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Finding Home
| Season: |
None |
| Spoilers: |
None. |
| Rating: |
12 for off screen violence |
| Story Type: |
Short Story |
| Past Life:
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Set in England in the middle of the twelfth century
during the fifteen year civil war between King Stephen and the Empress Maud
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| Warnings: |
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| Notes: |
Thanks to Jodi and Pepe for the
betas. This is my first ever story and I couldn’t have done it without them.
All remaining mistakes are, of course, mine. On a historical note, the
Empress Maud is probably better known to many readers as Matilda. She was
known as either, with Maud being the Saxon version. Maud, however, is the
name that I learnt in school, and therefore, the one that always sounds more
correct to me. I also think that ‘the Empress Maud ‘sounds more imposing
than ‘the Empress Matilda’, but that’s just me. This was inspired by
Saladscream’s beautiful manip. ‘Disillusioned’ |
| Word Count: |
3644 |
Sir Daniel leaned on the battlements and surveyed the
area. The late afternoon sun reflected off the armour of those who’d fallen in
the attack on the castle the previous day. He’d come up here to grab a few
minutes to himself and escape the war for a short while, but instead he found
himself surrounded by it wherever he looked. The stench of blood and death was
strong in the air. God, he hated war! His heart longed for peace, but he was
Lord Edgar’s ward, and, as such, was expected to do his part in defending the
fiefdom. It had been his fate since his parents’ death when he was eight, and
the King had sent him to be fostered here. Although Daniel was of noble birth,
with no living relatives to turn to, his fosterdom and squirehood amounted to
little more than slavery. He had no more freedom within the castle than the
lowliest scullery boy. The estates that should have come to Daniel were now the
property of the attacking King, leaving Daniel totally reliant on his patron, a
fact that said patron took every opportunity to remind him of.
Daniel sighed heavily, for he hated his life. Soon it
would be time to go in for the evening meal and listen to the others talk of how
many they’d killed that day, mainly innocent serfs forced to fight in a war they
didn’t understand, for a Lord they did not love. The same was true for them. The
longer the war went on, the more the sides seemed to merge to Daniel. Only the
fact that Maude’s troops had killed his family, and a strong sense of loyalty to
the peasants, kept Daniel from joining the priesthood, like many minor nobles.
With another sigh, Daniel turned away from the desolation before him, and braced
himself to re-enter the castle where he lived, but had never been home to him.
Below, in the enemy camp, Jack O’Neill removed his
spy-glass from his eye. He was supposed to be checking for possible weaknesses
in the castle’s defences, a way to put a quick end to this siege. Instead, he’d
found his attention caught by the youth on the keep’s battlements. Jack was
captivated by him, for reasons he couldn’t quite explain. The soldier in him
said that the air of defeat around the young man suggested that the siege would
soon break. The man in him reached out to the bleakness and lack of hope in one
so young. There was also a small part of him that sensed a familiarity about the
boy. Letting his mind wander, he was reminded of someone from long ago….
A deserted road, empty, except for the carnage surrounding
his small troop. It was the scene of a massacre. The small entourage hadn’t
given up without a fight. A desperate search had uncovered what was left of his
childhood friend, Mel, and Mel’s beautiful wife, her features marred by the
savagery of the attack. No amount of searching had uncovered their young son,
though. Jack only hoped that the child hadn’t witnessed what had been done to
his family, and that his death had been swift.
With a shock, he realized that Daniel would have been
about the same age as the young man in the castle. Perhaps that’s what had
brought up the maudlin memories. God, there could only be about ten years
between the lad and himself. Had he ever been that young? Years of war had left
him worn down and aching. Although not much above thirty himself, his hair was
threaded with silver now, making him appear older, and today he felt every year
of his perceived age. The fading light making details indistinct, O’Neill went
make his report.
