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 again everyone! Let's get the show on the road.
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.
She picked up a potato on the larger side and turned it over in her hand to check for blemishes, before looking up to meet the eye of of the seller. "Four of these?"
"Aye, lass."
"A cabbage, as well. These carrots look nice today. I shall take some." She picked up a bunch tied together with twine.
She poured more coin than was asked for into the seller's cupped hand. When he tried to hand the extra back, she wordlessly shook her head and smiled. He pulled his hand in and slipped the coin into his purse at his hip, bowing gratefully.
"Thank ye, lass. Spirits ye good den, mistress."
She cut through the middle of two stalls, but halted when she heard a familiar voice. She pulled back just slightly, slipping behind the tarp and listening.
"—would give anythin' to have four young men after my hand," the jeweler's daughter said.
"Four?" The prince who was one of those young men after her hand, after her property and her wealth more like, continued. "Dear lass, are there not three of us? Has another come into Pinedeep from afar?" Bryce chuckled. "The son of a very important lawmaker," he teased, "an alleged knight, and best of all, the Prince of Kingdom Lark." She giggled again at the flirtatious lilt to his voice. And no wonder he was flirting; Penelope the jeweler's daughter was also a young beauty, and if the Walker heiress did not exist, she would be Pinedeep's most eligible lady. As it was, Sarah had seen each of her suitor's flirt with the lass, and she wished one of them would go 'head and fall in love with Penelope and leave her alone.
"Nay, sir. There is another. He is no prince, no knight, no son of a lawmaker. And so, he has no chance. But still, it seems he hath much of nerve."
Sarah leaned in closer, even inching around the tarp to watch, hidden enough not to be seen by Bryce and Penelope. It seemed as though Penelope had piqued Bryce's interest as well.
"Well, mistress? Thou leaveth me in suspense?" he flirted.
She leaned in closer to the prince and turned her chin up towards him. "The man is new to Pinedeep hisself. He hath much interest in the fair lady Walker and her vast wealth as he hath none of his own. He only arrivéd here mere months before my prince…"
"Still, the suspense." He leaned closer still.
Sarah was fed up with the teasing and flirtation. She wanted the jeweler's daughter to spit out the name and she clenched her jaw to keep from bursting out from her hiding place and snapping at the woman to just say the damnable name.
"A certain handyman by name of Bartowski."
The ground under Sarah Walker's feet seemed to be whipped away and she only just kept her footing.
"Not the handyman who danced with the lady in question during the moon festival?" The prince let out a breathless laugh, shock in his tone. "Well, well. Have I underestimated the boy?"
"I will give him this. Just a boy he may be, but he hath…" She stopped herself coyly.
"Thou art a couth lady and will not say't. So I shall. The knave has balls."
They chuckled together.
"He hath announced his pursuit, then," Bryce said, a thoughtful look on his face once the mirth passed. "Interesting."
"Not as such. His sister the physician mentioned his intention to pursue the Walker cat, to play this game, during a visitation of one of her patients only this morn."
"And how didst thou hear of it?"
"Her patient told his wife, his wife told Mistress Giselde who told Myrna at the tavern, and once it makes rounds at the tavern…"
Sarah felt her shoulders drop. Penelope was not wrong. That was how gossip traveled through Pinedeep and more often than not, the gossip was the truth.
"What is his name? Bru…"
"Bartowski," Penelope provided.
"Ah. Yes. Charles, is it? He is a handyman?"
"That he is. And lo, he sayeth he come to Pinedeep for a new start, but methinks perchance he telleth a fib." Penelope winked at the prince. "We cannot say if the man really come for Mistress Walker of the Walker property. I hear tale he and his sis traveled far and wide, just as thou hast."
"Hm. What better reason than the bloom of Sarah Walker's beauty?"
"And a way into her suit that does not require one to be of noble blood or financial stature…"
Sarah could hear no more of it.
She pulled back, emerging in front of the vegetable seller, accepting his smile with one of her own, wavering though it was, and she continued around to the main market street, taking the long way so as not to be seen by the gossipers. She found her mare where she had left her, leaning in close to kiss her right near her eye as she rubbed her snout.
There was more she intended to buy during this trip to the market, but she did not need any of it urgently, so she would climb onto her mare and away back home.
The half hour trip gave her the time she needed to run everything she had just heard through her reeling mind.
