FIC - First Knight (5/?)
Title: First Knight (5/?)
Author: wheelie47
Rating: NC17 (not for every chapter)
Pairing: Luke and Noah.
Word count: 2,407
Disclaimer: Don’t own characters, am not associated in any way with ATWT, Van and Jake. No offence intended.
Summary: Set in the fictional land of feudal Western Atlantia, King Damian has been overthrown and has fled the Kingdom of Oakdale. But his evil influence has spread across all eight Kingdoms. Lord Luke Snyder leads his army in an effort to bring peace and justice to a troubled time, aided in his quest by a certain dark-haired young Knight…
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4
Noah desperately tried to ignore the hushed mutterings growing in volume and in number behind him as he paced back and forth in front of Luke’s tent.
News had spread like wildfire through the encampment. The excitement that had met the announcement of the scouts’ return had been rapidly tempered by the shocked whisperings that Lord Snyder had been hurt. A large group of fellow Knights, their servants and the common yeomanry had soon gathered, seeking to gain first-hand knowledge of Snyder's condition.
Despite his best attempts, Sir Mayer could still pick out the shocked questions passing amongst the throng. “Is it true?” “How bad is he hurt?” “Is… is he dead?”
He halted at the sound of that last word, feeling his legs about to buckle. He could not… would not… accept that fate for Luke. It was not the man’s time nor did he deserve to part this life in such an inglorious manner.
Luke had still been breathing when they had carried him, under Oliver’s instructions, the shorter distance to his own tent rather than the hospital. The breaths had been shallow and his chest barely rose and fell. But Luke had been alive when Noah and the rest of the bearers were banished from within the canvas walls… he was certain of it.
Noah's eyes sought out a particular fellow Knight as the horrifying scene in the armory flashed again through his mind.
Sir Davies stood alone at the corner of the tent, his eyes downcast. Noah was sorely tempted to stride over and tear a strip off the man for his earlier actions. They had not exchanged a word since they had carried Lord Snyder from the armory and he wanted to berate Davies for his excess in the sword play. Noah had observed the two of them as they had circled around each other and had seen the Knight use excessive force in trying to prove his prowess when there was no such need. Everyone in the encampment knew of Davies’s skill as a swordsman. He should have reserved such a display for the enemy.
Now, because of Davies's foolishness, Luke lay inside; hurt and bleeding.
Sir Mayer even took a step toward the Knight but his tread faltered when the man lifted his head to see who approached. His face was drawn and pale and he was visibly trembling.
Noah held his tongue; Davies was clearly in shock and he decided that his rebuke could wait. The man was obviously suffering enough already.
Sir Kevin’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as his gaze was drawn down Noah’s torso. Noah followed the other man’s stare and he realized in horror that the Black Bear and crossed swords of the Mayer emblem on his surcoat were streaked in blood… as were his hands.
Blood! Luke’s blood!
His own hands began to tremble and he could bear it no longer. He simply had to get to Luke and see with his own eyes that he lived still.
Clenching his fists to hide the blood from view and to steady his resolve, Noah strode passed Malek as he stood guard at the tent opening. The Captain’s protestations fell on deaf ears; no man was going to come between the incessant pull he felt from within those canvas walls.
Noah held his breath as he pulled the tent flap aside.
He was greeted by intense blue eyes swiveled to face him, a frown of annoyance creasing the physician’s forehead.
Ignoring the stare, Noah’s eyes were drawn to Oliver’s hands as he stood by the washstand, blocking his view further into the tent and washing Luke’s blood from his skin, turning the clear water red.
“Is he….” Noah gulped, unable to finish the sentence.
“He is quite well… or will be if he takes heed of my instructions. Unlike you, who was instructed to stay outside while I attended to my charge.” The reprimand was clear in Reid’s voice.
“There are people gathering outside. They wanted news of Lord Snyder,” Noah muttered what he fervently hoped was a believable explanation.
His eyes found Oliver’s again. “You are certain? There… there was so much blood.”
