Author: XxFleurdelySxX PM
ROMY, AU. In 1155, young Lady Constance leaves her father's castle in Blaye to join the court of Eleanor of Aquitaine, in England. She lands in a colorful world of troubadours, poets... and knights...Rated: Fiction T - English - Romance - Chapters: 3 - Words: 8,674 - Reviews: 56 - Favs: 13 - Follows: 7 - Updated: 01-22-04 - Published: 09-27-03 - id: 1537212
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/U : Hello! Remember me? Fleur? I used to write stories here… *sigh* I know. I'm ashamed for being such a terrible writer, and leaving you alone without updates, but hey, I was… hmmm, well, I don't really have a good excuse for it, and I feel bad cause you probably all forgot about me and won't review. Heck, I deserved it. But I would really appreciate if you reviewed, though… please? To show fleur you aren't too angry at her?? *flutters her eyelashes* Perty please?
Disclaimer : Remy and Rogue aren't mine, and neither are any other Xmen cameo you could meet in the story (duh. If they were mine, would I really be writing on fanfiction.net? Naah. I'd be rich.) Most of the other characters are historical characters, so they aren't mine either, and I tried to base their attitude on what books say. Loanna of Grimwald isn't mine, she's a character from a book of Marielle Calmel. Thus, you guessed, not mine. So, everybody understood I'm not making a looney out of this?
And now for the reviews…
foofighta : Hey beauté, look at what I did! I UPDATED! I UPLOADED A CHAPTER! You've made me a bad author with all our swell stories and obsessions (boy I hope nobody else reads that, it really sounds weird), but you leave for a few days, and I'm all miserable and bored in front of my silent computer. No dings. *tear* Well, your absence made me feel guilty, and gave me enough despair to go look for my medieval muse and get her out of the closet. After a hot bath and a big bowl of vanilla ice cream, she was rid of the dust, and as good as new, and I sat down and wrote. Felt so strange writing about Remy and Rogue again. I mean, Remy is a lot like Lou, but Rogue is nothing like *cough, cough*. Now, about your review (you might have to go and re-read it…), yes, I made Remy tall in this story, and yes, I always pictured him as being tall. Then again, considering the height most people had in Medieval times (5'4, 5'5, for a normal man), he probably isn't 6 feet tall, otherwise he'd be a giant. And YES, he has brown eyes. He wouldn't be alive, let alone a knight, if he had devil eyes. His parents would've burned him the moment he opened his eyes for the first time. Oh yeah, and you didn't like the ponytail? I got rid of it for you, see at the end of the chapter… Did I mention I love Abe?
Igamblelife : Well gee, I guess I wasn't that subtle, was I? *grin* A PLOT? Hahaha, probably, it's been so long since I've written anything, I don't even remember what happened in chapter 2…*checks* Oooooooh, yeah, that. Hmm. Well, I'm going to have to do something about that in the next chapter, but for now, fluff and fun are enough.
ishandahalf : BE HAPPY! Can I get a tiny…hmmm… silver star for updating? And I'll be honest, you made me feel MIGHTY guilty for not updating with your great story, and the huge amount of reviews you got made me dead jealous of you. I hope this chapter was worth the wait (I hope so, I even made it longer than usual for your pleasure!), well probably not worth a two months wait… *blushes* And no, don't worry, I won't make Rogue a fragile and weak girl, she's still Rogue, only in a different time and circumstances. On with the fluff! I know! I know I managed to get a plot in, but I pushed it aside for this chapter. Hope you don't mind too much…. *grin*
WarmerThanFire : Well, you don't have to be sorry for not reviewing sooner, and I don't have to be sorry for not updating in two (was that three?) months. Deal?
Samm16 : *shivers in fear, curling up in foetal position in her chair* I'm so sorry (I feel like I'm saying this a lot here)…sorreeee… here's more! And more… some other time!
velvetine*rose, VA-river-gal, Caliente, sweet-chick3, Yumiko, Calliann, Panther Nesmith, TheWalrusWasPaul, Becki, ChaosCat : *looks at the ground in shame, avoiding her faithful reviewers' eyes* I'm so sorry. Mea culpa. Blame it on foofighta. Blame it on my independent muse. I'm nothing but an innocent victim in this story… Thanks for the encouragement, though, even if I turned into a senseless evil never-updating writer these lasts months...
