For King and Country Ch.2 (England x Reader)

A/N:

(y/m/n) is your male name.

That's it for this chapter.

You may continue reading...

~*~

King Arthur!England x Lady Knight!Reader

For King and Country

Chapter 2


The world around you came in brief flashes. Images and sounds flooded your senses in nonsensical patterns. You could hear voices and…the jingling of tack? That couldn’t be right, you were dead.

You struggled against your suddenly heavy eyelids, desperately trying to catch a glimpse of your surroundings. Your fingers and toes smarted and your throat felt ragged and raw. Shouldn’t death be a little more peaceful? It certainly shouldn’t be this uncomfortable.

You grimaced, finding it harder and harder to remain in this state of limbo.  The world around you began to swim in and out of focus, the garbled sounds taking on more and more clarity as you railed against your latent state.  

“A village to the south... No survivors… Saxon raiders…”

You groaned internally, taking note of all your weary muscles. Your fingers twitched in agitation as you tried to move your arms. Slowly, movement returned and you were able to fist your hands into the sheets beneath you… wait, sheets?

With a ragged gasp, you were able to force your eyes open, ignoring the slight stinging caused by forcefully wrenching them apart after being closed for so long. You blinked, trying to bring everything into focus, but your head was still slightly fuzzy and the room around you indistinct. The burning in your throat suddenly swelled to nearly intolerable levels, demanding water.

You begun to struggle upright, searching for something to quell your thirst. No sooner had you begun to move, than a face appeared above you, wavering into focus.

“Easy now, lad.”

The man laid a large hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down into the straw mat you were laid on. You tried to speak, but your cracked lips soundlessly flapped open and closed, much akin to those of a dying fish. In desperation, your eyes met his, trying to communicate your desires, as there was no way for your voice to convey what you wanted.

Whether by intuition or actually understanding your wordless plea, the man turned to retrieve a flask. With deft fingers, he uncorked the bottle and placed it against your lips, allowing the water to flow into your parched mouth. You drank greedily, trying to curb the aching in your throat. The man chuckled, pulling the water back and putting it away.

“If ye drink it all in one swig, ye’ll make yerself sick. And wouldn’t that be a shame too, after pullin’ ye from the snow, all frozen and half dead.”

You could see now that you were in some kind of tent, not the snowy wilderness of the forest. Sunlight filtered through the canvas walls, illuminating the interior with a soft glow. Questions filled your mind. However, given that you were still unable to move from your cot, you simply gave the man an odd look, cocking your head to the side.

“Oh, pardon me, I seem to have neglected introductions. The name’s Allistor Kirkland, at yer service.”

The man stood and struck out in a jesting bow, a sparkle of humor in his eyes as he addressed you. He had a kindly face and appeared to be about twenty years of age. A white shirt and leather jerkin overlay a set of thickly woven trousers tucked into worn dark brown boots that gave him the appearance of a traveler, but his most extraordinary feature was a shock of red hair that contrasted dramatically with his emerald eyes.  

“And just who might you be, little master?”

You opened your mouth again as if to speak, but once again found that your voice had abandoned you. Not even a squeak made it past your lips and you closed your eyes, dejected. Unconsciously, your hand sought your throat and rested against it. Some understanding passed across Allistor’s features and he came once again to kneel by your bedside.

“Ey, cheer up lad. If some wee brownie’s¹ got yer voice there’s no use frettin’ about it now.”

You looked up, slightly confused by the redhead’s assumption, but all traces of confusion left when you realized he was only joking to lift your spirits. You could tell that he was an easy tempered man, quick to joke and have a laugh. Simply being around him made you want to smile as well. The edges of your lips quivered in an attempt to return his merriment, but your resulting facial expression looked more like a grimace than a grin. Allistor blinked at you and then chuckled anyway, patting your head.

“There’s a good lad. Now, what shall we call you? We can’t jus’ go ‘round callin’ ya ‘boy’ all the time, ‘scamp’ or ‘shrimp’ perhaps, but ‘boy’ ‘s too generic.”  

Allistor tapped his chin as if in deep thought.

“Might we call you ‘Alan’ or ‘John’?”

You grimaced a little at those names. True, you may have to live as a boy from now on, but you at least wanted to have a good name.

“How about ‘George the Magnificent’?”

You simply raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘really?’. Allistor threw up his hands in frustration.

“Well I don’t know! What about (y/m/n)? Is that good enough for ye?”

(y/m/n), hmm? Now that you thought about it, (y/m/n) certainly did have a nice ring to it. It just felt right. You looked up at Allistor again, giving him one of your kind-of smiles, and nodded your approval.

