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: Thank you still! Hope you continue to enjoy reading this little ditty. I appreciate your kind words, everyone!

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.

"Stop fidgeting!"

Chuck sent his sister a dark look. "And what shall I do instead? I feel as though I am being strangled to death by a giant snake." He made a dramatic choking sound and tugged at the high-neck collar that crawled up to end where his jaw began.

"This is the style in Pinedeep, brother."

"Men in Pinedeep must have learned how not to use their throats, sister."

Ellie sent him an equally dark look, though she also seemed amused. "I think thou art very handsome in this doublet. Thou looketh as a prince in this shade of purple, Chuck."

At Ellie's request, Sarah had used her pull to send out for purple material and the Pinedeep tailor, while professing he had never worked with such fine material, had created the dark purple doublet within days of the request.

"These sweet little buttons…" She poked at one and it wiggled comically on his chest.

"Stop that," he snapped, pushing her hand away as she giggled at him.

"'Tis missing golden filagree patterns along the lapels, but beggars will never be choosers."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "Sarah was very kind to send out for this material for the doublet and pay the tailor for it as well, simply because thou wished it so."

"Hmm. Yea, sir, she is a kind woman. And she hath wit a'plenty, exceptional breeeeding, and—ow! How dareth thee!" She laughed hard and moved away from him, rubbing her arm where he'd pinched her.

"Art thou in some type of mood this afternoon, sis? Exceptional breeding…honestly."

"Is it not how the townsfolk describe the illustrious Sarah Walker?"

"She is thy friend, Ellie. Thou knoweth her to be far more exceptional than simply being of 'good breeding'." He made a frustrated sound in his throat, as best he could with the way the doublet collar constricted him. "As though she be naught but a horse."

"I was mocking the practice, and thou know'st it." She pinched him back.

"Ah! Ha!" He poked at his arm where she had pinched him. "I felt nothing! This doublet shall serve to protect me should anyone deem it necessary to assassinate the bethrothed of the Walker fortune! Nary a sword shall pierce the purple!"

She gave his shoulder a shove. "Do not jest about such things. All three of thy suitor opponents have seen to it to scamper away from this place now that their prey is no longer theirs to claim."

"Not all." He held up a finger. "Our comely prince still remaineth. Strange, as the others left weeks ago."

"Hm, yea, the moment they learnéd of thou besting them." She snickered.

Chuck smirked. "Thou seemeth to get much amusement from't."

"Aye. And?" she challenged. "They were brutes, treating our fair Sarah as though she were a slab of mutton." She must have seen something then, for she turned to face the window and a bright smile lit across her face. "Ah, hello, pretty pretty."

Chuck turned, smiling himself as he saw the black cat gracefully crawl down to lay across the pane of the open window. "Are we to be blessed with her presence on this fine afternoon, Ellie?"

"Seems so." She smiled harder. "Perhaps the wedding preparations at the Walker household are awaking such boredom she could bare it no longer. Have I got it right, friend?"

"Mrrreeowwww..."

Chuck shrugged out of his sister's fussing with buttons and sleeves on the damnable thing and he instead turned to the black cat. "What dost thou think, my shadow-inhabiting friend? Ellie hath said this purple maketh me look handsome. Yea? Nay?"

The cat merely stared at the doublet, and then it blinked.

"One blink. I do believe that is an indication she hateth it. And if she hateth it, what shall her owner think? Woe is me, I shall look a jester on mine own wedding day."

"Thou art a fool. One blink means nothing save that her eyes were dry." Ellie shifted the material of the doublet then and gestured to his trousers. "And what of these? How now? The fit, 'tis well?"

"Bit tight. Here." He gestured to the crotch area.

Ellie rolled her eyes. "Thou art making crude jokes now, of all times?"

He threw his hands up and rolled his eyes as well, blushing. "I was making a crude joke not, sis!" he snapped. "'Tis truly a bit tight here at the front!"

"Fine. I shall take it to the tailor again tomorrow."

"I am perfectly capable of taking my own wedding pants to the tailor, Ellie."

"Hm. Wait here. I shall get the boots."

"Ah, the boots. Does this joy I feel truly have no end?"

She glared as she left the room.