“Calm yourself, Sir Mayer. I live still.” The weak but recognizable voice came from the deeper recesses of the tent.
Quickly side-stepping the physician, Noah let out a gasp of relief at seeing Luke alive and lying in his bed. But he was shocked at how pallid and weak the other man looked against his pillows and his eyes were drawn to the bloodied bandage wrapped tightly around his head, covering the wound. He bore little resemblance to the young Lord that was full of vitality barely an hour earlier.
Watching the Knight’s face, Reid seemed to take pity on the man. “Head wounds always bleed profusely. It seems fate was with him today; an inch either way or a blow from the edge of the blade instead and…” He left the words unsaid but the meaning was clear.
“Perhaps you will think on this next time. Is it not enough that the enemy seeks to cleft your skulls in half that you feel the need to practice on each other?”
A tremor flickered in Noah’s check. It seemed the physician’s compassion only extended so far. There still was the acerbic tongue that Oliver was famed for.
“I… it was not I…” Noah floundered and turned around as if he expected Sir Davies to have followed in behind him. But the other Knight was nowhere to be seen. Noah mused that probably the burden of remorse had kept Davies from his childhood friend’s bedside.
Luke lifted his hand weakly. “I… I take responsibility. I instigated it.”
Reid turned to face him. “Do not fear. I am reserving your tongue lashing until you have recovered sufficiently.”
Luke smiled wanly and began to struggle ineffectually to sit up. “I must talk with the scouts… listen to their report. We must mobilize the army.”
The physician had stepped between Noah and the bed in seconds, pressing his hand to the blonde's chest, pushing him gently but firmly back against the pillows. “No, you will not. You must rest. You would not cut a very inspiring or imposing figure if you cannot keep your balance, fall off your horse and crack your head open again. Let someone else play hero for a while.”
Relief and agitation fought for dominance on Luke's features as he sank back against the pillows but he made no further protest.
“Now, if you give me your word not to do anything foolish, I have others in my care to attend to.”
He looked between the two men before departing. “Take better care,” he warned over his shoulder.
Noah stood for long moments after the physician had gone, his fists clenching and un-clenching, as his emotions played across his face. He wanted to go to Luke, lay down by his side and pull him close to keep him safe. But he knew he could not. Not here. Anyone could walk in.
“You… you are certain you are not badly hurt?” His voice cracked when he finally spoke.
Luke nodded slightly then grimaced at the flash of pain that shot through his head. “I feel as if the blacksmith is using my head as an anvil, though,” he valiantly tried to jest.
Noah's hand jerked involuntarily, his fingers itching to reach out and soothe away the pain in the other man's head. Damn not being able to touch Luke when he wanted to! He had never felt this way about anyone before. He had never burned with such an aching desire to touch someone, to hold someone, to just be close with someone. No one could tell him that what he was feeling was wrong! This much intensity could not be wrong.
“Noah,” Luke breathed out softly when he saw the man before him struggling with his feelings.
At the sound of his name from the blonde’s lips, Noah could no longer resist and he reached out to touch the skin that was nearest to him.
He gently drew his fingertips over Luke’s knuckles, down his long fingers and back again before turning his hand and rubbing rhythmical patterns over the palm with the pad of his thumb.
“I was so worried, Luke. Worried that I had lost you. There was so much blood…”
“Noah,” Luke repeated, looking up into the clear blue eyes that were moist with building tears. He squeezed the brunette’s hand. “You did not lose me,” he whispered, forcing Noah to lean closer to hear him. “We have only just found each other. It would take more than a blow to the head for you to be rid of me!” He gave Noah what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
At the sound of a commotion outside the tent, Luke released Noah’s hand and the Knight stepped back from the bed.
Sir Donovan rushed in with Casey following in his wake. “My Lord,” he bowed before nodding perfunctorily toward Sir Mayer. “Forgive the intrusion. I came as soon as I heard. Are you badly hurt?”
Lord Snyder held up his hand to wave away the concern, trying to hide his annoyance that the older Knight had interrupted his and Noah’s precious moment alone. “I will recover, Sir Donovan.”