“Well then, (y/m/n),” Allistor stood, stretching out his back as he did so. “Ye’d better git yer rest. We’ll be breaking camp in three days time and then it’s off to King Uther’s kingdom, which is another five days ride from here.”

You suddenly felt exhausted and couldn’t struggle against your heavy eyelids any longer. With a small sigh, you steeled back into the mat you were lying on and resigned yourself to sleep. At the flap of the tent, Allistor turned o glimpse your already snoozing form. He couldn’t help the small endearing smile that crossed his lips.

“Sleep well, lad.”

And with that, he stepped out.

~*~

The days passed quickly and you soon found your self up and about, helping Allistor and the rest of his camp pack up for the remaining journey. Almost two full days rest and some broth after you initially woke up was all it took to bring back your strength. Truthfully, you could have gotten up after only a single day’s rest, but Allistor wouldn’t hear of it. Now you found yourself running around, doing menial tasks to assist the other folk of the group.

Apparently, the people who had taken you in were travellers from the north. There were about three-and-twenty, including you, although almost half of that number was women and young children. Some of the others were craftsmen, or young men who were looking for a better life; there was even a bard amongst the group, but all traveled to Camelot in pursuit of their own desires.  

“Lad…Lad? (y/m/n)!”

You jumped a bit, nearly dropping the basket you were carrying. Whipping your head to the side, you caught Allistor’s trademark chuckle as he brushed down his mount, preparing for the long road ahead.

“I thought fer sure ye were lookin’ at some old spunkie², the way ye were gazin’ off inta the forest. Best not be goin’ an’ steppin’ in any old fairy rings. T’would be a shame to loose m’ little helper now tha’ he’s back on his feet.”

You simply rolled your eyes at your friend’s peculiar sense of humor, and rushed off to find the lady who had given you the particular chore of fetching the basket.

By midday the entire caravan was packed and ready to go. Many of the group were on foot or rode in crude carts drawn by cattle, but those fortunate enough to have horses rode near the front, occasionally setting out as scouts to judge the way forward. Having a horse himself, Allistor took on the role of scout once or twice in the course of your first day’s journey, but most other times he was content to keep pace next to where you were seated on a pack pony.

The first day of travelling was a long and arduous. Your legs ached from sitting astride the pony for so long and the weather was continuing to cool. Once again, you had your blue cloak around your shoulders, and one of the travellers had given you an additional shirt to stave off the chill. Allistor too had donned more protective winter gear in efforts of staying warm. Like you, he had a woolen cloak wrapped about his shoulders; only his was a deeper navy color than that of your faded scrap. You also noticed that he had dual white leather scabbards slung athwart his shoulders to form an ‘X’ on his chest.

Your own sword remained close to your person, although it was strapped to your saddle rather than your body. Reverently, you brushed your fingers along the beveled edge of the hilt, taking in the decorative edges. Father to son, isn’t that what your papa always said? Oh how the gods must be laughing right now. The only child of your father’s lineage, a girl, forced to dress as a boy.

“Whatcha got there, laddie?”

Allistor’s voice broke into your quiet thoughts as he reined his horse into place beside you. You had been so deep in thought that you almost didn’t hear him return from his scouting expedition. Looking down again in sadness, one of your hands rested on the hilt of your sword while the other pressed against your heart, where your mother’s stone lay hidden underneath.

“Did tha’ belong t’ yer da?”

You offered a single nod in the affirmative. Despite your questionable appearance to the camp, nobody ad interrogated you to thoroughly. Allistor gave out a low whistle, admiring the obvious quality of the blade, even from a few meters away.

“My father never gae me anythin’ near as nice as tha’. The only thin’ he ever gae in his life was a bairn³ t’ me mother… an’ then he left, gone like the bawbag⁴ he was.”

You could tell that he was upset. It was unusual to see the laughter gone from Allistor’s green eyes, but there he was, a little cloud of grey amidst the already dreary weather. You reached a hand across the space between your mounts, and patted his hand comfortingly. He glanced towards you with a saddened smile, which you returned in kind.

After that, his mood seemed to lighten and many miles were passed listening to his lighthearted chatter. He would tell jokes and stories, earning small smiles from you in return. He even sang, surprising you with his pleasant voice.  The whole caravan was merry, delighting in each other’s company. While they had welcomed you into their number with open arms, it did little to dull the aching of your own heart.


