FIC - First Knight (2/?)
Title: First Knight (2/?)
Author: wheelie47
Rating: NC17 (not for every chapter)
Pairing: Luke and Noah.
Word count: 2,705
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…
Warnings: Character death (takes place before the story but is referenced)
AN: The first chapter was written in the what_did_you_do as a response to a prompt of ‘waves and moonlight’ and I've been meaning to continue it but got a little sidetracked!
Previous chapter
Luke looked down at the map of the coastal Kingdom of California spread across the wooden table in his command tent. He could feel at least a dozen sets of eyes watching him closely. His advisers and the most trusted of his knights, most of who were more advanced in years and experience than he, waited for him to decide the army's next move after yesterday’s hard won victory.
He sighed inwardly and tried to focus; never had he felt the weight of his responsibilities as heavy on his young shoulders as he did then. He missed his father so much; if Holden Snyder were here, he would know what to do… what decisions to make in the interests of winning this war while not risking his men’s lives unnecessarily.
But Holden Snyder was not here…. could not… be here.
Luke squeezed his eyes tightly shut to try and keep from his mind’s eye the unbidden and unbearable image of his father being cut down from his horse in the midst of one of the most ferocious battles of the war to date.
It had been many months since that horrific day and now Luke found himself reluctantly leading an army in his father’s stead. But still the memory of his father’s last moments haunted him as if it were only yesterday. They had not even the time to grieve his passing properly and Luke felt he had abandoned his father when they buried him on the edge of some scarred battlefield far from the familiar plains and hills of the family estate in Oakdale. But there had been no choice and a broken hearted Luke had vowed that he would mourn for all the lost souls, including his beloved father, in a manner more fitting when all this fighting was over and they could finally return home.
The images of so much death and destruction haunted Luke’s dreams and woke him in nightly cold sweats, leaving him unable to return to sleep; fearing they would assault him even more vividly than before.
But last night had been different. It had been a blessed relief not to be tormented by those nightmares for one night.
Last night the images and memories that kept him awake were dominated by a pair of intense blue eyes that he could easily get so lost in and the stubbled features of a face whose rugged beauty literally took his breath away. He could acutely recall the sensual feel and taste of the man’s skin against his lips and in his mouth as every second of their clandestine encounter in Sir Noah’s tent replayed constantly in his mind.
Suddenly the urge to see those eyes and that face in the flesh again made him raise his head and cast his gaze to where he knew the handsome knight was standing.
His heart lurched into his mouth when he realized that Noah was the only one of the people surrounding the table that was not looking directly at him. Instead, the knight had his eyes downcast, seemingly intent on studying the map before him.
A rush of questions ran through Luke’s mind. Why wouldn’t Noah look at him? Was he ashamed? Did he regret their actions last night?
His growing anxiety was soothed a little when he remembered the intense look of need, want and longing etched across those handsome features when Noah had urged him to “Come, lay the night with me.”
‘No… no!’ Luke silently argued with himself. It was not possible that the other man held remorse for their all too brief coupling.
He just knew in his heart, beyond any doubt, that Noah felt as he did.
Luke quickly dropped his gaze when he realized he had been staring hard at the top of the brunette’s bowed head for several long minutes. A blush began creeping up his throat and he desperately hoped nobody had noticed the lingering look.
A grunt of frustration cut through Luke’s thoughts. “We should strike now, while we have the impetus… my lord,” an exasperated voice sounded loud in the relative silence of the tent and it did not go unnoticed that Luke’s title was added almost as an afterthought.
Luke’s head shot up at the impatient statement and, despite the conflicting thoughts going through his head, he could barely contain an indulgent smile as he looked straight into the face of his childhood friend, Kevin Davis.
Whilst Luke would grudgingly admit that he, himself, could be guilty of being a little headstrong at times; his friend was worse. All the while when they had been growing up and in their adolescence, Kevin had always been the one who was more interested in pursuing outdoor activities and getting himself into trouble, dragging Luke along with him when he could persuade his friend to get his head out of a book.
He sighed with regret that those childhood times were long gone, now seemingly a lifetime ago. In fact, Luke could almost believe that those times were somebody else’s memories; things were so different now.
Before he could open his mouth to reply, a tut of annoyance sounded from the knight standing next to Davis.
