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: Thanks to everyone still reading! I'm trying to post as constantly as I can! Appreciate the reviews and PMs!
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.
They walked arm in arm through the market, his sister springing away from him but also sometimes dragging him along to look at interesting baubles and jewelry. It wasn't anything she could afford yet, not with how charitable she was being with her time and skill sets. It turned out, she was being asked to wait for payment just as much as he was.
Indeed, he was eventually collecting payments, and still, it meant doubling back to visit the person again to collect it, which was wasted time and energy he could be spending on other jobs. Or…wandering to Sarah Walker's property, knocking on her door, sipping coffee with her at her table, and walking the path side by side out to where her training grounds were. That was not a waste of his time or his efforts. Not a bit.
Especially since just yesterday, she praised his improvement with her training rapier after only three sessions now. She'd had to act fast at one point to knock the thing away from her, her eyes going wide, and she'd sent him an impressed glance with a warm and sincere, "Good work, handyman."
It still filled him with a great many things—all good—to think of the look on her face, the way her voice had sounded. Had she been proud of him? He hoped so.
Ellie gasped and grabbed at his arm as they wandered out of the main marketplace after an hour of shopping for their necessities. She pointed with her other hand. "And there's our little friend!"
He smiled as he followed her point and spotted the little black cat daintily licking its paw and pushing it over its ear. "Ah. So it is."
They moved closer as one and the cat quickly looked up, probably having spotted their movement. They both stilled.
"Sorry," Ellie breathed, holding up an apologetic hand. "We did not mean to startle thee, little fur-covered friend. We only wishéd to say good morning."
It stared up at them but didn't budge.
And then it wandered just a little closer, meowing and purring.
"Is it too much to wonder if perhaps this sweet creature…liketh us?" Ellie asked.
"She must. Or at least, she is not as threatened by us as she is by others."
"She disliketh us less than she disliketh others, ye mean," his sister drawled in amusement. She let go of him and knelt down. "I think thou art the prettiest cat there is. No markings. Just black as night. Thou art beauteous, fur friend," she gushed at the cat.
The cat continued to purr and still, she kept her distance. Chuck didn't blame her one bit with how often the poor thing was probably chased, everyone attempting to capture her when she was merely trying to walk about her own town.
"'Tis a shame thou art allergic to cat fur…"
"Indeed," he groused.
"..If this cat keepeth showing her face to thee, following thee about, rescuing thee from bastard curs like Shaw, perchance at some point she might let thee get close." Ellie paused as he sent her a warning look. "Close enough to take that key for thyself…"
Chuck frowned. "No."
She sighed. "And why should my brother not have it over those moldy warts chasing after her wealth and vast property?" He quietly shook his head as she slid her hand into his and squeezed. "Brother, we have run from township to township, crossing provinces, never having a proper home, anything we have tried to build verily burnéd to the ground. Still, neither of us have found our feet here in Pinedeep; ye and I know it, both." That was true. He could not dispute it. "If thou were to marry Sarah Walker, it would be more than simply never having to worry where next shall we get a meal, or never having to fix another rusty smith wheel or well pump handle, Chuck. It might be a chance for thee…to have a home. We might actually settle here. And does that not sound nice?"
He hung his head, shoulders slumping. "I would rather fix another hundred rusty wheels and well pumps than ensnare a woman who wanteth me not. Or, as the case seems to be, who wanteth…anyone not. She deserves the life she desires, with real freedom there for her to grasp onto. It matters not whether she is wealthy or otherwise. People deserve to pick their own paths."
"Yea, brother. That does not mean that everyone is allowed to pick their own path," Ellie said glumly. "Thou dost not think she would be happier saddled with thee, a good man who respects her greatly, rather than some prince from another land who only comes for her wealth and whatever the priceless resource is on her property? Thou would not dig holes all over her land looking for't."
Chuck clicked his teeth a little at the cat, smiling at her warmly as she stood up and stretched. "It seems to me she would not be happy being saddled with anyone."