~~~~
Daniel’s heart thumped in his chest as the castle gate
opened the following noon. He squared his shoulders, knowing what was expected
of him; the bruises on his handsome face and those covered by his clothes
emphasizing the point his Lord had made so forcefully. According to Lord Edgar,
the talks over the castle’s surrender were the perfect opportunity to take out
O’Neill, the man who had butchered Daniel’s parents. Did Daniel not remember
their screams, their blood, the nightmares he had suffered as a child? He could
finally avenge them. A dagger during the talks was all it would take.
Daniel’s arguments that this would achieve nothing, that
it would lead not only to Daniel’s own death, but probably that of everyone else
in the castle as well, had fallen on deaf ears. The tirade on what a weak child
and poor excuse for a man Daniel was, became a litany to the blows inflicted as
the point was beaten home. . A virtual lifetime of such treatment had taught
Daniel several things: he was useless, worthless, that physical touch brought
nothing but pain, and that the only person he could rely on was himself.
As he marched towards his parents' murderer, with the
sounds of his lord’s derision ringing in his ears, he thought that the Abbey
looked pretty good. Nevertheless, he knew that killing O’Neill would do nothing
but make him a murderer. It wouldn’t bring his parents back, and he wouldn’t
risk peace for revenge. Too many lives depended on his actions and the choice he
was now faced with
At the tent entrance, Daniel stood still as O’Neill’s men
searched him. As the tent flap opened he squared his shoulders and ran his
tongue over suddenly dry lips. He could feel the fine tremors of fear that ran
through him as the guard announced, “Lord O’Neill of Woodhaven.”
Daniel’s heart stopped --- that was his title. He took a
step forward staring at the other man as he announced himself. “Sir Daniel of
Woodhaven, at your service.” Daniel didn’t know which surprised him more, how
steady his voice was, or how pale O’Neill grew, before the goblets he was
holding fell from suddenly lifeless fingers.
O’Neill had been looking over last minute plans as he’d
heard Lord Edgar’s representative arrive. He’d turned with two goblets in his
hand to greet his guest, expecting one of Edgar’s sons. What he hadn’t been
expecting was the young man from the battlements.
O’Neill had caught the shoulders straightening, and the
nervous lick of the lips. He also hadn’t been able to miss the fact that the boy
looked like he was walking to his execution, but there had been no mistaking the
steel in his voice as he’d announced himself.
O’Neill had felt the colour drain from his face, and the
cups had fallen from his hands as he’d stared at the boy. No. Not the boy.
Daniel. Mel’s son. Alive.
Jack recovered enough to halt the guards that rushed to
his aid, and then he examined the figure before him, smiling slightly when he
realized that, though uncomfortable, Daniel held eye contact and allowed the
scrutiny. Only the slight colouring of his cheeks, another quick lick of his
lips, and convulsive swallowing gave away his nervousness. Daniel really was
little more than a boy, and took more after his mother than his father. He was
pale and a large bruise marred his right cheek, but somehow it only accentuated
the fine features. His lips were perhaps fuller than one would expect on a man
and the eyes...God! His eyes were so blue and so full of pain and uncertainty.
Jack wondered where the bruises came from, as there had been no fighting since
the last time he’d seen Daniel, but that was a question for another time.
As uncomfortable as Daniel was under Jack’s open scrutiny,
he took the opportunity to study his opponent. O’Neill was about two inches
taller than himself, his build wiry, his skin tanned from long hours in the
outdoors. A scar bisected his left eyebrow. To Daniel, he looked every inch the
warrior, that was until Daniel looked into his eyes. Where Daniel had expected
cold and hard eyes, he found that while assessing, they were full of warmth and
compassion. Could this really be the man who’d butchered his parents?
Daniel cursed as he automatically flinched away from
O’Neill’s touch. The man had only been going to guide him to a chair, for
Christ’s sake. He glanced nervously from under long lashes to see if Jack had
noticed, surprised to see the pain in the other man’s eyes.