He shot a fleeting look of apology toward Noah. “But come. We must discuss the scouts’ report.” He gestured to the seat at the foot of his bed…
…
Sir Mayer twisted in his saddle to survey the land about him. The long column of Lord Snyder’s army was passing through a small village and he took the opportunity to study the villagers. Luke was right; you only had to take a look at these people and the way they lived to see how oppressed they were.
Their dwellings were little more than mud huts and they had only the most rudimentary of tools.
Noah’s section of the column passed by filthy children playing next to the settlement’s well. Their little faces turned to watch them, following the army’s movement, until the elders called them away.
He watched as the children returned to their hovels, seeing how the women clutched them to their skirts in fear.
Noah frowned; something here did not sit right with him.
Along the army’s journey this far west, they had, over time, seen many villages and settlements just like this one. But the inhabitants were usually happier to see them; looking on them as saviors from their lives of oppression. The people here, however, had real fear in their eyes and door after door was closed on them as they marched by.
“It's a glorious sight, is it not?” Noah was shaken from his thoughts by a voice to his left.
He turned and squinted in the sun, recognizing the stubbled features of Sir Reginald of the Addington clan sat atop his deep-chested dappled grey. He was about to ask what exactly the Knight was referring to when he followed the man’s gaze and realized he meant the long line of Knights and their mounts, the pikemen, the archers and the rest of the soldiery. The sunlight glinted on the worked metal as they marched onwards and they did, indeed, make for an impressive sight.
Any other day and Sir Mayer would have readily agreed with the man but he could not shake the growing feeling of unease that built in his stomach and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. “Have your advance guard reported anything unusual?”
“Unusual in what way?” Sir Addington frowned.
Noah shrugged. “I do not know. I just have an… an uneasy feeling…”
Sir Reginald leaned over and closed the gap between their two horses and patted Mayer on the back. “You are just feeling that way because Sir Donovan is leading the army instead of Lord Snyder.”
The way the other man said Luke’s name stirred something in Noah’s gut and had him looking over at the Knight questioningly.
But then it was gone and Noah wondered if it was just his overactive imagination playing tricks on him today.
Maybe Sir Reginald was correct. It did not feel right having Sir Donovan lead the army in Luke’s stead. Nor did Noah like the idea of being separated from the blonde Lord's side. He had sworn to lay his life down in service of the man but now he found that Luke had captured his heart and soul as well. He seemed to dominate Noah’s every waking thought.
Luke had agonized over the decision, trying to weigh up what his father would have done in his position. But there had been no real choice. Oliver had been adamant that Lord Snyder could not ride into battle so soon after being hurt and they dare not delay any longer after the scouts had returned with the location of King Aiden’s men. They needed to make use of the valuable information.
So now Sir Mayer found himself riding toward the reported location of the enemy. The army had the proud rearing stallion of the House of Snyder pendant at their head and were under the command of Sir Dusty Donovan while Lord Luke remained at the encampment with his guard and a troop detachment.
“Or perhaps you are just picking up on the men’s nervousness… seeing Lord Snyder’s absence as a bad omen,” Sir Addington called over his shoulder as he spurred his horse on to a canter to rejoin his own section.
‘Perhaps,’ thought Noah doubtfully. Like Luke, he did not set much store by these superstitions. Preferring, instead, to deal with tangible things he could see and fight.
His bay whinnied and side-stepped. “Steady, boy. Steady,” Sir Mayer soothed as he leant down and patted the animal’s shoulder.
Movement off to the right caught his eye as he straighten in his saddle.
It took him a split second to recognize the shadows taking shape on the high bank above them. A quick look to the left confirmed his worst fears. “Archers! Archers!” He bellowed in warning to his men. “Take cover!”
He reigned in his horse and lifted his shield arm as the first volley of arrows turned the bright sky dark, raining down on the gathered men.