The cat hopped off, leaping up onto a crate, then using a window sill to climb up onto the roof of the tailor's shop, disappearing from view.
"Well, so. You are determinéd to be a commendable gent." He chuckled at that, and they continued on their way, his sister holding his arm with both of her hands. "I am proud of thee." She winced. "I should not have suggested such a thing. She is my friend."
"A worthy friend indeed." He found he was speaking from experience.
"Though it seems thou hast spent more time with mine friend than I have. Hmm."
Chuck rolled his eyes and let out an amused sniff. He would not play Ellie's games with her in this moment. He was not in the mood, as much as he was dwelling on Sarah Walker now that his sister had brought up her cat and the key to her home hanging about its neck.
He would be lying to anyone who asked, and most especially to himself if he denied his feelings for the Walker heiress. He was only human, a man at that, and Sarah Walker was easily the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in the entirety of his life. Her beauty was worth traveling through woods, deserts, all the seas in the world to see it, there was no doubt of that. Not in his estimation.
But she boasted so much warmth and kindness, as well. And not just with him when they were out on her training grounds, Sarah walking him through rapier tactics or archery, or even when she sat with him as he worked, talking to him, learning more about him, his journeys, his life, while she seemed to shut her own life's tale—most of it anyway—up inside of herself like a treasure chest full of stories. But he'd seen her kindness with children in the marketplace, at the festival. The most innocent and hopeful citizens of Pinedeep.
And while her beauty and kindness were all well and good, he might at least admit to himself that neither of those things made his blood rush hot the way her strength did—both in character and in body. The way she knew her own mind, knew what she wanted, and found ways to get it; the trick with her cat to keep men away from her door was truly bizarre and also ingenious. And then there was her skill with a bow and arrow, her skills with knives and with swords. He had also come upon her training with a long stick—he knew not what it was even called—swinging it to and fro, leaping through the air with it, slamming it down on the ground. He would never tell another soul about how he had snuck off to the creek beside her home, scooped water into his palm, and splashed it onto the back of his neck.
So he would be honest, at least in his own heart.
Being the husband of a woman such as that would be more than a mere dream. And dream he would. He had. Lying awake, thinking of her, thinking of what it would be to live in that house, to see her every day and not just across a marketplace, to sit across the table from her for every meal and not just a mug of mid-morning coffee before he headed out to continue making mechanical improvements to her training equipment. He had even let himself imagine the joy of falling asleep beside her at night and waking up beside her again the next morning.
It hurt him every time, and he could not stop himself from imagining it anyway.
Because it would never be.
And still.
Was there a way to ensure her freedom? Was there a way to keep unwanted men away from her door, to keep them from traveling the land to seek her suit? Was there a way to protect her cat from what amounted to marauders practically chasing after the poor thing to get that key she wore on her collar in hand?
He liked the little creature greatly. He was even in her debt. And he found he was protective of her, as well.
And so, an idea was hatched in that moment, one that he knew had great risk. Would it be worth the risk? He did not know. And he would not stop thinking it through, dwelling, stressing for the rest of the day, nor would he sleep a single wink once he crawled into his bed that night.
}o{
Sarah grunted as she eased herself off of her horse and ambled up to the door, knocking.
Was this the one? Or was it the one next to this one? Did they have a sign over the door?
She realized too late that she had picked the wrong door when it opened to reveal a tall, curly-haired young man with golden brown eyes, shock in his handsome features.
"Sarah… Oh, did-didst thou need me to...?" But he stopped midway through his sentence, concern in his face. "Ist thou well?"
Sarah was sure her face was contorted, her eyes squinting. Only, she had a pain in her head that had not eased all day, and lying prostate on her bed hadn't made it go away. "I have…this…horrible ache in mine head."
"Oh. Oh, no." He opened the door even wider and stepped outside with her, his hand gentle as it cupped her elbow, an attempt to support her perhaps. "I am sorry. Thou came for my sister."