He turned to the cat and pulled up a stool, sitting near her. He felt the pull in the crotch of the pants and made an uncomfortable face. "These truly are too tight." The cat licked its paw, pushing it over its ear nonchalantly. He sighed. "When I was a boy, I had the sort of imagination that transcended my station in life. Truth be told, that might have been what got me into trouble more often than not." He snorted. "And for as colorful as mine imagination could be, I never quite imagined I would be wedded in such fashion…or to…such a woman. Granted, the situation is…irregular, to say the least."

He heard Ellie stroll back into the room. "Heh. Irregular, indeed. The day after my brother is wedded, he comes back home to me, living in his same room as always, leaving his boots all over the house save for where they should go."

Chuck narrowed his eyes at her. "I leave my boots where I enter the house, whether it be the kitchen door, the side door, or the front door. Thou sweareth I throw them onto thy favorite chair when I come home from a job." He squirmed then. "Though I am…aware of the main thrust of what ye said. It…is irregular. But I made a pact with my betrothed. And I mean to keep it or die."

Ellie groaned. "Thou art so dramatic. Sometimes I swear thou thinketh thee in some play, the hero, drowning in righteous honor and besotted with the fair damsel."

The handyman curled his lip at his sister. "Sarah is not a damsel. …and I am not besotted. How darest thee?" He waved a hand through the air. "Make me sound pathetic. Nothing about what I aim to do for Sarah Walker is pathetic."

His sister dropped the teasing, smiling warmly at him, and then she crossed the room to put the boots down in front of him. As she straightened up, she ruffled his curls. "Nay, sweet brother. Thou art the very furthest thing from pathetic. 'Tis a great sacrifice thou art making for my dearest friend. Well, dearest friend…aside from thee." She tugged on a curl affectionately. He smiled back up at her. "Will ye answer me something?"

"Anything." Though he was slightly fretting over what it might be.

She sighed. "Thou art sure this is what ye want? Honesty, Chuck. I will not pressure thee in any direction, only I should like to know…if thou art sure. In…a few years, some fair maiden comes through Pinedeep and ye fall in love with her…what then? Thou wilt be married already. Entrapped in a marriage because thou chose to do someone very deserving of thy kindness the greatest kindness there is."

Chuck shook his head, because he was certain, and if she had asked, he wouldn't know how to answer why he was so certain, or the how of it. "No maiden traveling through Pinedeep will find love from me. In ten years or in twenty."

His sister watched him closely, and Chuck knew beyond all doubt that she saw something in his face. Her smile softened, her green eyes sparkling. "Hm. I see. And so." She paused. "Thou hath answered my question far better than I could have hoped."

Tilting his head in question, he was cut off from voicing his curiosity when the cat meowed again, crawled up to her four legs, stretched with a yawn, and hopped off of the windowsill to trot away again.

Chuck lifted a hand to wave but she was gone already.

"She keeps coming by to see us, hm?"

"She does."

Ellie smirked. "I think one day, we shall be much more grateful to that little cat than any of us could possibly know at this point."

"What?"

"Nothing. Put the boots on."

He groaned and shook his head, grabbing the black leather knee-high boot with the small heel and tugging it on. "The heels are a bit much, dost thou think not? I am already going to be the tallest person at the ceremony."

"Good. Let the men in Pinedeep seethe to death with envy."

He laughed and shook his head.

}o{

She couldn't sleep.

Sometimes when she couldn't sleep, she left her bed behind, wandered out onto the grounds of the Walker estate, and strolled around in the early morning, picking her way through the fog.

This was the last time she would do this as Sarah Walker.

In mere hours, she would be a Bartowski instead of a Walker.

When Jack and Emma Walker were only able to have one child, and that child was a daughter instead of a son, the question of the Walker legacy and whether it would continue to exist, whether the estate, the grounds, the wealth would stay in the hands of the Walkers was already answered.

Either it passed to Pinedeep courts with the death of the last Walker when Sarah left this world, or it was passed to whatever child (or children) she had with some man of nobility or royalty or high breeding, none of which would be Walkers. At least not by name.

Later today, Walker would be no more.

As for the name Bartowski?

Over three weeks ago, when she and Chuck announced their marriage to Pinedeep, the news traveling fast into other kingdoms, through towns and provinces, stifling the flow of potential suitors planning to seek Sarah Walker's hand, it had set many questions in motion.

None were pushed by Sarah herself.

But everyone was asking.

Who was Charles Bartowski? Who was Eleanor Bartowski? Where had they come from? What was their lineage?

Did they have any?