The horrifying sinking realization hit Noah that they had been led straight into an ambush…
Chapter 6
Back to master fic post
Author: wheelie47
Rating: NC17 (not for every chapter)
Pairing: Luke and Noah.
Word count: 2,407
Disclaimer: Don’t own characters, am not associated in any way with ATWT, Van and Jake. No offence intended.
Summary: Set in the fictional land of feudal Western Atlantia, King Damian has been overthrown and has fled the Kingdom of Oakdale. But his evil influence has spread across all eight Kingdoms. Lord Luke Snyder leads his army in an effort to bring peace and justice to a troubled time, aided in his quest by a certain dark-haired young Knight…
Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4
Noah desperately tried to ignore the hushed mutterings growing in volume and in number behind him as he paced back and forth in front of Luke’s tent.
News had spread like wildfire through the encampment. The excitement that had met the announcement of the scouts’ return had been rapidly tempered by the shocked whisperings that Lord Snyder had been hurt. A large group of fellow Knights, their servants and the common yeomanry had soon gathered, seeking to gain first-hand knowledge of Snyder's condition.
Despite his best attempts, Sir Mayer could still pick out the shocked questions passing amongst the throng. “Is it true?” “How bad is he hurt?” “Is… is he dead?”
He halted at the sound of that last word, feeling his legs about to buckle. He could not… would not… accept that fate for Luke. It was not the man’s time nor did he deserve to part this life in such an inglorious manner.
Luke had still been breathing when they had carried him, under Oliver’s instructions, the shorter distance to his own tent rather than the hospital. The breaths had been shallow and his chest barely rose and fell. But Luke had been alive when Noah and the rest of the bearers were banished from within the canvas walls… he was certain of it.
Noah's eyes sought out a particular fellow Knight as the horrifying scene in the armory flashed again through his mind.
Sir Davies stood alone at the corner of the tent, his eyes downcast. Noah was sorely tempted to stride over and tear a strip off the man for his earlier actions. They had not exchanged a word since they had carried Lord Snyder from the armory and he wanted to berate Davies for his excess in the sword play. Noah had observed the two of them as they had circled around each other and had seen the Knight use excessive force in trying to prove his prowess when there was no such need. Everyone in the encampment knew of Davies’s skill as a swordsman. He should have reserved such a display for the enemy.
Now, because of Davies's foolishness, Luke lay inside; hurt and bleeding.
Sir Mayer even took a step toward the Knight but his tread faltered when the man lifted his head to see who approached. His face was drawn and pale and he was visibly trembling.
Noah held his tongue; Davies was clearly in shock and he decided that his rebuke could wait. The man was obviously suffering enough already.
Sir Kevin’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open as his gaze was drawn down Noah’s torso. Noah followed the other man’s stare and he realized in horror that the Black Bear and crossed swords of the Mayer emblem on his surcoat were streaked in blood… as were his hands.
Blood! Luke’s blood!
His own hands began to tremble and he could bear it no longer. He simply had to get to Luke and see with his own eyes that he lived still.
Clenching his fists to hide the blood from view and to steady his resolve, Noah strode passed Malek as he stood guard at the tent opening. The Captain’s protestations fell on deaf ears; no man was going to come between the incessant pull he felt from within those canvas walls.
Noah held his breath as he pulled the tent flap aside.
He was greeted by intense blue eyes swiveled to face him, a frown of annoyance creasing the physician’s forehead.
Ignoring the stare, Noah’s eyes were drawn to Oliver’s hands as he stood by the washstand, blocking his view further into the tent and washing Luke’s blood from his skin, turning the clear water red.
“Is he….” Noah gulped, unable to finish the sentence.
“He is quite well… or will be if he takes heed of my instructions. Unlike you, who was instructed to stay outside while I attended to my charge.” The reprimand was clear in Reid’s voice.
“There are people gathering outside. They wanted news of Lord Snyder,” Noah muttered what he fervently hoped was a believable explanation.
His eyes found Oliver’s again. “You are certain? There… there was so much blood.”
“Calm yourself, Sir Mayer. I live still.” The weak but recognizable voice came from the deeper recesses of the tent.