"Yea, sir. She is not in…" she guessed, because he seemed to have regret in his eyes then. "I shall come back anoth—"
"Nay, my lady. Please. I will not have thee climbing back onto that horse to hasten back home again when thou art in this much pain."
"Thou can tell…"
"I can." This was highly embarrassing, she decided. But her head hurt bad enough that she didn't pull away or ask any questions when he used his grip on her elbow to walk her to the building where his sister practiced her medicine. "She will be back anon. But I shall take thee inside where 'tis darker than out here in the sun's harsh light. I insist thou waiteth here for her."
"I would not want to be a burden—"
"A burden?" He sent her a look. "A burden, thou art not. Come." He unlocked and pushed open the door, walking her inside and shutting it behind them again. He made her crawl down onto a settee in the sitting room off to the side from the entryway. "Ellie had me construct this room for patients waiting for her—whether she has a patient with her in the exam room, or she is away on a call. Thou wilt be comfortable here 'til she comes."
Sarah watched as he hastened between the two windows to pull the heavy draperies over them, blocking out the excess light. Bless him, her head already felt a little better without the sunlight glaring into her sensitive blue eyes.
"Thank you, sir," she breathed, draping herself over the settee.
"Please, do not thank me. Where is thy head feeling pain?" he asked then, and suddenly he was kneeling beside her, his face close.
She sighed. Then she pinched the bridge of her nose. "Here. Deep behind mine eyes."
"'Tis a dull ache? Or sharp pain?"
"Sharp. Not constant. Like…some fiend is driving a knife there between my eyes, over and over."
He hissed in sympathy. "It soundeth unpleasant." She opened her eyes a bit more to glare and he winced. "Sorry. I fear I do not have my sister's bedside manner."
Sarah let out a soft, one syllable giggle in spite of herself.
"Rest for now, my lady. 'Tis dark here. Hm…" She watched, the pain still swinging in and out, as he nervously hastened about the room, making sure the draperies were covering the window as much as possible, tying them in place. "I shall return anon. I will get thee a cool cloth for thy forehead."
And he disappeared out of the room, shutting the door, and again it seemed to keep out the light.
Within a minute or two, he pushed back in, a small bowl in hand with a white cloth hanging over the edge of it. "Hark, some fresh cool water from the well. I…wish I knew the poultice Ellie uses for aches in the head. But I fear I would use the wrong one."
She smiled weakly, accepting the damp, cold cloth and laying it over her forehead. That alone did so much to ease the pain and she sighed in relief. "Fie, no. Please, spare me the wrong poultice. I balk at sporting another nose grown on my forehead."
Chuck laughed and she settled more comfortably against the settee, a spark of pleasure at making him laugh causing her small smile to grow just slightly.
For a moment, she let herself forget the reason why she was here in the first place.
"I shall leave you to rest in peace until Ellie returns and can use her expertise to properly treat you for this headache."
Sarah peeked up at him. "Thou hast done plenty to help relieve this headache."
He looked adorably pleased at that. "I am glad." Then he bowed his head to her respectfully and went to the door. "I shall send Ellie straight in the moment she arrives."
"Please do not tell thy sister I am here the moment she arriveth. Let her rest first."
"Ellie? Heh. She will murder me in my sleep if I do not tell her the moment she walketh through that door."
She was still laughing as he left her alone in the room to rest.
Still, as she lay prone on the settee, the cool cloth making everything feel better somehow, she smelled something. Her senses were stronger somehow. Was it the pain? Were her nerves in her head connected to the ones in her nose?
Within ten minutes, she heard a light knock on the door, and then it popped open. She turned, lifting the cloth from where she shifted it down a little over her eyes. It was Chuck again, an unsure look on his face. "I madeth thou some clove tea. Ellie sweareth by it. She hath been prone to headaches every so often. Stress is the culprit, usually."
She felt a smile pulling at her lips. "Now, is Ellie the physician or ist thou?"