The Pinedeep notary, Mister Titus Gregorous, had pulled Sarah to the side and informed her she would be marrying into a name with no link to landed gentry, nobility, royalty, knighthood, or anything else that would mean a good connection for the Walker legacy. There was nothing about Bartowskis in his books, in his records. There were no Bartowskis with wealth.

She was marrying a man with nothing save for a sister who also had nothing.

She would become Sarah Bartowski, which would have no real meaning. People with land wealth married into nobility, and nobility would gain wealth, while the landed gentry would gain the prestige of nobility.

That was how things flowed, how they must flow.

To everyone on the outside looking in, Sarah would be losing much, and Charles Bartowski and his sister would have all to gain. It was a lopsided proposition.

Sarah had been hearing it over and over and over from all sides whenever she went into town.

That did not matter to her. And it never had. And so she listened, smiled, nodded, and politely thanked them for their concern. Most of it, she knew, was disingenuous. They did not know Charles Bartowski, the handyman. Or his sister, the physician. He hovered through the town fixing things for people, making their lives easier, and his sister did the same but instead of fixing things, she cured ailments, ebbed aches and pains. But no one had grown up with them here. No one had a single clue about their stories, where they were from.

Sarah knew she was the only one either of them had told about why they had come to Pinedeep, why they had to leave so many other places during their attempts to find home.

It was a risk, marrying into a family with no history, no prestige. But she didn't feel as though Chuck and Ellie were risks themselves. They were good people who worked hard.

And in spite of the fact that she would become Sarah Bartowski, he had made a promise to her more than once over the weeks since the announcement. She would keep control of her estate, of her home, and she would continue to dictate her own path forward without the imposition of her husband.

She believed he meant it.

Would he keep to it? And for how long?

Perhaps this would be the day that would tell her more about what was coming in this marriage between a woman of landed gentry and a tradesman.

Sarah stopped short, however.

The fog drifted over her training grounds, enshrouding it in grey, no sounds but the tweeting of birds, the sound of water nearby, running through Walker Creek.

And there in the middle of the grounds, was the tall figure of her betrothed. She didn't know why she slipped behind a tree, for his back was facing her.

He held what looked like a thick stick, long and crooked, and he was idly swishing it through the air at his hip. And then he held it up, pointing it, before he slid his boots against the ground, opening his stance.

His stance?

He was practicing. Specifically, she saw he was practicing the last thing she had taught him. He shuffled his feet forward to thrust, then shuffled back again, kicking up a bit of dirt. The stick was his rapier.

In fact, his form was rather good, and it was clear he had been paying close attention, listening and absorbing what she was teaching him. He had clearly retained it as well, even though it had been over a month ago when she had gone through steps with him.

They had not sparred since the betrothal, and she did not entirely know why he had not come back to her training grounds to spend time with her. She wondered if part of it was that he was trying to prove he could be trusted, that he was sincere in the pact he made with her.

But now he had awoken early on the day of their wedding, come onto her property, and was strolling about her training grounds, training with a stick he'd found somewhere rather than a real rapier, as she kept her weapons behind a padlock only she had a key to.

Was he filled with nerves the way she was? Was he thinking of the rest of his future and how it would change later today with the exchange of vows?

Sarah knew this man was potentially sacrificing much of his future simply to give her the space to choose what to do with her own estate, and how to live her life. But once they exchanged their vows, the contracts were signed, and the sun came up the next morning, Chuck Bartowski could change his mind. She would have to be his wife in every way if he did.

Would this man, swishing a stick through the air as though it was a sword, shifting his feet in the dirt, grunting, live up to this great trust she was putting in him?

He finally smacked the stick against the side of a tree with a, "Ha ha!" and she just barely held in a giggle at how sweet and boyish it was.

Chuck dropped his stance then, letting the stick fall to the ground beside his feet, and he shuffled away from the tree, his back to Sarah again, and plopped down onto the dirt to sit and pull his knees up to his chest, staring out at the fog still sitting, unmoving, on her archery course that sprawled out before him.

Why had he come here?

She had come out here because it settled her in a way few things did. Had he found this place to be a safe haven, as well? Was this the first time he had done this? Or was he sneaking onto her property and enjoying its peace and solitude more often than she knew?

Even a year ago, she would have been miffed to find someone had trespassed onto her property. She would have many a question—were they poaching, stealing, or something else nefarious?

Instead, seeing him here finding his peace and solitude on her estate, Sarah Walker felt a sort of calm drape over her, like a warm blanket.