As she rode, she thought of Penelope's sneaky intimations, that Chuck and Ellie had only come to Pinedeep because they had heard of Sarah Walker and her fortune, of the door that was open to any and all, from every walk of life, once she proposed the game of suit—catching fair maiden's cat and taking the key from its collar would grant a suitor marriage to said fair maiden. She had not said only nobles or men of great wealth might attempt the feat.
It would be simple to believe the jeweler's daughter and her intimations. 'Twas easy to believe ill of people, when so many existed who sought to swindle, beguile, manipulate for their own gain.
Sarah Walker was not typically the one to take the easy route.
She thrived on challenge, on the difficult things. It was why she'd contrived an entire training grounds to build her stamina, her skill sets, making her targets move when picking up her bow and arrow or her throwing knives.
But these were not weapons.
They were people.
Though the Bartowskis seemed to be more than simply…people. She had seen much of goodness in them both, the kind that was hard to replicate if one was deceitful.
Nay, the ache in her chest was not because she felt the handyman and his sister were trying to deceive her. She had seen them both act in generosity and kindness in the streets of Pinedeep's town proper, when neither knew she was there and watching. 'Twas not an act.
Penelope was wrong. The Bartowskis had told her enough for her to know they had been truthful about their journey to Pinedeep, that they had been forced to flee places they had meant to make their home on multiple occasions. They were in Pinedeep looking for this to be their home. They had not come here for her or her vast wealth.
It seemed, however, that the weeks since she first met Charles Bartowski the golden-eyed handyman had made the man feel that he wanted to toss his cap into the race, so to speak.
And so, now she knew, the feelings she had felt over the last few weeks, in the last week especially, were perhaps returned. He did not seem the type to pursue her hand, move for her suit, if he did not want her. That was not the Chuck who had spent weeks on her property, helping her to improve her training grounds with his own building creativity and skill sets. She had not been deceived by him; he would not deceive her.
But he respected her. That much was clear. No man had ever respected her as completely as this one, she knew. And so he was following the rules she set for suitors to win her hand in marriage. It was bold of him, a "mere" handyman, as she knew the townspeople would say about him. As though he had lesser worth as a living being than a nobleman had. To her, he was worth a great deal more. For it was mostly his heart that lifted him above others in her estimation.
Still, as unfair as it was, she felt the sting of it all.
For Chuck Bartowski had her full endorsement to pursue her in the usual way, knocking at her door, asking for the chance to begin courting her, to seat her by his side in that wagon he and his sister shared for their respective trades, and ride about the land, just the two of them, learning more about one another.
The same type of courtship her own parents had undertaken themselves thirty years past.
She was disappointed he was not stepping around the rules, disappointed he was not shirking the rules altogether and courting her proper, rather than chasing her cat about Pinedeep along with the unserious suitors with whom she would utterly dread the horrors of a marriage to them.
Again, it was unfair and she knew it was. He was merely doing what he assumed she wanted him to do. She was disappointed, still.
And part of her felt a wedge slip there, between her and the good-hearted handyman who had managed to work his way under her skin. He was one of four suitors chasing the Walker cat to obtain that key. And in so doing, he had made her feel as though she must put space where there had been little prior to her overhearing the news.
She had to be extra careful where she stepped, how she spoke, what she revealed.
The fact was, she still feared marriage.
She feared having a husband, specifically having a man in her home, to lord over her family's property, her family's coin that went back generations, and brush her aside. She did not want to lose control of her family's legacy to a man who cared not for what she wanted, how she wanted to live her life.
And she knew a man would strip her of her ability to make decisions about her family's home.
As kind as Chuck Bartowski was, as much as he clearly respected her more than others had, as genuine as he was as she confessed to him the reality of her situation, and her feelings about that situation… he was still a man, and the enticement of the money, the vast properties, and the resources said properties housed that would make him even more coin should he choose to exploit it, all were enough to turn anyone, man or woman, genuinely kind or cruel.
She wished she could have more faith. Still, Chuck would be kind if he pursued her, won her game, and they were wedded. And she much preferred him over Shaw, over Cole, over the prince called Bryce. It would certainly help that her heart raced when she saw him, her chest swelled when she heard his laughter, and when he looked at her with those eyes of his, it made it hard for her to breathe. Physical attraction, attraction to his heart and tenderness, would make him a much more suitable man than the others.
And.
She was still not sure she could trust any man.
That was the truth of it.
It hurt to realize it. And it hurt that Chuck throwing in with the others to play this game to win her hand made that realization that much stronger.