His cheeks went pink. "I am only doing what I know will make thee comfortable while we wait for her to come back."
"I am grateful," she said simply. "Thou art kind."
He smiled back, bringing in the large mug and shifting a wooden stool closer to her. She thought he might sit on it, and she silently cursed herself for how startlingly badly she had wanted him to sit on it and stay. Instead, he set the mug on it, then knelt down beside her to pick up the bowl of water she had forgotten about. "Let me make the cloth cold again."
She did allow it, reveling in his tenderness, the way he picked the cloth up off of her head gingerly, dunked it into the water a few times, wrung it out, folded it, and laid it back over her forehead again. "Mmmm. I thank ye. 'Tis relief, certainly."
"Good. Wouldst thou try the tea?"
Sarah gave him a wide-eyed look, even with the pain between said wide eyes, as he slipped his arm around her upper back to help her sit up against the pillows better. Besides the dance they had shared that night at the festival, no one had touched her as such, and before the dance, since the dance, her contact with others had been sparse…near nonexistent. And maybe all of her nerves were affected by those in her head because his arm at her back, his large hand wrapped securely about her opposite arm sent a strange tingling sensation through her. Buzzing.
And then he slipped his arm out from between her back and the pillows, and her clove tea was at his lips. She was not sure why until he gently blew on it, the steam billowing up from the liquid's surface. Her heart jolted in her chest as she watched, and he finally passed it to her.
There was no way to keep her fingers from brushing his as she took it, cupping the mug in both hands and pulling it in to carefully take a few sips, trying her best not to slurp it rudely.
But it tasted good, and it felt even better going down her throat.
"Strong enough?" he asked. She nodded. "Too strong?" She smirked and shook her head 'no' this time. "Good. I will leave thee to rest 'til my—" There was a thump then, the squeaking of the door in the other room as it opened and shut again.
"Chuck?"
He glanced up. "Ah. She is come. I'll bring her forthwith."
She smiled at him as he left her with the cloth still propped on her head, tea in hand.
She heard the conversation at the front of the house.
"There he is!" Eleanor Bartowski exclaimed. "I pulled up with the wagon and noticed, what is this extra horse tied out—What? Why ist thou gesturing like an idio—Oh. Ahem. A patient?"
"Sarah Walker arrived not an hour ago. Ache of the head."
"Oh…Oh, no! Poor dear…"
"I took her to lie in the dark with a cool cloth and I made her clove tea, like ye do when thou hast headaches."
"That is well done, brother. Thank ye. I will see to her at once."
Sarah genuinely wished the incredibly hardworking woman might at least rest herself for a few minutes before rushing in to tend to her headache, but it was not to be; Eleanor burst into the room, untying her cloak still, worry in her face as she rushed to Sarah's side.
"Sarah. My brother tells me of thine headaches. Didst thou do anything differently to bring it on?" Eleanor's hand immediately picked hers up and held it kindly, comfortingly. "Keep sipping the clove tea, not so fast…slowly and steadily."
"Nothing new, nothing different."
"Hm." The physician let go of her hand and rolled up the sleeves of her blouse, standing to her full height again and hurrying over to a counter, popping open cupboards, taking things out. "Where hast thou this pain? And what does it feel like?"
Sarah showed her, told her about the stabbing sensation, same as she told Chuck.
"Mm. Mhm. I see." She began to mix something with a stone mortar and pestle, grinding it with her strength. "Sounds like something I have been known to suffer from once every so often. Pain just in that same spot, a sort of stabbing pain."
"And so? What is it? Will I survive?" she teased.
"Oh, ye will," Eleanor giggled. "'Tis just a headache, my lady. Naught more than that. But I do believe it was brought on by stress. Hast thou done anything different that might cause stress?"
"No, n-not that I—" She paused. "There are three suitors I did not beckon to me or my town, and they are currently marauding through Pinedeep to try to catch my beautiful cat and thus win my hand in marriage," she said weakly. "'Tis tying me up in knots, for fear one of them catches her on some fateful day."