Perhaps, all would be well. Perhaps, she would find something different than she had expected in marriage. She had feared it, hated the idea of it, brushed off her father's hints that she would one day need to marry to continue the Walker line.

Would marriage be so terrible if it was with a man such as this?

She finally stepped out from her hiding place and crossed the distance to where he sat.

He heard her coming, as she purposely did not use her usual graceful, silent way of moving, and he whipped around, his eyes wide, outright fear in them. She tried to smile at him to reassure him.

"Sar—My lady, I am sorry," he rushed out, reaching a hand up towards her placatingly. "I should not have—"

She silenced him by holding a rigid hand up, and she kept the smile on her face. "Thou wilt receive no punishments from me today, not on the day of our wedding, good sir."

Chuck seemed surprised, but he cleared his throat, blushing. "Still, this is thine estate and I shan't have come here without invitation from thee." He made to climb up to his feet but she put a hand on his shoulder to keep him sitting.

"By this time tomorrow, 'twill be thine estate. By law," she added when he seemed ready to dispute that. "I know thou dost not see it that way." But before she could sit beside him, he tried to take his threadbare doublet off to put it on the ground beside him for her to sit on. She giggled. "I am capable of sitting on dirt."

"I…know," seemed to be all he could say. And she sat down next to him as he fixed his doublet back over his shoulders and tugged on the front uncomfortably. "I do not…trespass on other people's property often."

"Dost thou not?" she could not help teasing. He blushed more, shaking his head. "Wilt thou tell me the truth if I ask thee something?" He nodded, but she saw a thread of nerves in him still. "This the first time ye came here like this?"

Chuck ducked his head and winced, and she found her answer. She chuckled as he cleared his throat. "Truthfully, no. 'Tis not an often occurrence, I swear to the spirits." He cleared his throat again. "'Tis not an everyday occurrence at least. I do not come…every morning."

She laughed outright, shaking her head. "In truth, I am not upset with thee." She put a hand on his wrist and squeezed reassuringly.

"Only a handful of times, I promise." He swallowed. "Pinedeep is the most beautiful place I have ever been, and though I have not been here for more than half a year, thusly I have not seen all there is to see, I have found this to be the most beautiful place of all. Here. Thine estate."

Sarah pulled her chin back with a small smile. "Have ye?"

"Aye. Here lies peace." He cupped his hand by his ear. "Hear that? The creek. Then there are the birds. On this very morn, I am certain I heard a fox call. 'Tis easy to lose myself in thoughts; there is quiet in which to think. The trees, the creek, the hills in that direction." He pointed. "I see why thou loveth it here so dearly."

Biting her lip, she glanced down into her lap and shifted her legs so that they were bent beneath her, angled off to the side, her knees a mere inch away from touching him. She wanted to touch him. She was startled by how badly she suddenly wanted to throw her arms about his shoulders and hold onto him, squeeze until her muscles ached.

"This place has been in my family for generations, hundreds of years perhaps. We have an archive up in the highest room of the house, and I could look to find the real answer if I so chose." He raised an eyebrow in interest. "Perhaps someday I might. But the land, the estate, has been passed down through every generation of men, all the way down to my father." She picked a bit of lint off of her frock skirt and nibbled on the inside of her cheek. "And now it all belongs to me. Every inch of it 'tis under my care. And perhaps to someone on the outside, it might seem as a prison, as I am trapped on my family's land, forced to care for it, be its steward, protect the Walker legacy… but I love it so, 'tis my home, and I find I do not want to be anywhere else."

"I would not, either."

She turned and smiled at him, feeling it slowly growing across her face. "And so. 'Tis why ye came here a…handful of times, was it?"

She nudged him with her shoulder and he blushed again, grinning self-deprecatingly down at his lap. "I s'pose so, yea, my lady. We have Ellie's patients coming to the house often and it can be…busy. And the market is rampant with chaos on its calmer days." That made her laugh and nod in agreement. "When I came here to help thee with thy training equipment, I found so much beauty and quiet."

She pursed her lips. "Save for the heiress swooping in to talk thine ear right off…?"