Jack’s voice was quiet when he spoke. “I’m sorry, Daniel,”
Jack said softly. “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
“Y-Y-You didn’t,” Daniel stammered, hating himself for the
nervous habit. He flashed a shy smile at O’Neill, to cover the blatant lie, and
added a quiet, “My Lord,” to regain his footing. He was here to do a job, not to
be distracted by kind words and warm eyes, a combination he wasn’t used to. It
was quite unsettling. 'My Lord', of course,” Jack repeated, fully aware of what
Daniel was doing
“All right, Sir Daniel, what is Sir Edgar offering?” Jack
quirked an eyebrow at Daniel, while indicating a seat with a tilt of his head.
“Well,” Daniel replied, drawing out the syllable, as he
turned to take the offered seat. This was the difficult bit, ensuring the safety
of those he cared about. “In return for safe passage for his household, my Lord
will withdraw to his lands in the north and withdraw from King Stephen’s
campaign.” Daniel made his speech all in a rush, with his eyes firmly fixed on
his hands, only looking up at O’Neill at the end, to gage his reaction.
Jack replayed what Daniel had just said, more slowly, in
his head and then looked down into the earnest blue eyes before him; eyes that
were completely without guile. How could the youth before him ever have been
raised by the Edgar he knew? “Very well, Edgar may withdraw, but he will forfeit
his lands here to Robert of Gloucester, in the name of the Empress Maud, but…”
Jack raised an index finger to emphasis the point, “We will require hostages to
ensure his further participation.”
Daniel realized that this was the norm in these
situations, but somehow the way O’Neill had looked at him on the word ‘hostages’
made him shift uneasily. Another lick to his dry lips and the quiet question
slipped through. “Who?”
Jack knew that Daniel had no negotiating position, but
still Daniel’s quiet acceptance of that impressed him. The answer was
deceptively casual. “His eldest and youngest sons, and you.”
Daniel’s stammered, “M-m-me?” was met by a slight smirk
and raised eyebrow.
“Be outside the castle at first light if his Lordship
accepts the terms.”
Daniel recognized a dismissal when he heard it and, heart
pounding in his chest, he nodded and left. Why, why would they want him as a
hostage? Edgar wouldn’t care what happened to him, so why would O’Neill and
Gloucester want him? To finish what they’d started fifteen years ago? Yet
somehow he couldn’t see O’Neill being that callous, but war was war. With his
thoughts swirling in his head, Daniel returned home.
~~~~
An early morning fog met O’Neill and his small entourage
as he waited to see what Edgar’s response would be. In truth, Edgar had no
choice but to accept. It was that or everyone died. Jack felt his guards tense
around him as the gate opened. Daniel emerged first, on foot, wearing the
battered armour he’d worn before and an equally aged sword. He was followed by
two others, mounted, and looking equally nervous, but outfitted as befitted
their place as the Lord’s sons, and with a bag of belongings each.
Daniel approached O’Neill, drew his sword and dropped to
one knee. With his head lowered, he presented his sword hilt first in the
age-old symbol of surrender.
Jack was stunned. “Daniel, where are the rest of your
things?”
Daniel kept his head bowed as he answered, but Jack could
see the colour rising on the back of his neck. “I came here with the clothes on
my back and my father’s sword, so I’m to leave the same way. All else belongs to
my Lord.”
Jack was furious, but with Edgar, not Daniel. However,
Daniel still flinched at his harsh tone as he ordered a mount to be brought for
Daniel. Daniel didn’t know what to do. He hadn’t been told to rise, and no one
had taken his sword. O’Neill was angered over something and Daniel didn’t know
what he’d done wrong, so he stayed as he was, desperately wishing for someone to
tell him what to do.
Jack went to check the horse for Daniel and started when
he realized that he was alone. Turning, he saw that Daniel hadn’t moved, his
head still bowed and sword still raised, but somehow his pose now radiated
uncertainty, as did the deeper red colour on his neck.
Seeing Edgar’s sons dispatched with other guards, Jack
allowed his demeanour and eyes to soften, and he walked towards Daniel slowly,
as if approaching a skittish colt. He placed a gentle hand on Daniel’s shoulder
and felt the muscles tense.