"Ah."
The physician turned, and Sarah felt grateful to the other woman for not wearing pity on her face. "Dost thou think these new men in Pinedeep have sharp enough wits about them?" Sarah sent her a questioning look. "Ah. I see the question on thy face, sweet Sarah. Reading thy silent question, I answer thusly: I do not think these knights, princes, and the scathing son of a bastard lawmaker hisself have sharp enough wits to catch that cat."
Sarah found herself chuckling, and she sipped her tea, swallowing, grateful for its heat, the bite of the cloves on her tastebuds. And she felt the pain soothing just so. "I hope they fail in their task…and yet."
"And yet," Eleanor said with a nod of her head, coming back to Sarah's side and sitting on a stool, pulling it closer. "There is always the possibility, and then…thou wilt be trapped."
"Yea, Eleanor."
"Ellie." The young physician smiled affectionately. "Please. My friends call me Ellie. I should like for thee to call it me as well."
Sarah smiled harder at the other woman. "I shall. Ellie."
"Good." Ellie had another rag in her hands then, and she shifted the less cool rag from where she had it draped over her forehead before replacing it with another that felt cool against her skin, but she thought it being cold wasn't the point this time. She smelled something else on it, something sweet and almost tangy. "I have a medicine I douse the cloth in, the ingredients interact with the nerves under thy skin, stimulate them. I believe it distracts them, forces them to do something else besides causing thee pain."
Sarah shifted to lie back a bit better. "'Tis already working, methinks," she mumbled.
"Then it must be about stress, Sarah. If thou were ill, it would not work as well. The scent has a calming component, and calm is the opposite of stress." She laid her hand on Sarah's wrist and squeezed. "I am sorry thou art dealing with this. These men coming from all over the known map, seeking thy hand in marriage, chasing thy cat all over Pinedeep… But may'st I ask a question? I fear offending thee."
Sarah peeked at her around the soothing cloth. "Fear not, my friend. It takes much to offend me."
Ellie squirmed in discomfort. "Dost thou think this game with thy cat wearing thy key around her collar has opened the door for thee to be entrapped in a way you might not have been letting men court thee at thy home?"
The younger woman smiled, her eyes drifting shut again. She felt better. She thought about her friend's question, but it wasn't the first time the thought had entered her mind. "Hmm. I knew there was risk. But then I have been pursued for more than ten years by men such as these. I have learnéd much in that time. I suppose I am putting much faith in the cat, but I am also putting much faith in the egos of men. Specifically those men who would travel ages to seek mine hand."
"Egos?" Ellie asked, a hint of amusement there.
Sarah affected a deeper tone to her voice. "Thou meaneth all I must do is capture a puss? 'Tis nothing. I will go seek her hand and win her properties and everything that brings with't."
She heard Ellie giggle. "I see thy meaning. Thou art relying on these men to expect their task will be an easy one."
"Aye," she mumbled. "She is not easily fooled, that one."
"Yea, she has a brilliant little mind, that cat. I have seen it."
Sarah pulled the cloth lower over her eyes and sighed in relief. It felt like it was working. "Thou hast seen her out and about, then?"
"Yea, indeed. Slinking about. She has much of understanding in those eyes. I talk to her and 'tis as though she knows what I am saying."
"Surely she does." She sighed. "'Tis why I must trust her."
"With thy freedom."
"Yea, and still, these men are particularly…" She paused. "Determined."
"They are adamant thou belongeth to them," Ellie said in a flat voice.
"'Tis much truth in what thou sayeth."
"Well, no matter what, 'tis important not to let it affect thine health. The worrying mind is an effective harbinger of illness." Ellie picked up her hand and began to massage it. "This will help. Applying pressure here."
Sarah rolled her shoulders a bit and sighed, letting herself rest. "I thank ye for this care. And…" She paused, forcing her lips not to turn up the way they seemed automatically primed to do when she thought of him, spoke of him. "And I thank thy brother, as well."