"Nay, Sarah, 'twas part of its beauty." He looked right at her as he said it, and she felt her lips part, her heart thudding away in her chest. The handyman turned back to look out over the grounds again, straightening one of his long legs and propping his elbow furthest from her on his other knee. He snapped a small twig in half and tossed both halves away from him one at a time. "Dost thou ever feel as though…thou art looking for something, but…what it is, ye cannot know? I am struck with that feeling here, and so. This day felt like exactly the day to be here, before…"

Chuck's voice drifted off and she watched his profile as he stared straight ahead, his long eyelashes, curls being gently shifted on his head by a breeze fluttering past them, his jaw strong and hard, and the very tip of his nose turned up, just slightly. She hadn't noticed it before. It was endearing.

"To-day?" she asked quietly, and he nodded, not looking away from the archery targets.

"Aye."

"Would…thou tell me if ye were having…second thoughts?" she asked haltingly.

"I would." He turned to smile sweetly at her. "Perhaps not willingly, but I would have no other choice. See, I am a terrible liar."

Sarah threw her head back with a laugh, tilting to the side to bump him with her shoulder again. He gave her that crooked smile again and she thought today did not have to be something to fear with every fibre of her being. Perhaps she could go into it feeling a thread of hope? She might at least try it…

"So?" she prompted, the mirth gone. She sent him a serious look. "How art thou feeling about the ceremony? Since it is to-day."

"'Tis mere hours away now," he said wistfully. "Strange. These have been some of the longest days of my life."

"Yea, sir, mine too," she said in a rushed breath. "The preparation—the frills and the hubbub…"

"Mm." Chuck nodded. "I saw the way they are decorating the square for't. So much ribbon, flowers…all kinds of flowers strewn about everywhere. 'Tis almost…" He paused, wincing.

"Too much," she filled in. He only winced harder, as if he did not want to offend her. "I am sorry. I am a'feared 'tis my fault. This all rather goes…with the territory. Sarah Walker, heir to the Walker fortune and legacy, the Walker estate, cannot be married without…all of that." She huffed. "I wish I would have warned thee. I should have." He frowned in question. "When I first heard that the handyman was joining in on the game to win my hand, I should have had the courage to go to my good sir and tell thee that it would mean standing before the entire Pinedeep town—nay, many from the surrounding province mean to attend the festivities to-day as well—saying our vows, entertainers, expensive silks and satins and… Well, appearances are everything, are they not?" She squirmed, discomfited. "If I had told thee what this would look like, it would have given ye the chance to drop thy suit altogether to avoid this mess. And ye would not be trapped in this ostentatious presentation—"

"If thou had told me what this would look like when my plan first came to be, I would have done it anyway," he said, cutting her off, lines appearing between his eyebrows.

She looked right at him, but he wasn't looking back.

Sarah folded her hands together and pulled them into her lap, waiting for him to continue. She could see in his face he had more to say.

"I did not decide to do this for the large ceremony and celebrations with people from all over the province; 'twas not anywhere on my mind. I had no thoughts as to what it might look like. Who would be there, whether the celebrations would be grandiose or simple. I simply wanted my lady to have that freedom she so desires."

She shook her head. "And so ye will go through all of this for me."

"Without hesitation." Sarah simply didn't know how to respond to that so she merely stared at him, eyes wide as the targets that laid stationary on her training grounds in the fog. Luckily, Chuck continued and saved her the struggle. "But thou hast called all of these preparations 'ostentatious presentation', I could not help but notice. Dost thou think it all ostentatious? Art thou not keen on showcasing? Big bouquets of flowers? Ribbons coming out of thine ears?" He reached up to flick his own ear and she giggled.

"I do admit to not being keen on this particular form of showcasing. In which I am the center of attention? Nay, sir! Not me!"

"I see."

"But ceremonies in which I am not the center of attention? I do approve." And then without thinking much about it, she continued with, "In fact, when I was just a girl, I found a tortoise on our property—just near here, in fact. I think in that clearing there." She pointed to the left, at a clearing with light cutting down to slice through the fog. "'Twas a tiny little thing, about the size of a dinner plate. But it was malnourished and ill, so I nursed it back to health until it was ready to live alone out in the wild. Trial and error, I tied flower crowns. My father, and…it was one of the rare times my mother was not abed. They wore them, I wore it, my little tortoise wore it. We all looked very nice, and I said a few words to send the creature off."

She grinned down at her lap, remembering it more than fondly. She thought of that day in times when she felt particularly alone here. It was lonely without her parents, and she could admit that to herself. She would not say it out loud, not to this man who seemed to make it his mission to erase any amount of hardship from her existence. Why? She knew why.

She saw it in his face even now as he peered at her with that look she only saw in his face when it was just the two of them here. It was soft but adamant, his eyes warm, and then there was also a hint of heat there too. His lips cocked to the side in something of a small smile—crooked as always.