A little reminder, so you won't have to re-read the first two chapters :
Constance is Rogue (for those who haven't noticed), who moved to England, at the castle of King Henry and Queen Eleanor of Aquitaine, in 1155. There she witnesses a tournament where a mysterious knight fights for her. She meets him later, helmet-less, and her knees go weak as she looks for the first time in Remy de Fontainevrault's eyes. The feeling is mutual, and they meet again for a walk in the royal gardens. They were getting along fine when a mysterious crazy masked guy pops in, with the intention of killing Constance, before being fought back by Remy. They decide to go back to the castle, but not before she thanks him with a kiss.
They walked their way back through the gardens, Remy's hand on the hilt of his sword. She chuckled. "You know what I wanted to be when I was a child, Remy? I would sit on a bench as the young boys would play with wooden swords, pretending they were knights fighting for a belle." She smiled, looking up at him. "So many times I walked to them, asking if I could play too. It made my mother angry, saying it wasn't worthy of a respectable lady. But I didn't want to be a lady. I wanted to be a knight." He looked down at her, a smirk on his lips.
"And did you fight, Constance? If I remember my childhood right, I doubt we would've let a girl fight with us."
She shook her head, still smiling. "No, they kept laughing at me, saying I was a girl, and that girls weren't supposed to fight. That they were made to be beautiful and fragile, and that men were meant to protect them." She sighed. "They made me so angry I slapped one of them."
He laughed. "So you never learned to fight with a sword?"
"I managed to get my hand on an old sword, with a blunt blade, and mimicked the moves I saw the knights do. I never really learned, though."
Music came to their ears as they approached the bal room and she gave a little sigh, not sure if she wanted to go back to the chatting and squealing ladies instead of staying with Remy. They stopped near the door, and she looked up at him, suddenly feeling shy. He smiled. "Would you like to learn, milady? Or would you rather dance?"
She frowned, "Learn?" Her eyes widened. "Sword fighting?"
"Mmhmm," he answered with a smile, and took a few steps back from the door. "If you will just follow me, lady Cons…"
"Constance," she interrupted him, rolling her eyes, following his steps as he walked through the dark halls until they reached the armor room. He opened the door for her and she stepped in, opening her eyes wide at the sight of the armors and arms all around the room. She slowly walked to the swords, amazed, and ran a hand on the blades. Her hand stopped on the longest one. It was thinner than usual, but longer, the hold made of a magnificent gold decorated with silvery strings. The counterweight on the hilt was decorated with a red sun, and she ran a delicate finger on the decoration. Smiling, she held the hold with both hands, and lifted it with a small grunt.(1) She let the sword fall forward, the tip of the blade touching the ground with a clank, and Remy stood in front of her.
"A longer blade is a good choice, Constance. The distance of the reach is what saves your life."
She chuckled, raising an eyebrow at him. "Are you telling me I have short arms?"
He smiled, and nodded. "With all due respect, Lady Constance, you wouldn't survive a fight with a short blade." She laughed and took a step back, raising her blade a few feet over the ground.
"I probably wouldn't survive a fight at all, sir Remy, no matter the length of my blade."
He laughed softly, unsheathing his own sword. "Then we have to make sure, Constance, that you can." She nodded as he moved his sword in a large bow, his blade meeting hers with a small sound. She looked up at him, smiling, but he shook his head. "The blade, Constance. You can never let yourself take your eyes off the blade and the arms holding it. If you're not strong enough to hit someone stronger than you, you must block. Hold it in a diagonal line, yes, like that, and brace your arms to take the hit. Higher, Constance, you have to hold your blade higher than that."
She sighed and raised it more, the tip of her blade hovering at the same height than her eyes. He nodded, and raised his. She could feel the muscles in her arms scream out in pain as she stood, waiting nervously for him to move. He talked again, though, almost making her sigh, annoyed. "You have to make sure your blade is perpendicular with the other blade when you block it. If it's not, then the blades might slip and hurt you seriously. Let's try." He drew back his arms and brought down his blade, aiming for her chest. She let out a surprised yelp and raised her arms, bringing the blade up to block his hit. The blades collided with a loud clank, and she felt the hit echoing through her muscles. She let out a moan as she lowered her blade, taking a few steps back. She glared at him, suddenly angry. "Did you have to hit so hard?"
