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 for still reading and for the messages of support.
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.
Sarah had turned away when he dried off, allowing him the privacy of dressing without her ogling him. She silently had to admit that she had already ogled enough. When he climbed into the water, when he was in it even though there wasn't much visibility with the rushing creek water, and again, especially, when he climbed out to take the towel from her.
His form was much more pleasing than she had expected.
With layers of clothes on, he seemed as though he might be more…on the skinny side. But she supposed that was just his height perhaps. Because under the light bruising on his body there were muscles. His shoulders were broad, his waist slim, his arms long. She had dutifully kept her gaze on his upper half—she wasn't completely shameless. But his upper half had made her blood run a bit hotter.
It was all too unfair.
And she found herself pouting a bit as they strolled back along the creek, approaching the large farm yard behind her house. He would do exactly what she figured on him doing; thank her profusely, promise he would not impose on her like this again, bid her farewell, and be on his way.
Instead, she wished to share that pie with him. She wished to sit across from him at her table, give them each a slice—spirits, maybe even two slices to make it last longer—and talk some more.
"T'must be a wonder," he spoke up as they slowed their pace, moving past the pens and coops, "living here on thy family land, knowing where ye came from, knowing the Walkers go back so many generations, having lived right here. 'Tis truly astonishing."
Sarah looked up at Chuck and smiled wistfully. "Some days 'tis almost a little…strange for me."
"Strange?"
"Aye. Strange. None in my family, at least none I know of, have ever strayed from this place. Sure, there were brothers and sons and the like who explored out there, but everyone has always returned to right here." She shrugged.
"I would." She watched him. He nodded emphatically, as though making his mind up about something. "I certainly would. Come back, I mean. I would return. I don't believe there is a more beautiful place in all the land than right here. On thy estate."
A grin stretched across her face. "Thou art sweet, Chuck. But ye have been all over this land. Surely ye have seen wonders."
"No, not so." Shaking his head, Chuck scuffed his boot against the dirt distractedly, frowning. "Not wonders as such. Some places, they-they looked the same as the last place. And the people were very similar."
"Closed-minded."
"Sometimes. Though some were too far in the other direction, too superstitious. Believing my sister—my Ellie—a witch. Madness."
Sarah giggled. "I am sorry. It is not funny. I only laugh because 'tis so unthinkable to me. To believe someone who has simply studied her craft as thoroughly as thy sister has…a witch. Boggles my mind."
"Some people do not like that which is…different. It frightens them."
"Foolish."
"Mm, I agree with thee. But many would not."
She made a soft scoffing sound at the back of her throat. "I know it well."
"Dost thou mean…the way Pinedeep's townspeople treat ye?"
Sarah pursed her lips. "I do not know. 'Tis not the same as what ye faced, what thy sister faced, in those other provinces. There is a sort of reverence in Pinedeep, for this land, this estate, my family. Sometimes I feel that they believe my father let them down by only having a daughter. No sons, no other children to carry on the Walker legacy. Even now, this land, this estate, everything, is now owned by a man named Bartowski. The property has shifted to another. I think it frightens them."
He frowned. "Ah. Yes. By name and contract, 'tis mine. They do not know that I have forsaken it back to thee, a Walker."
"Ah, but I am no longer known as Sarah Walker. I am also a Bartowski." And she found a sort of peace settling inside of her as she said it. Perhaps some of it had to do with the times she had seen the twosome that made up the Bartowskis interact with one another. There was so much love and kindness and comfort there. They protected each other.
And Sarah Walker had been so lonely for so long. The townspeople revered her while keeping their distance for the most part. To have someone the way Chuck and Eleanor had one another sounded…like a gift. And so, being Sarah Bartowski…well, perhaps they might let her in every so often, in more than just name.
There would be time for that, of course.
"I suppose that is something I keep forgetting," he admitted quietly.
Sarah swallowed a bubble of hurt. She had not forgotten. Every day, she thought of the ceremony, and the celebrations throughout the day and night. Did he not think of it? Did it not keep him up nights, the way it did her?