Sarah felt a slight blush on her cheek, but she thought the dim sunlight bouncing through the fog might mask it. She hoped it might.

"I would have liked to be a part of that ceremony."

"Oh?" She giggled, her heart warmed by his words. "Someday, thou might allow me to make thee a flower crown to set atop thy curls?"

Was she flirting? She felt as though she was flirting. Perhaps she was. And perhaps she was fine with the revelation.

"Thou maketh the crown, I will wear't." He even mimicked delicately setting a crown atop his curls, pursing his lips teasingly, and she laughed, rocking forward. He smiled, pleased. "So…thy tortoise. Ye ever see the little critter again after making it well and setting it free?"

She raised her eyebrows. "Oh, aye. It never left the estate and lives here still."

Chuck laughed loudly, throwing his head back. "It never left here?"

"Nay, it knows what side its bread is buttered on," she giggled. "If ye see it ambling about the grounds, it is much the bigger now." She held her arms out wide. "Fully grown."

"Seems it found a happy life here."

"Mmm." She nodded. "And 'tis no wonder, this estate was once a happy place and could be still."

"Is't not now?" he asked.

She glanced down at her lap. "I am happy enough. Happier still."

"Yea?"

"I hear tale the prince, Bryce, finally left Pinedeep. No suitors left, no one in pursuit."

"I thought he might stay for the wedding. Out of the three, I found him the most tolerable." She sent him a curious look. "S'true, my lady. Shaw was the privileged brute of the threesome. Completely intolerable, cruel, conceited. Cole, self-absorbed and a womanizer. And surely, Bryce was self-absorbed as well, with an idea he has the right of every issue, knows everything there is t'know, and, erm…" He squirmed in clear discomfort. "He did see me as naught but a peasant tradesman, that much was clear, and still he bore me no ill-will. He surprised me in the market before he finally left, thumped me on mine back and congratulated me. Wished us luck. He is a prince." He shrugged. "He has privileges none but him have, and so he sees the world in that way, but he was not seething the way the other two were. In fact, I would venture to say he found the whole thing…amusing?" Chuck snorted and shook his head. "The man's a prince, and seems good enough, so he will find a good enough princess."

"Indeed he will. I count myself lucky I will not be that princess."

"Mark me as glad also."

She peered at him for along while, and then she ducked her head, pursing her lips and twisting them to the side. "'Tis Pinedeep tradition for a groom not to see his bride the day of the ceremony, before the vows are exchanged I mean."

He furrowed his brow in confusion. "I did not know this. Though, I came here with no intention of ye seeing me."

Sarah set a reassuring hand on his arm. "Do not fret. 'Tis not the end of the world. I care not for tradition." She gestured at her training grounds with a flat look, making him chuckle and nod. "I did foil thy plan by finding thee out here." He winced with a blush. "I am glad, even if thou art not. I fear I would have been nervous otherwise."

The surprise in Chuck's face was endearing, sweet. "This…" He gestured between them. "It has made ye less nervous?"

"It has. I admit, it still has me nervous, though not as much. 'Tis a wedding after all."

"Thou art not alone. S'why I came here, methinks."

"As I did."

They met eyes and Sarah felt a sense of camaraderie she didn't think she'd ever felt before. Not with anyone.

And then he smiled and something fluttered in her chest.

"I should wander home and prepare for our ceremony." He broke her gaze and cleared his throat, tugging on his threadbare vest. "My sister will not let me marry thee wearing this. Instead, I must strangle to death in a collar that goes to here." He poked his chin.

Sarah giggled, not wanting him to go, but she did not say so. "Yea, Missus Naughton should be arriving soon, along with thy sister, to help me dress."

He climbed up to his feet, smacked at the dirt on the back of his trousers, and reached down for her hand. She slipped her fingers into his and let him help her up. She tried to pretend she didn't notice the way he kept hold of hand as she busily smacked dirt from her frock's skirt.

And they walked back to the house in silence. It felt tense with something…Expectation? She did not know.

Hours from now, she would be his wife, and he would be her husband.

The future sat heavy between them.

They paused before coming out from behind her house. He took a deep breath, his shoulders raising and falling again.

"When next we see each other…" he said quietly, his eyes searching for hers.

Sarah met Chuck's gaze. "'Twill be at our wedding."