Quickly side-stepping the physician, Noah let out a gasp of relief at seeing Luke alive and lying in his bed. But he was shocked at how pallid and weak the other man looked against his pillows and his eyes were drawn to the bloodied bandage wrapped tightly around his head, covering the wound. He bore little resemblance to the young Lord that was full of vitality barely an hour earlier.
Watching the Knight’s face, Reid seemed to take pity on the man. “Head wounds always bleed profusely. It seems fate was with him today; an inch either way or a blow from the edge of the blade instead and…” He left the words unsaid but the meaning was clear.
“Perhaps you will think on this next time. Is it not enough that the enemy seeks to cleft your skulls in half that you feel the need to practice on each other?”
A tremor flickered in Noah’s check. It seemed the physician’s compassion only extended so far. There still was the acerbic tongue that Oliver was famed for.
“I… it was not I…” Noah floundered and turned around as if he expected Sir Davies to have followed in behind him. But the other Knight was nowhere to be seen. Noah mused that probably the burden of remorse had kept Davies from his childhood friend’s bedside.
Luke lifted his hand weakly. “I… I take responsibility. I instigated it.”
Reid turned to face him. “Do not fear. I am reserving your tongue lashing until you have recovered sufficiently.”
Luke smiled wanly and began to struggle ineffectually to sit up. “I must talk with the scouts… listen to their report. We must mobilize the army.”
The physician had stepped between Noah and the bed in seconds, pressing his hand to the blonde's chest, pushing him gently but firmly back against the pillows. “No, you will not. You must rest. You would not cut a very inspiring or imposing figure if you cannot keep your balance, fall off your horse and crack your head open again. Let someone else play hero for a while.”
Relief and agitation fought for dominance on Luke's features as he sank back against the pillows but he made no further protest.
“Now, if you give me your word not to do anything foolish, I have others in my care to attend to.”
He looked between the two men before departing. “Take better care,” he warned over his shoulder.
Noah stood for long moments after the physician had gone, his fists clenching and un-clenching, as his emotions played across his face. He wanted to go to Luke, lay down by his side and pull him close to keep him safe. But he knew he could not. Not here. Anyone could walk in.
“You… you are certain you are not badly hurt?” His voice cracked when he finally spoke.
Luke nodded slightly then grimaced at the flash of pain that shot through his head. “I feel as if the blacksmith is using my head as an anvil, though,” he valiantly tried to jest.
Noah's hand jerked involuntarily, his fingers itching to reach out and soothe away the pain in the other man's head. Damn not being able to touch Luke when he wanted to! He had never felt this way about anyone before. He had never burned with such an aching desire to touch someone, to hold someone, to just be close with someone. No one could tell him that what he was feeling was wrong! This much intensity could not be wrong.
“Noah,” Luke breathed out softly when he saw the man before him struggling with his feelings.
At the sound of his name from the blonde’s lips, Noah could no longer resist and he reached out to touch the skin that was nearest to him.
He gently drew his fingertips over Luke’s knuckles, down his long fingers and back again before turning his hand and rubbing rhythmical patterns over the palm with the pad of his thumb.
“I was so worried, Luke. Worried that I had lost you. There was so much blood…”
“Noah,” Luke repeated, looking up into the clear blue eyes that were moist with building tears. He squeezed the brunette’s hand. “You did not lose me,” he whispered, forcing Noah to lean closer to hear him. “We have only just found each other. It would take more than a blow to the head for you to be rid of me!” He gave Noah what he hoped was a reassuring smile.
At the sound of a commotion outside the tent, Luke released Noah’s hand and the Knight stepped back from the bed.
Sir Donovan rushed in with Casey following in his wake. “My Lord,” he bowed before nodding perfunctorily toward Sir Mayer. “Forgive the intrusion. I came as soon as I heard. Are you badly hurt?”
Lord Snyder held up his hand to wave away the concern, trying to hide his annoyance that the older Knight had interrupted his and Noah’s precious moment alone. “I will recover, Sir Donovan.”