~*~

Three days passed, settling into a rhythm of camping and riding. The weather continued to worsen although no more snow had fallen since the night you were found. The company traveled southwest, along the base of a mountain range that was both regal and imposing. The air around the mountain seemed to crackle with some sort of energy that sent chills down your spine whenever you looked at it. The very woods upon its slopes seemed darker than the rest, and there were times when you swore you saw shapes moving amidst the shadows.

You nudged Allistor once, looking pointedly at a humanoid shade that felt like it was looking back at you from between the trees. Glancing in the direction you were looking, Allistor quickly turned his attention back to the road.

“’s best not to stare, lad. It’ll only encourage them, and ye don’ wanna attract the attention of the Unseelie⁵ if ye can help it.”

Suppressing a shudder, you tore your eyes away from the forest, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of something watching you.

Noon arrived and nothing else had caught your attention, or rather, you stubbornly ignored the things hovering at the corner of your vision. One of the scouts returned, reporting a small stream just ahead, and the company made plans to halt for midday meal. Minutes later, you found yourself seated on a fallen log next to Allistor, munching on an apple from one of the saddlebags. You still felt uneasy. The atmosphere around the camp was too quiet, and the animals fidgeted relentlessly. It was similar to the feeling you would get before a large storm struck your village.

The stillness was shattered by a flock of birds taking off, their cawing, a cacophonous racket that filled the air. Tension ran amongst the group as they turned a weary eye to the surroundings. The sound of cracking wood and crunching bracken followed the unexpected din; only this had the sound of a much larger creature moving at a much faster pace.

A blood-curdling roar sounded out as a large black creature broke from the line of trees. It moved straight for the horses that were tied, and unable to escape as it swiped at one, opening a large gash in its side. The screams of people and horses filled the air as the beast continued its attack. The noise, the panic, it was all too familiar. Your vision blurred and in an instant you were back in your village witnessing the chaos.

So lost were you to your own horrors that you didn’t hear Allistor shouting for you to move as the creature turned his gaze toward you. What was a black steed in your memory was in actuality a gigantic black bear with flaming red eyes. From across the clearing it looked at you, just as the man had looked at you on the night your parents were slain. Your sight blurred between past and present, casting your opponent into different roles. Now a bear, now a man, and back and forward.

At once, the bear rushed toward you in a galloping run, intent on spilling your blood. It was only a sudden impact from the side that sent you sprawling out of he bear’s destructive path.

“What on earth were ye thinkin’ of, lad?! Have ye gon’ completely daft?!”

You became aware of Allistor’s protective weight on your back as he yelled in your ear.

He must’ve been the one to push me out of the way.

Your thoughts were still dazed as Allistor continued his tirade. The sound of a huff coming from behind you brought you both back to the present situation, and you both turned to see the bear once again preparing for a charge.

By now, some of the others had gathered spears and were desperately trying to avert the bear, but the wounds made to it’s hide only seemed to enrage it more. Allistor quickly scrambled to his feet and drew one of his swords, although he knew that it would do no good against such an adversary. He stepped in front of you protectively, placing himself between you and the bear’s imminent charge.

A shrill whistle sounded above the commotion, and one of the older boys tossed a spear in Allistor’s direction. With a deadly smile, Allistor hefted the weapon in his hand, gauging its balance. Now this was a weapon he could do something with. The blessing of the spear came not a moment too soon, for in that instant, the bear broke free of the marauding folk, and charged.

Allistor kneeled, bracing the butt of the spear against the ground as he leveled the head towards the bear’s maw, wide open in mid-roar.   You closed your eyes, prepared to meet death yet again, but as before, it did not come. You peeked a single eye open to see the beast lying mere feet away from you, Allistor’s spear lodged in the bear’s throat, its spinal cord severed.

A coffee colored glove appeared in your line of sight. You looked up to where Allistor stood above you, hand extended. You reached out, accepting the gesture as he helped you to your feet.

“Tha’ was a close one, wasn’t it?”

Allistor turned towards the body of the bear, nudging it with his boot.

“T’was bewitch’d. It would be better to let the beast lie. We need to continue our journey, Camelot still lies two days ride south.”

With that, the group began to pack up.

~*~

Your company had taken to the road again, travelling quickly in hopes of leaving the mountains behind. Once again, you found yourself riding next to Allistor; only it was much quieter as you sat brooding in your own thoughts.

“What’s weighin’ on ye, lad?”

Allistor looked at you, concern eminent in his expression. You gazed down at your hands, fixed to your pony’s reins.

“Thank you.”

The words slipped from between your lips, frail as the wind between willow branches. Allistor blinked in surprise before a wide grin split his features.

“Don’ mention it, laddie.”

The two of you fell into a companionable silence then as the trail fell away behind you, and Camelot drew ever nearer.