She disguised her thoughts with a wide, closed-mouth smile. "Understandable. Traditional, this…union of ours is not."
Chuck did not respond, and she was careful not to look at him. He had a way of wearing emotions on his face, and she thought he was unawares it was happening, too.
"Is it lonely here?"
The heiress had to work hard to keep one foot moving after the other. Her muscles had frozen for a moment. How did she answer that? He was so dangerous to be around, the questions he asked, the feelings he sent surging through her, and she so wanted to be around him anyway.
Chuck had asked her his question in sincerity, and he was owed sincerity in return. But it was hard for her. She did not talk to people like this. Even before she lost her family.
She nibbled on her bottom lip, and with a sigh, she made a decision. "It was not…not until I lost my parents. And now, I—I suppose that yes, it is lonely now. Here."
They wandered around the house to the front, making their way to his wagon. Chuck was silent, and she felt thoughtfulness in the silence. She did not interrupt it, even though she was uncomfortable now that she had admitted such a thing, and interrupting the silence felt like the thing to do to make herself feel less uncomfortable.
He put his hand on his horse's neck, stroking along its fine coat, his brow furrowed. "I know at least something about that."
"Do ye? But…"
"Yea, I do have my sister. And she has been a gift. And still, it has always just been us. I am lucky I have her, and she would say the same about having me, I know. But I also believe she has yearned for a home the way I have, though neither of us have said so out loud. We pretend it has not been hard, in front of one another I mean. Ellie, because she is the elder sibling, the one who has always taken it upon herself to be the protector, the one who has everything together. And me? Well. Truthfully…I believe I pretend so that she does not feel guilt that life has not been…everything we both want. Up 'til this point. Trying to settle, working hard, trying to fit in, having to flee again, over and over…a vicious pattern we have not been able to break. 'Tis not what either of us wants."
Sarah watched him with bated breath, feeling so grateful to be standing in that spot with him, to be the one he chose to share something with—something he apparently had not even shared with his sister. "And?" she asked softly. "What dost thou wanteth, Chuck?"
"Home," he said solidly. "Ellie would say the same. I know't. We want a home. A place to settle, to-to stay. Build our lives. We want to stop running. We want a home."
She bit her lip, meeting his gaze. "It may not mean much to thee to hear't, but…when the good handyman, Mister Bartowski, married the last child of the Walker legacy, he married the land as well, the estate. 'Tis yours, whether ye want it or not. That roots you to this…hallowed place, just as it does me." He chuckled at her slight teasing. She could not help reaching out to tug a bit on his tunic. "Marrying me rather trapped thee here."
"Trapped?" he asked. "Do ye believe I am trapped? Is it so bad?"
"Ye are forced to stay in Pinedeep now."
"Is this thy roundabout way of saying that Ellie and I have found our home in Pinedeep?"
Sarah knew she was not hiding her blush as she pursed her lips and twisted them to the side, reaching up to rub his horse's snout adoringly. "I hope ye both can find some semblance of a home here. After going so long without it and wanted it so badly." She cleared her throat, her eyes blazing as she looked up at him, meeting his eyes with almost a determined hardness. "And just let them try to run off the best physician Pinedeep has ever had…and the best handyman. I will not allow't."
His beautiful mouth tilted for a moment in surprise, and then that captivating grin that wrinkled his nose was there and she had to take a deep breath to keep her heart from bursting right through her ribcage.
"Best handyman am I?" he teased.
She grinned back at him and nodded. "We have never had a handyman in Pinedeep who has climbed onto an icy barn roof for us, risking his neck, ending up with bruises and bumps all over his body. Anyone would tell thee the same."
Chuck raised his eyebrows. "Yea, my lady, and well. Though my hope is that this was a one-time thing."
Sarah laughed, loving the way he picked up her hand, squeezed it, and then bent low to press a kiss to her knuckles. She still felt his lips there as he pulled away and moved to the wagon seat, bracing his foot to climb into it.
He seemed to be moving much freer after his dip in the freezing creek. His sister might be a witch, after all.
She inwardly snorted.