He shot a fleeting look of apology toward Noah. “But come. We must discuss the scouts’ report.” He gestured to the seat at the foot of his bed…
…
Sir Mayer twisted in his saddle to survey the land about him. The long column of Lord Snyder’s army was passing through a small village and he took the opportunity to study the villagers. Luke was right; you only had to take a look at these people and the way they lived to see how oppressed they were.
Their dwellings were little more than mud huts and they had only the most rudimentary of tools.
Noah’s section of the column passed by filthy children playing next to the settlement’s well. Their little faces turned to watch them, following the army’s movement, until the elders called them away.
He watched as the children returned to their hovels, seeing how the women clutched them to their skirts in fear.
Noah frowned; something here did not sit right with him.
Along the army’s journey this far west, they had, over time, seen many villages and settlements just like this one. But the inhabitants were usually happier to see them; looking on them as saviors from their lives of oppression. The people here, however, had real fear in their eyes and door after door was closed on them as they marched by.
“It's a glorious sight, is it not?” Noah was shaken from his thoughts by a voice to his left.
He turned and squinted in the sun, recognizing the stubbled features of Sir Reginald of the Addington clan sat atop his deep-chested dappled grey. He was about to ask what exactly the Knight was referring to when he followed the man’s gaze and realized he meant the long line of Knights and their mounts, the pikemen, the archers and the rest of the soldiery. The sunlight glinted on the worked metal as they marched onwards and they did, indeed, make for an impressive sight.
Any other day and Sir Mayer would have readily agreed with the man but he could not shake the growing feeling of unease that built in his stomach and made the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention. “Have your advance guard reported anything unusual?”
“Unusual in what way?” Sir Addington frowned.
Noah shrugged. “I do not know. I just have an… an uneasy feeling…”
Sir Reginald leaned over and closed the gap between their two horses and patted Mayer on the back. “You are just feeling that way because Sir Donovan is leading the army instead of Lord Snyder.”
The way the other man said Luke’s name stirred something in Noah’s gut and had him looking over at the Knight questioningly.
But then it was gone and Noah wondered if it was just his overactive imagination playing tricks on him today.
Maybe Sir Reginald was correct. It did not feel right having Sir Donovan lead the army in Luke’s stead. Nor did Noah like the idea of being separated from the blonde Lord's side. He had sworn to lay his life down in service of the man but now he found that Luke had captured his heart and soul as well. He seemed to dominate Noah’s every waking thought.
Luke had agonized over the decision, trying to weigh up what his father would have done in his position. But there had been no real choice. Oliver had been adamant that Lord Snyder could not ride into battle so soon after being hurt and they dare not delay any longer after the scouts had returned with the location of King Aiden’s men. They needed to make use of the valuable information.
So now Sir Mayer found himself riding toward the reported location of the enemy. The army had the proud rearing stallion of the House of Snyder pendant at their head and were under the command of Sir Dusty Donovan while Lord Luke remained at the encampment with his guard and a troop detachment.
“Or perhaps you are just picking up on the men’s nervousness… seeing Lord Snyder’s absence as a bad omen,” Sir Addington called over his shoulder as he spurred his horse on to a canter to rejoin his own section.
‘Perhaps,’ thought Noah doubtfully. Like Luke, he did not set much store by these superstitions. Preferring, instead, to deal with tangible things he could see and fight.
His bay whinnied and side-stepped. “Steady, boy. Steady,” Sir Mayer soothed as he leant down and patted the animal’s shoulder.
Movement off to the right caught his eye as he straighten in his saddle.
It took him a split second to recognize the shadows taking shape on the high bank above them. A quick look to the left confirmed his worst fears. “Archers! Archers!” He bellowed in warning to his men. “Take cover!”
He reigned in his horse and lifted his shield arm as the first volley of arrows turned the bright sky dark, raining down on the gathered men.
The horrifying sinking realization hit Noah that they had been led straight into an ambush…
Chapter 6
Back to master fic post