“Nonsense!” Sir Donovan exclaimed with a shake of his head. “You would have us risk more lives by rushing headlong into another battle instead of resting, re-grouping and consolidating our position?”
Kevin’s fists clenched and unclenched at being spoken to in this manner. “And what would you have us do, Sir Donovan? Squander away our advantage and let the enemy rest, re-group and consolidate while we sat here and did nothing? The men who fought bravely and lost their lives would have done so for naught if we throw away their sacrifice!” He turned back to face Luke, a look of appeal across his features.
Luke glanced between the youthful face of his friend and the battle scarred face of the dark-haired knight, torn between loyalty to Davis and the experience of Donovan.
He needed a second opinion. Looking around, Luke realized that Noah still had yet to raise his eyes from the map in front of him.
“Mayer,” he called out without thinking, having to bite his tongue to stop the more intimate ‘Noah’ slipping past his lips.
Sir Noah’s head shot up and for a split second a look halfway between surprise and horror flashed across his face. Luke had never called on Noah to give his opinion at the table before and Luke thought he caught a silent plea in those expressive eyes. He then understood the knight’s reluctance to look at him before. It was not out of regret but was borne out of a fear of discovery, in case a shared look exposed the changed nature of their relationship.
A pang of guilt twisted in Luke’s chest, wishing now that he had not called attention to the other man… knowing that the knight was not accustomed to speaking out in front of others.
He gave Noah a soft reassuring smile and an almost imperceptible nod of encouragement.
Noah quickly dropped his gaze down to the map again, desperately trying to ignore the effect those hazel orbs were having on a certain part of his anatomy and trying to contain the blush he felt creeping up his neck as a dozen sets of eyes now turned in his direction.
Swallowing hard, and trying to focus on everything his father had taught him about field of battle tactics, he managed to croak out, “Scouts.”
“Yes?” Luke encouraged.
Finally finding his voice and getting his willful body under control, Noah pointed to the map. “We should send scouting parties to here… and here. These are the positions I would rest a retreating army, L… my lord.” He caught himself just in time, covering himself by quickly adding, “this way our army can rest, while the scouts locate the enemy’s position.”
Luke held up his hand to command silence when he saw that Kevin had opened his mouth to comment derisively on Sir Mayer’s suggestion. “Mmm, sound advice, perhaps. I will keep my own counsel whilst I decide.”
With a glance at the faces of the men before him, lingering slightly over the rugged features of the handsome, dark-haired knight, he strode from the tent…
…
Outside, the day could not be more different from yesterday. Gone were the dark clouds, high winds and incessant rain… the sun was even shinning weakly. But, all around him, the reminders of yesterday’s battle clung to him like a fog that even the brightest sun could not dissipate.
As Luke moved through the encampment, mulling over his options, he found himself outside the hospital tent where the camp’s physician, Reid Oliver, attended the hurt and maimed.
Luke shuddered as he heard the screams and moans emanating from inside the canvas walls and imagined the horrors within. Knowing that he would be more hindrance than help to Oliver and the men within, he moved on… determined that he would return to visit the injured later.
The animated sounds of a large group of people caught his attention and he spotted a congregation of the common soldiery gathered outside a particular tent.
Luke paused for a moment and instantly recognized the sorcerer's dwelling.
“Smoke and mirrors!” he muttered to himself, shaking his head disdainfully. It grieved Luke that the rank-and-file in his army believed that the cause would succeed only if it had a sorcerer's blessing. He, himself, had no such belief, choosing to put his faith in things he felt he could trust and could explain. But the men seemed content and willing to serve as long as the omens were good and the sorcerer was with them, and that was the best Luke could hope for.
He moved swiftly on, his boots squelching in the muddy quagmire that was once the dirt paths of the encampment.
Luke was so deep in thought and so intent on where he was placing his feet that he did not realize where he was until he reached the northern edge of the compound that housed the corral and cavernous stable tent.
He smiled sadly; it was almost as if his feet knew where his heart wanted him to go… finding the place in the whole encampment where he felt most at ease and the closest to his father…
…
Once inside, he was assaulted by the familiar and reassuring sights and sounds of the horses. It was easy enough to slip into the comforting memories of gentler happier times when his father taught him to ride on their family estate.
But, even here, he could not avoid the heartache and destruction that war could bring. It did not escape his notice that, since yesterday, there were several more vacant stalls.