She would be more careful. She would mind her step and her words.
And she would allow herself to wish the man who had been hard to forget the last few weeks had chosen a different path, one that allowed for them to know more about one another and then pursue further steps. She had only done this to herself.
And she would regret what she had done.
Sarah Walker had a terrible feeling she would have much to regret.
}o{
A Day Prior
"'Tis in jest, surely!"
Chuck winced.
His sister gaped at him, her jaw practically in her lap. She had shifted in her desk chair to face him as he stood at the door, her last patient for the day having finally left.
He had wandered into her office where she was finishing writing a prescription, knowing he could not put this off any longer. And certainly, he needed her guidance, and frankly approval, before he moved forward with his plan.
Now she looked at him as though he had grown another head on his shoulders.
Ellie slowly climbed up from the desk to her feet, setting down the quill she had been writing with. "Dear brother, art thou completely mad?" she continued when he did not respond.
"Thou hast every reason to believe so. I…may very well be. But I have decided."
"Truly?!" She let out a rough breath, shaking her head. "You mean to pursue this silly…cat business? We have discussed this, Chuck. She contrived this game to stay free from the shackles of marriage. Her cat is intelligent, indeed. The little thing cannot be caught. Many have tried and have failed, and she hath set it up that way with clear-eyed purpose."
"And so it will be the hardest task I have set myself to, sister, and still I mean to undertake it."
"Why?"
Chuck sighed. "Thou hast seen—as I have—the sadness she bears, the struggle. She is not burdened with marriage to a controlling husband, and yet, she has weight on'er. Dost thou feel it the way I do?"
Ellie frowned. "Yea. Of course. I see it and feel it. It upsets me."
"The headache she came here with, caused by worry and stress, upset me. She only wishes to be free. And so. What if I can be that freedom?"
He supposed he had earned the flat look that got from his sister. "I s'pose 'tis on me. I know men can be full of themselves, and still, I thought my brother was above that particularly widespread trait," she drawled.
Chuck glared. "Unfair," he said, pointing at her.
"Thou truly imagines the fair lady only needeth a good man to sweep her up in his arms for her to achieve the freedom she desireth."
He deflated slightly, crossing his arms. "You misunderstand, sis."
"Then explain. I should enjoy being wrong this time."
"I do not mean to sweep her into my arms. You know me enough to know I would not pursue a woman 'less I have reason to believe she wanteth me the way I covet her." He swallowed hard. "Certainly not in wedded bliss, for true bliss would not be found there, only strife and bitterness."
"'Tis true," she said with a nod of her head. "If not to sweep her into thine arms, why dost thou wish to marry her?"
"If the fair lady is married to me, she loses her suitors, and so, her sweet little cat loses her pursuers as well. I have…grown rather fond of the creature over the months. She rescued me, remember."
"I forget it not. Thou wilst marry this woman to rid her of her suitors, because…ye have grown fond—I might add protective—of her cat?" She sent him an increasingly confused look. "What is thy plan, brother? I do not understand this gambit."
He huffed, scratching behind his ear distractedly. "This is my gambit—my-my plan." She seemed almost amused he'd used her word and he resented her for it, if only a little. "I take the key from Sarah Walker's cat, I go to her home and use that key to open the door. We…" His throat went dry. "We are wed, Sarah and I. Being a wedded woman means the pursuit is over, no more noblemen, knights, princes, bastard lawmakers' bastard sons. …And then I step away." Ellie frowned deeply, dawning sweeping through her pretty features. "I come back home. Here. And I live exactly the way I lived before, tending to my trade. And so Sarah Walker shall go back to her own existence."
Ellie stared at him quietly for a few long moments. "Thou mean'st she would live exactly the way she lived before. Freedom in tact…"
"Freedom ensured," he said emphatically. "She would not have to fear of me either. To wit, she would continue her existence in the way she saw fit, decisions of her family's property, her home, would be hers and hers alone."
His sister crossed her arms at her chest, an unhappy and thoughtful look on her face. She lifted her green eyes to meet his gaze then. "And thou would'st be all right with this?" She continued when he did not quite know how to respond. "Living in a different home from thy wife. Away from her, in spite of going through the ceremonies, in spite of being wedded? Not sharing a marriage bed?" He gave her a slightly shocked look at that and she shrugged, unmoved by his shock. "She would be bound to thee, and yet, she would do whatever she chose to do, and what she chose to do would reflect upon thee and there would be nothing to be done for't."