"I have trained that man well," Ellie giggled. "Though he usually leads my patients into this room and leaves it at that. Seems Sarah Walker incited extra care from him."
Sarah had to work harder to keep the smile from showing. "He is kind."
"'Tis always been his mien."
The young heiress did not doubt that. She imagined him as a kind child, and she imagined he had only become kinder under the tutelage of a sister such as Eleanor Bartowski.
The conversation lulled and Sarah found comfort in the other woman's attendance, and soon, the pain ebbed, replaced by a strange sense of belonging.
}o{
"Thou art lost in thoughts."
Chuck watched as the horse moved down the path, back toward the residence of Sarah Walker, the woman herself riding on the beast's back. She refused to impose any longer the moment her headache had faded—her words—and she handed Ellie coin for her treatment (more than his sister asked for, which seemed to be her habit) before hopping up onto her horse and leaving.
But not before thanking him for caring for her before his sister, the actual physician, arrived home after going out on a house call. She had touched him, just a light brush of her fingers on his wrist.
Only now he still felt the ghost of her fingertips against his skin there.
He curled his fingers around his wrist and watched her go until his sister cleared her throat. "Didst thou hear thy sister?"
Chuck jolted back to life and turned to face her. "Yea, I am glad her head is feeling better."
Ellie rolled her eyes and smirked at him. "She is a more than capable woman and she shan't have any problem riding the ten minutes back to her own home, Chuck. Do not worry thyself."
"No, 'tis not that."
She shifted her weight, setting the now clean bowls back up in the cupboard, moving in closer to him. "Then what, might I ask?"
"The symptoms Sarah described sounded very much like the headaches I remember thee having when thou overworked thyself. Every time the townships started to turn on us, just before we had to flee." He frowned deeply, leaning against the wall beside the window. "Has she many stresses in her life?"
Ellie pursed her lips, and then she pulled them back between her teeth. "I cannot tell thee all we spoke of, Chuck. Not just as her physician, but as her friend. She told it me in confidence, and I do not wish to break it. Please understand."
"I do," he said, nodding. "Of course thou would not break her confidence, both as her physician and as her friend."
"And?"
He looked at her with question.
"There is something else thou wouldst like to say about this? About Sarah?"
Chuck nibbled on his lip thoughtfully, because Ellie wouldn't tell him what she thought caused Sarah's headache, or what the two women had spoken of locked away in that room together. He had heard low voices through the door as he sat in the next room over, but he hadn't been able to make out the words, as much as he'd wanted to know what they were saying. Be that as it may, he knew firsthand what had happened to Ellie in those times when her stress over their future, over their present got to be too much for her body. The pain between her eyes, the stabbing ache.
And he knew Sarah wanted to be free. He knew she was tired of men closing in ranks, harassing her for her land, trying to force her into marriage, and when she set up a barrier she thought might last for a while, more suitors came than ever before, likely feeling bold and confident enough to do so once they realized all they had to do was catch her silly little cat.
Surely, the cat was little but never silly. And it wasn't nearly as easy to catch as those men thought.
Still, he was certain Sarah worried, and she must worry quite often about whether some tyrannical brute would catch her cat, steal the key and kick in her door, saddling her with the most horrendous husband she could possibly imagine, worse than anything a horrid nightmare might conjure up.
That worry could easily have turned into a headache.
And now he was worried. About her, mainly.
"She will be all right, sweet brother." Ellie put her hand on his arm, squeezing it reassuringly.
Only he wasn't sure the young heiress would be all right.
And he didn't find even a single hour of sleep that night, tossing and turning, the blond-haired, blue-eyed archer, knife-thrower, sword-fighter plaguing his thoughts worse than anything had ever before.
His idea grew more solid, more formed, and he grew more and more resolute. Sleep-deprived…but resolute.
A/N: What's this boy planning? Lemme know what you think in your review!
Thanks for reading!
-SC