“My Lord Woodhaven,” he said gently. “Your sword is not
required.” Fitting actions to words, he used his other hand to gently push the
sword back towards Daniel. “Come.” A gentle pull on Daniel’s arm caused him to
look up – puzzlement on his face. Why was this man being nice to him?
O’Neill’s heart near broke at the reaction, wondering what
Daniel's life had been like, that basic kindness left him flummoxed. On second
thoughts, he didn’t want to know. A softly repeated, “Come on, it’s time to go,”
and an accompanying head movement drew Daniel’s attention to the waiting horse.
Rising slowly, Daniel followed O’Neill and prepared to
start his life as a prisoner of war.
~~~~
Riding beside Daniel several hours later, Jack noticed the
increasing backwards looks and agitation of his companion. By the time O’Neill’s
small band split from the main group containing Edgar’s sons, Jack could no
longer ignore Daniel’s behaviour. As Daniel turned once again to watch the
departing group, Jack finally snapped, “Daniel!”
At Daniel’s start, Jack softened. “What’s wrong? Do you
need a break?”
Daniel just shook his bent head, using his shaggy hair to
hide his face, but couldn’t resist another backwards glance.
Thinking he might know the problem, Jack probed more
gently. “Daniel, what’s wrong?”
Daniel glanced up sideways. Blue eyes slightly moist, he
quietly admitted, “Everything I’ve ever known is back there. The top of the next
hill is the farthest I’ve ever been.” A nervous lick of the lips, and then even
more quietly, “What’s on the other side?”
Jack knew, however, that what he was really asking was
what would happen to him, so he answered both. “Whatever you want, Danny.
Whatever you want.” With that he kicked his horse’s flanks and took off, leaving
a stunned Daniel in his wake.
Danny? Actually, it was kind of nice to be called it. No
one had ever given him an endearment before. With one last glance over his
shoulder, he followed O’Neill’s lead and rode to meet his future.
~~~~
Horses, panic, screams and blood, so much blood. His
father shouting, then falling in a sea of blood. His mother’s screams as he
picked up his father’s sword, the weight too much for him to lift the point off
the ground as he stood in front of his downed mother. The harsh laughter and
harsher hands that lifted him out of the way. His mother’s dying screams….
Daniel sat bolt upright as he struggled out of the dream.
As his gasps turned to sobs, Daniel became aware of warmth surrounding him,
strong arms holding him and a gentle rubbing on his back that matched the voice
repeating that he was all right, that it was just a dream.
Embarrassed, Daniel pulled back, and the pressure eased.
Looking up, he peered into the warm brown eyes of O’Neill. Eyes filled with
nothing but concern and compassion and not the derision that Daniel was
expecting.
“Your parents?” Jack inquired softly.
Not yet trusting his voice, Daniel just nodded.
“I’m sorry,” Jack responded quietly, as he held the still
shaking man.
“Why?”
“Why what? Why am I sorry?”
“No, why did you kill them?”
“What?” came Jack’s shocked response. The blue eyes that
met his were intense, searching his face as if trying to read his soul. Meeting
that gaze directly, Jack tried to make Daniel feel the truth of his answer.
“Daniel, I didn’t. What makes you think that I did?”
Daniel dipped his head, and then looked up, a little less
certain. “E-E-Edgar s-s-said,” he stammered softly.
Jack ran one hand through his hair and cursed. Edgar
really had done a number on Daniel in so many ways. He put his hands back on
Daniels arms, thankful that Daniel didn’t flinch away from him.
“Daniel, listen to me. Edgar lied to you. Your father was
my friend. I was his squire during my fostering. I don’t know who killed them,
but I suspect it was supporters of Stephen’s, and that’s how you ended up where
you did. We thought that you were dead too. God, Daniel, I looked everywhere for
you. I only took on the stewardship of Woodhaven while I looked. You’re not a
hostage Daniel, I’m taking you home.”