Chuck frowned thoughtfully. "I do not wish to control the lady. Not any lady, and surely not this one." He did not realize the look that came upon his face as his sister watched him ever closer. "To control a lady such as Sarah would be…a crime. 'Twould steal a certain light from the world, would it not? Who would wish to stifle such light? To suffocate such that she is? All that she is?"
"Would'st thou be happy?"
"She would be."
"I am asking thee about thine happiness."
"I know," he said quietly, nodding. He decided not to meet her gaze. "That, I…am not sure of. I will not lie to thee, sis."
"Hm." She made a thoughtful sound, warm though it was. "Thou careth about this woman."
"I do."
Her hands were on his arms then, squeezing, forcing him to meet her warm gaze. The corners of her lips turned up. "'Tis love. Is it not?"
He could not look away. And he could not lie. He spoke quietly. "Methinks…it must be." The smile on her face grew just so. He swallowed hard. "Is it not so that when one finds themselves in love with another, they find their own happiness within the happiness of that person? What if this is so?"
Ellie sighed heavily, tilting her head, seeking his gaze out.
"Would'st thou bet thy whole future, the rest of thy life, on't?" she asked with her usual bluntness that he appreciated more often than not.
"I would."
"Then. As much as I question thy sanity…" She squeezed his arms again as though attempting to lave the bite. "Do what feeleth right, brother. And I shall support thee." She leaned up to kiss his cheek.
"This is the maddest gambit any man hath set hisself to, is it not?" he asked breathlessly.
"'Tis. But if any man be true enough to pull it off, 'tis you, Chuck Bartowski. And thine exceptional heart."
"Thank ye?" he asked, making a dubious face, causing a titter of laughter to escape through his sister's lips.
}o{
It was dusk, the sun having sunk down behind the horizon in the distance, and Pinedeep's most skilled handyman was on his way back from his last job of the day, when he heard a sound that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.
A cat.
Not just a cat.
But the sound of a cat in distress.
A chilling prreoooowwwllllllllllchchhhtttt! cut through the peaceful quiet of the street as everyone had begun to wind down for the evening.
Chuck stopped where he had been wandering back to the path he would use to ride home, where he had left his horse tied. He spun on his heel, looking to and fro. There was nothing amiss.
"I saw her go a'this way!"
"Hie!"
He recognized those voices, and he immediately raced in the direction of said voices.
The distressed cat and two of Sarah's suitors? It could only mean one thing. They were after the poor creature, and to make a sound as such, the cat must be at some risk of being caught.
Chuck skidded to a halt at the end of an alleyway, peering around the corner to see Cole and Shaw both stooped low, their hands out, making clicking sounds with their teeth.
"Heeeere, puss puss," Cole drawled. "Come to Cole, dear thing. I shan't hurt thee."
That wasn't a given, Chuck knew, especially with Shaw having one hand on the short blade he was wearing at his hip. Perhaps Cole of Barker and Bryce of Larkin did not mean true harm to the Walker cat. But Shaw would not blink before slaying the living creature, Chuck was certain.
And so, he felt real fear prick at his heart.
Where was the cat, though?
He knew he had to think fast.
"Damn beast," Shaw snarled. "I felt the thing's fur against my fingers! If I had closed my hand around its tail, the key would be mine, even now!"
"Aye, am I glad at that!" Cole exclaimed with a laugh. "Else would I be returnéd home with naught for my troubles."
"Fie, sir. Laugh not at me!" Shaw snapped. "I have come closest! And you, that pretty little prince, and certainly not that scamp who is attempting to join our game, have not come close to touching the puss."
Cole continued to laugh. "Thy feelings are wild, sir. Breathing will suit thee better. We will find the cat now, and then, we shall see who is fast and who returneth home empty-handed."
If Chuck had anything to do with it, they both would return home empty handed.
But first, he needed to know where the cat was.
"There! I see it! Hie!"
The two men scrambled forward and Chuck watched as the black cat appeared again and raced off with them rushing after it.
Chuck ducked back through the alleyway, from whence he'd come, and he sprinted down the street, ignoring the strange look he received from the Mistress Gregson as she beat her rugs on her front porch.
He heard the yelling from the suitors on the next street over and he knew they were still at the chase. He needed to find a way to get to the cat first, and then he would think of what next to do from there.
