond conniving…"
"Well, whatever it is, get it to Sarah before it goes cold, hm?"
"'Tis a dirty trick…"
She ignored him, instead reaching over to pull the kitchen window shut, latching it. "Ye might want to get a move on. Best to get in the creek before 'tis too late in the day," she practically sang.
Chuck found he had no real choice, the pie already in hand, and he shook his head, leaving the kitchen, grabbing his satchel from where he hung it beside the door to their front yard.
He decided walking would be too painful, and riding on horseback, perhaps even more painful. And so, he got the wagon ready, stroked his horse, wincing through every movement, and climbed up into the seat.
"Chuck!"
The handyman turned to see his sister step outside. "Yea, sis?"
"Please, do not feel ye have to hurry back."
Brat. And to think, she didn't even bake two pies, so that he might only smell this one and not have a single bite of it. She was truly the worst sister.
Chuck didn't respond verbally, because she didn't deserve it. Instead, he sent her a dirty look, then snapped the reins, taking off in the direction of Sarah's estate.
A/N: Next chapter will be posted when I have time to edit. Thanks for reading.
-SC