Luke squared shoulders and blinked back tears of regret and sorrow as he made his way to where his own charger was stalled.
Picking up a grooming brush, he stepped into the stall.
His horse whinnied a greeting and shifted nervously.
“Easy Stepper… easy boy,” Luke murmured soothingly as he worked the brush over the steed’s flank.
He knew the horse felt the loss of his fellow animals as keenly as he did. Luke mourned the fact that these beautiful beasts were subjected to the horrors of war.
Men had a choice of sorts; they could choose to fight or be subjected. But these magnificent creatures only followed where they were led; trusting their human owners.
Discarding the brush, Luke stroked Stepper’s muzzle and rested his head against the horse’s warm flank, feeling the rise and fall with each breath. “Rest easy, boy.”
Luke closed his eyes for a moment and tried to imagine that both he and his horse were far from here and back in the stables at home.
“He truly is a magnificent horse… Luke.” His name was almost whispered, barely audible.
Luke’s eyes shot open at the sound of the voice and at the feel of fingertips brushing his own where his hand still soothed over Stepper’s muzzle.
“Noah! I…” Luke stopped abruptly, looking around to see if they were alone.
Satisfied, he continued, dropping his voice all the same, “You came.”
He smiled and felt a warming flutter of emotion in his chest that Noah had realized what his lingering look in the command tent had meant… and that the knight knew him well enough to be instinctively drawn here.
Noah smiled back; a slow, easy smile that took Luke’s breath away. A smile that suddenly faltered when he was caught between his desire to embrace the blonde standing before him and the need to be discreet.
Sensing Noah’s unease but equally feeling the burning need to touch the other man, Luke looked wildly from side to side before pulling him further into the darker recesses of the stall to stand where they were partially hidden behind Stepper.
As much as he wanted to press his lips to Noah’s, Luke had to be certain in his own mind first. “You… you do not regret last night, do you?” he whispered, and Noah had to lean in closer to hear the other man’s words. “It’s just when you were reluctant to even look at me earlier, I…”
Noah could not stand to see the look of doubt and anxiety on Luke’s face. It made him want to hold the young blonde lord close and protect him like some injured and precious creature. But he knew that he could not and knew also that Luke would not thank him for being treated so fragilely either.
Instead he settled for leaning in and kissing those supple lips.
It was little more than a brush of lips really; given where they were and the fact they could be disturbed at any moment by a stable boy. But the intent and the want were there and he knew from the sound at the back of Luke’s throat that those feelings were understood and reciprocated.
“I regret nothing,” Noah breathed out when he pulled back slightly. “Only that we have to be so circumspect.”
Luke breathed a sigh of relief and rested their foreheads together. “I’m sorry, Noah. Sorry that I doubted you and sorry that I drew attention to you. I should have considered my words more carefully. I… I just wanted to see these eyes looking at me once again.” He pulled back far enough to look into the handsome knight’s eyes and reached up to cup Noah’s cheek with a calloused palm and rubbed the pad of his thumb underneath the brunette’s eye.
Luke’s hot breath ghosting across his lips, the feel of the lord’s hand on his skin and those hazel orbs seemingly looking straight into his soul had Noah surging forward and capturing those lips again, more ardently this time.
A low snort and a stamp of a hoof from Stepper brought them back to the reality of where they were.
“Uh…you should…” a breathless Noah began before Luke pulled him down to quickly press his lips to his own one last time.
“You should be returning to the command tent; the others will surely be reconvened by now and awaiting your decision.”
“Yes,” Luke said simply as a look of regret spread across his handsome features.
Wordlessly, Noah took a step backward but stopped when the young lord reached out and grasped his hand.
“We will find a way…” Luke gestured between the two of them, “… I swear, Noah. I swear we will.”
Noah nodded and smiled, a mix of hope and uncertainty in his eyes.
But affairs of the heart were matters for another day; other problems were far more pressing.
Silently, he turned on his heels and headed toward the canvas opening.
So intent was Noah on exiting the tent ahead of Luke relatively unnoticed and so focused was Luke on watching the handsome knight’s retreating form, that neither of them observed the hooded figure slipping back further into the shadows of the tent and remaining hidden until both the knight and the young lord were long gone.
Only then did the cloaked figure emerge and slip out unseen from under the rear tent flap ...
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