"I cannot thank ye enough for wasting so many hours out of thy day to come with me, show me to the creek, and sit with me to keep me company."
"And how could I do differently when I heard of my good sir's preference to not be alone in a time of suffering? Should I have left thee there? Alone and shivering?"
"Nay, my lady. Never that. Please."
They beamed at one another, but she ached as he winked and pulled on the reins, letting out a, "Hup hup!" to get his horse moving, clicking his teeth as the horse led him in a small circle, before it pulled him towards the fence again.
Sarah opened the gate wide for him to ride through, and then he tipped an imaginary cap he was not wearing, grinning that nose-wrinkling grin, and off he rode, leaving her alone.
Wondering.
Pining.
}o{
"What are ye doing?"
Chuck let out a shocked squeak, the knife he'd released from his fingers smacking into the dirt halfway to his makeshift target.
He huffed and rolled his eyes at his sister over his shoulder. "I was concentrating."
"Are…Is that one of my cooking knives?"
Wincing, he went to collect it off of the ground, walking it back to her. "Erm…here."
"Why art thou throwing my kitchen knives?" his sister demanded, hands on her hips.
"Well, I thought my good sister had already left to help Mr. Garnet's daughter deliver her first babe. And I thought ye would not see't."
She rolled her eyes back at him. "That much is clear. What is all this? Also, I should expect my good brother to sharpen this blade now that he hath dulled it by throwing it at the side of his workshop. Like a fool."
"I…I will sharpen it. Yea." He hung his head, embarrassed. "'Twas just a little target practice is all."
"Who taught ye to throw knives as such?"
"No one," he said immediately, shaking his head. "Something I read about. In a book." He cleared his throat. "The pious knight and his broadsword were not enough to take down his conniving opponent and so he learned to throw blades, small blades, knives. And he…triumphed. Erm…"
"Mm. And so. Thou art a knight now?"
"I just wanted to see if I could do it." He shrugged.
Ellie gave him that look of hers that told him he was a terrible liar, and then she giggled and ruffled his hair. He gave her a disgruntled look and pushed her hand out of his curls. "I mean it about sharpening them. If I try to cut potatoes with that and it doesn't slice through like 'tis butter, I will hold thee accountable." She poked him in the chest. "Off I go now."
"'Tis a boy."
She sent him a haughty look as she made her way to the door that led into their kitchen again. "Mm mm. 'Tis a girl."
"What'll ye bet?"
The fun of the game lit her green eyes as she turned, her hands on the door frame on either side of her. "All cooking duties for the next week belong to the loser."
Chuck grinned hard. "Deal. Cannot wait to sit back and taste that magnificent Ellie Bartowski cooking for a whole week. Mmmm."
"Ha. This feels like a lose-lose for me now that I've said it," she drawled flatly. "If I lose, I have to cook for a week. If I win, I have to eat thy cooking for a week."
"Hey now!" he called after her as she ducked inside laughing.
He chuckled and shook his head.
The brat.
Then he turned and aimed again, holding the blade exactly the way he remembered Sarah teaching him, so many weeks ago now.
And as he whipped his hand forward, he watched the knife stick in a wood panel on the wall of his workshop. "HA!" He clapped his hands together once in excitement. Sure, he had been aiming for the target he had painted and mounted and instead it sunk in about three feet lower and a bit off to the side. But the knife had gone forward and not just into the dirt. And it hit the wood with the correct end, which was different from the last few times!
He was getting better.
Mrrreeeowww
His eyebrows shot into his hairline as he spun around, looking for the creature that made the cute, familiar little sound. He was grinning already before he spotted her perched on his roof, peering down at him. She sat so elegantly and daintily, her two little paws lined up right next to each other in front of her, her long black tail swishing back and forth slowly, her yellowish green eyes fixated on him.
"Why, if it isn't my little friend!" he exclaimed, moving in closer and crossing his arms at his chest. "I have not seen ye in so long, I thought perhaps I had offended thee."
Chuck watched as she got up, stretched slowly, and then picked her way down from the roof, every movement graceful and stately.