"Aye." He nodded. And then he tipped backwards to lean against the corner of her stone house, his shoulders making contact with an audible thump. In that moment, he seemed so young, and she wondered at his age. "Sarah, I feel I must ask one more time. Before I hasten home to prepare for our vows. Please, be honest. Art thou certain about going through with this?"

She gave herself a moment to look at him, to take him in, head to toe. When she said her vows to him, and he to her, she would cede any power she had, all possessions she had, from herself unto him. It was not fair or right, and it was also the reality. No matter how often she longed for different, this was how things were. She could not change it. She would be his. All that was hers would be his, as well. Were he to decide to take advantage of this fact, she had no one to help her fight against it.

Sarah had no choice but to put her future in his hands anyhow. Come what may. Whether he went through with his promise or threw it to the wayside the moment they were documented man and wife, the ceremony over, this was her path. She had to take it.

"Yes," she finally said with one quick nod. She lifted her chin, trying to convey confidence she did not feel. "I am certain."

He seemed to doubt her for a moment, then he sighed and glanced around the corner of her large, sprawling home, out towards the road in front of it, before he pulled back and looked into her eyes.

That same earnestness shone in the golden flecks amidst the brown of his eyes and she could not help but trust it was real.

"Then we shall proceed with our vows later today." He paused, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "I will carry out my promise to thee, Sarah Walker. I will not let ye down. I gave thy key back to ye when first I unlocked the door and let myself in, as I will give thy freedom to make thine own choices back to ye. 'Tis not fair I will be given all that power, but 'tis how things work in this world. But I will not let ye down, I swear't. I cannot make thee trust in my words, I know. I will have to show ye. I understand it well."

He reached his hand out to her and she put her own inside of it, letting him squeeze reassuringly. She took some strength from it. But then he moved as if to leave her there, pushing away from the wall and stepping back from her… Her fingers closed tighter around his and she held fast.

Sarah dropped the controlled steadiness she consistently emitted and she stepped into him to wrap her arms around his shoulders, embracing him, turning her face into his hair at the back of his neck and squeezing.

He froze for a few moments, shocked she knew, and then he eased into the hug and wrapped his own arms around her midsection. They stayed standing that way for a long while, and then he turned his face into her hair and she heard him breathe, "Do not let worry be at the forefront of thine heart, my lady. Not for my benefit."

"Nay, sir. I will try not. But I want ye to know how grateful I am to thee."

He squeezed her, his hands respectfully spread on her upper back near her shoulders. Finally, they stepped away and Sarah allowed her arms to fall to her side.

She leaned her shoulder against the side wall of her house, watching him trek down the side yard. He didn't go to the gate to let himself out, instead bracing his hand on one of the fence posts and leaping over it.

Chuck turned once more to look up at her over his shoulder as he walked down the road, lifting a hand by his head. She lifted her own hand, and as he made his journey back to the home he shared with his sister, Sarah was all too aware of what the rest of the day would hold, and that she would wake in the morning a married woman.

Everything would be different.

And nothing that was hers now would still be hers.

Nothing.

She let out a shaky breath and ambled back into her home, her movements slow, preparing for her guests who would help her dress and travel with her back to the marketplace, specifically the steepled place of worship where the ceremony would occur.

The rest of her life awaited.

A/N: I have to confess something. I questioned and questioned and second-guessed and asked David and Joe a million times because it was very hard to write Sarah Walker in such a constricting society, as someone who adheres to such constrictions, even if she secretly engages in rebellious habits with her training and such. This is different than in the SteamVerse because while it is a strict Victorian (albeit dystopian) society that despises women having independence, she is still a criminal, rule-breaking, society-bucking badass in the SteamVerse, operating in questionable moral grey areas. In this AU, however, she has only lived in this town, has only known this society, these rules, and has lived by them at least outwardly. She is allowing her fate to be sealed and decided by a man, and is ceding her power to him. And oh my God, that actively made me wonder what the hell I was doing writing Sarah in this AU. I hope so far I have succeeded in making her in-character in spite of that. Sarah Walker doesn't follow rules in canon and not in any of my fics, AU or not. So this has been really hard to find that balance. Y'all can be honest with me if I haven't found the balance, if she's a little OOC. (Hahahahaaaaa like you folks aren't honest with me in your reviews on all my fics. *snort!*)

Anyway, thanks for reading anyway! More is coming soon. I'd appreciate it if you left reviews, if you're able to. Thanks!

-SC