Veering to the right, he leapt over a low wood fence halfway down the alley, landing badly, staggering into the stone wall, but just managing to keep his feet as he ran down the rest of the way, emerging out into the street and skidding to a halt on the dirt road.
As he turned rapidly, he saw the black cat barreling towards him, her green eyes wide with panic, paws little flashes of black as they beat the dirt in desperation to escape. But then it saw him and made a panicked sound, halting, before darting to the side and into yet another alley.
He followed after it with a, "Wait! Not there! No!"
He could only hope the alley went all the way through to the next street, but he knew even before he stepped into the alley that it did not.
The cat had panicked. And now she was trapped in a dead end. There was no way to go up, even as high as cats could jump, as well as they could climb.
It did not occur to him that the cat was trapped by him, that he had her cornered in a dead end. That if he moved fast enough, with a sure enough grip, the key would be his, and his plan might come to fruition.
Instead, he wracked his brain to find a way to get her out of this bind.
Chuck spun to look out of the alleyway. The woods were behind the buildings across the road. An idea sprang to mind and he turned back, moving closer to the cat. She pressed herself against the wall, hissing, terrifying. He knelt in front of her, holding his hands up.
"Fear me not. I mean to help." He knew he ran the risk of being scratched to the edge of his life for this, but he whipped off his jacket. She hissed harder, her black fur standing up, her tail bushy.
"Didst thou see it?!" he heard Cole yell. They were getting closer.
"I beg of thee, do not kill me," he muttered, tossing his jacket over the cat. It made a loud distressed sound and he darted back down the alleyway with a, "Stay hidden!" hissed over his shoulder.
Rushing into the road again, he saw the two men scurry around the corner. He hurried to meet them.
A dark look was on Shaw's face as he spotted the young handyman, someone who was now a rival on equal footing, thanks to Sarah Walker deciding not to constrict the game to men with noble blood or wealth.
Chuck knew he would have to mostly appeal to Cole from Barker.
"Friends!" he gasped out. "Thou art looking for the elusive cat? I almost had her!" He mimicked reaching out to grab at the air.
"Didst thou?!" Cole asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Chuck huffed and puffed. "Yea, sir! I chased her in this direction, came from there!" He pointed behind him. "Hie, she hastened into the woods! I am headed there myself!"
"The woods?" Cole asked.
"He lies," Shaw said through clenched teeth. "Thou wanteth the key for thyself." He stepped up to Chuck's face, nose to nose. "The fair lady is worth more than the dirt under thy fingernails, scamp," he hissed. "Dost thou believe ye deserve the love of a woman such as—"
"Fie, shut up, man!" Cole snapped, grabbing the other man and yanking him back away from Chuck. "If the cat has gone to the woods, then we shall follow! Three men shall find her easier than one."
Cole began to run to the space between the two homes towards the woods. Chuck turned to follow, but before he could, Shaw kicked at his knee, knocking him to the dirt. With a snicker, the man kicked his boot into Chuck's gut, forcing him to curl into a ball, and then he dashed after the knight, yelling, "Best of luck, ye bastard!" over his shoulder.
Chuck let out a quiet cough, flopping onto his back in the dirt, arms and legs akimbo. And then he finally pushed himself up to sit, leaning back against the wall beside the alleyway. He looked towards the woods see the men had already disappeared into the trees, out of sight.
He heard a shuffle of fur, little paws on dirt, and then a round face peeked around the corner of the alley. Chuck melted back against the wall, letting out a hard breath.
When she stepped out a bit further, moving on her tiptoes, her fur standing up on her back, he held his hands up again, moving to the end of the alleyway and wildly waving his arms. "Hie, my little friend! Hasten home!" She stared at him. "Quick, before they discover my ruse!" He shooed her with a, "Psst psstt! Psstt!"
The cat leapt over his legs and began to dash down the road. But then it stopped and turned to look at him for a long moment. Chuck did not know what was going through the creature's brain, he could not see anything in her cute furry face save the flash of moonlight in her eyes.
"Go! Now!" He shooed his hand at her again, slowly clambering up to his feet, using the wall. Thankfully, Shaw had missed his ribs, but that kick had not felt good.
The cat disappeared.
He slowly hobbled his way back to his horse, feeling worse than the kick to his gut, a certain pain in his chest, and not quite knowing why.
A/N: Thanks for reading, folks! This will continue soon. Have a great weekend in the meantime! And if you can spare a few moments to review, I'd really appreciate it.
-SC