"I wondered if I made my cat friend upset when I took that key from thy collar. I have only seen thee from afar since." When she landed at his feet in the dirt, he knelt down in front of her and outstretched his hand. "Are we still friendly? Perhaps I might apologize, hm?"
Mreow
She moved in to push the top of her head against his fingers, and he kept his hand very still, having never petted a cat before—save for the first one when he was a boy, and the sneezing attack it gave him made him very aware it was a bad idea to ever do it again. She stroked her own head against his fingers and palm, purring, and he chuckled, scratching behind her ear.
"Thou art a sweetheart, hm? And despite my allergy, still…" He sniffed a few times. "Nothing. No itch in my nostrils. No violent sneezing. My head does not feel full or heavy." He moved his fingers to scratch her under her chin and she closed her eyes happily to enjoy it, making him giggle. "Thou art a wonder, little friend."
He glanced up toward the kitchen. "I believe we have a little cream left. Perhaps ye would like some, hm?"
She moved a little closer and he shifted back with a wince. "I think I may be pushing it letting ye get too close. I would rather not be miserable with sneezing."
She stopped and shifted back a bit, sitting daintily again, blinking up at him.
That was when he realized something was shoved in the cat's collar, like a very small scroll, paper rolled and pushed into the space between the cat's fur and the collar.
"What is this?"
Mreow?
She shifted closer. It was the same sort of movement that he remembered that night when he was too drunk for words, when the cat let him take the key which forever changed his life… and her owner's life as well.
And so he tentatively reached out towards it. "Shall I take it?"
Mrrrr…
He could hear her purring.
Clutching it between his fingers, he gently took the rolled piece of paper that was less than the length of his pinky, and slowly smoothed it out to look down at it.
Words were scrawled on it.
And while the note was not signed, he had a strange feeling it could only be the owner of the cat's writing. Her handwriting sloped elegantly, and it was everything he imagined from someone like Sarah Walker.
But then he furrowed his brow in confusion.
Close your eyes, it read.
"I must…close my eyes?" He gave the cat a confused look. It blinked back. He looked down again to see she had added, Please trust me.
Confused, but deeply in love, and of course trust seemed to go hand-in-hand with the purest forms of love, Chuck shook his head, then shrugged, still kneeling with one knee against the dirt, his other foot bracing him on the ground, knee jutting up by his shoulder.
"I suppose I must trust her then, hm?" he asked the cat.
And then his eyes fluttered shut.
Just then, a gust of wind came from nowhere, nearly knocking him onto his backside it came so suddenly and brusquely.
"Open your eyes."
Chuck froze, his eyes still shut.
Sarah?
Where—?
He blinked his eyes open, and there in front of him were beautiful light blue skirts, shifting in the breeze. He jumped, falling back onto his backside, and his eyes dragged up her skirts, past her torso, her shoulders, her neck, and finally to her face. She towered over him, an uncertain look crossing her beautiful features.
"Wh-What is…?" he breathed, his voice shaking, still sprawled with his legs akimbo from where he fell. The note lie forgotten somewhere on the ground.
Then he whipped to the right, then to the left. "Where—Where is thy cat? Sarah, why are—Where didst thou…come from?"
"She is here." Sarah spread her arms out to the side, biting her lip, looking very uncomfortable, but somehow resigned as well.
Chuck looked to the left and the right again, before he scrambled up to his feet, his knees feeling like jam as he slapped at his legs to get the dirt from his trousers. "Where did she go? She was just here and now thou art…" He whistled. "Here, sweet puss…" He clicked his teeth, looking around for her.
"Thou wilt find her not, Chuck. Because she is right here. That is what I am trying to tell thee."
He froze, her words sinking in, and he slowly turned to look right into her face. "She…is not here. Because thou art here. She ran off when ye appeared."
"She ran not." Sarah shifted her weight, taking a deep breath, and then she lowered her arms to her sides and looked him in his eyes, her own eyes so blue and bright, even as they were tentative, uncertain. "She is here, because…she is me. And…I am her."
A/N: Some of y'all guessed in your reviews a long time ago and I was like SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH but there it is, the big reveal. More soon.
-SC