Daniel’s eyes searched Jack’s face as if trying to read
the truth there. Finally he stated, “I believe you.”
The sense of relief Jack felt surprised him. “Thank you,”
he replied softly, letting out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
~~~~
Two days later, they rode into Woodhaven. It was nothing
special, just a quiet, fortified manor, but it was pretty, with a mill nearby on
a river with ducks. It exuded peace and calm, emotions not reflected on his
charge’s face, Jack noticed.
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jack queried gently.
“I’m not sure that I can do this,” came the quieter reply.
“I am,” Jack stated and led the way.
The next few hours passed in a whirl for Daniel, with Jack
announcing him as the returned Lord of the manor and Daniel just wishing that he
could disappear.
Finally Jack took pity on him. With a quiet, “Come with
me, I’ve got something to show you,” he pulled Daniel from the room and led him
to the main bedchamber. “I kept these for you.” With that, he pulled out a chest
full of mementoes and papers belonging to Daniel’s parents. Daniel just stared
at first, and then, gingerly, started pulling items out. When he raised his eyes
from the task, they were moist and reddened. “Thank you.”
Jack just smiled and told Daniel where he’d be if needed
anything. He wasn’t even sure that Daniel heard as he had already re-immersed
himself in his past.
As he poured himself a drink, Jack pondered just how much
Daniel had gotten under his skin in the few days they’d known each other. Of
course, he smiled ruefully; you got to learn a lot about people when they woke
you up screaming at night. He realized that he cared very deeply for Daniel and
was immensely pleased that Daniel no longer flinched at his touch. He gave
Daniel a few hours alone with the past he couldn’t remember and then figured
that it was time to bring him back to the present.
Jack didn’t think that Daniel had heard either his knock
or his entrance, sitting on the floor as he was, surrounded by his parents’
belongings. It was obvious that he had been crying, but his eyes were dry now.
Before Jack could speak, Daniel looked up, meeting his eyes squarely as he
stated a firm, “Thank you, Jack.”
Pleased that Daniel had used his given name, Jack just
nodded his acknowledgement, then turned to leave, saying, "Come on."
At Daniel’s “Where?”, his only response was a cocky grin.
Daniel clambered off the floor to follow him, wondering
where they were going now, and soon found himself on the roof looking at a
spectacular sunset.
“Wow!" he said, leaning on the battlements. Jack leaned on
the wall beside him. Without turning to look at Jack, Daniel asked softly, “Do
you think they’d have been proud of me?”
With no hesitation at all, Jack answered equally softly
“Very proud, Daniel.”
Daniel flashed Jack a shy half smile, then sobered and
stared back at the beautiful light show. “I can’t do this alone, Jack. I don’t
know what to do.”
Jack reached out and put a tentative hand on Daniel’s
nape. “You won’t be alone.”
“But the war...”
“I’ve spent half my life looking for you, Daniel. Did you
think I was just going to leave?” Jack gave Daniel’s neck a gentle squeeze. This
time there was nothing shy in the smile aimed Jack’s way. It lit up Daniel’s
whole face, and it was a smile that Jack resolved to see a lot more of.
As Daniel turned to the sunset again, his face was
unreadable.
“Danny?” Jack enquired gently, wondering what his new
friend was thinking.
Daniel didn’t turn to face Jack, instead tentatively moved
deeper into his touch. He felt safe with Jack. His touch brought nothing but
comfort, and was definitely not unpleasant. It was a feeling he could get used
to, and judging from his body’s reaction, one he welcomed.
When Jack just shifted his grip, gently caressing the path
from Daniel’s neck to his shoulder, he pulled him close, giving his support with
the promise of so much more, if Daniel wanted it.
Daniel's body fully relaxed, and he sighed out a very
soft, “I'm home.”
But Jack heard and tightened his grip. “Yeah,” quietly
agreed. Home.
contact Nikki:
feedback@pepesplace.co.uk
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