He raised his eyebrows, cocking his head to the side. He looked serious all of a sudden, and she realized that this, what she had considered a game, was serious stuff for him. "A hit like that would barely cut through the layers of your dress, Constance. Put power in your block, push away the other blade. If the hit comes from the left, then turn your body to the left," he said, showing her by doing it himself, "and make sure your blade crosses the other. Don't stop the movement, or your arms won't be able to take the hit, and it'll hurt." The corners of his lips turned up. "Like it just did."
She swallowed. "And how could I hurt anybody, if all I know is blocking?"
"By letting him get tired. It is much more difficult, and demands more effort, to hit than to block. Once someone is tired, he concentrates less on the battle, and more on his hits. It is easier, then, to take a swing on his left side, the fastest, and easiest way to the heart," he said in an even voice. She smiled.
"This isn't the first time you explain this. But you have a student. Robert, I think?"
He smirked. "And you thought you were the only lady who wants to learn to fight, Constance?"
She froze, raising her blade, and narrowed her eyes. "This is what you call love court? This isn't a regular way of courting a lady, sir Remy."
"I'm not a regular knight, Lady Constance." He raised an eyebrow, moving his sword from left to right, making the blade catch the light from the torches lighting the room. "I thought you already noticed that."
She smiled, turning into a fighting stance. "And I'm not a regular lady, sir knight. I want to practice those blockings again."
He smiled and took a few steps forward, aiming for her right side. She did as he had told her, and slowly began to understand what he meant by pushing the blade, as she slowly got the hang of it. She could tell he wasn't hitting harder than necessary, but it was enough, and her arms hurt. It hurt less and less, though, and she didn't take her eyes off the blade, and the arms holding it. Everything else around her became a blur as she raised her arms to block a high hit, lowering it immediately when his blade swung from under, aiming for her side, the sound of the blades colliding almost sounding as music to her ears. She could hear her heart beat madly in her chest, and her shoulders began to throb painfully with the effort. With a last groan, she took a swing, aiming at his shoulder, and he raised his sword, the blades scraping with a loud creak. Her moist hands lost hold of the sword, and it fell on the ground with a clank. She took a step back, closing her eyes and putting a hand to her chest, panting heavily as blood rushed in her veins.
She opened her eyes after a moment to stare in his soft brown eyes, and he smiled, putting his sword back in its sheath and walking to her. "You still need practise, Lady Constance. But you have skills," he said softly, not taking his eyes off hers. Her breath was still short, though not from the physical effort anymore, as she felt his presence, his heat, near her own body. Something flashed in his eyes as he noticed it too, and she barely had the time to register the fact that he was moving before he crushed his mouth on hers.
Her heart missed a beat, but her body knew what to do, and her arms went automatically around his neck as his wrapped themselves around her waist. Her fingers dugs in his hair, messing up his low ponytail, and making his soft auburn locks fall around her face, and he deepened the kiss, his soft tongue pushing further in her mouth. She greeted it with a small moan, feeling the cold wall against her back, his hot breath against her cheek, and his strong body pressed against hers. His hands moved from her back to her sides, only to freeze there as a polite cough from the door made them break the kiss, and snap their head at the door.
Loanna (2) stood there, a small smile on her lips as she politely looked at the ground. Remy stepped back and Constance blushed, straightening up her dress. Loanna looked back at her, amusement lighting her eyes. "The Queen is looking for you, Lady Constance."
(1) Steel hadn't been invented in the middle ages yet, so swords were made of iron, just like the full plate armors you see in movies. No aluminium here. They made the swords big and heavy, too, so that the hits would actually hurt the other person, so a sword usually weighted from 15 to 25 pounds. Not something you use single handed, even for an experienced knight. As for the armors, they're absent from this story, simply because they weren't used yet, of very rarely, in 1155, as mentioned in the first chapter. Chain mail suits were still used in those years, and will be until the XIIth century.
(2) Check chapter 2: Loanna of Grimwald is Queen Eleanor's first lady (read: confident and best friend).
Mini note for ish : I'll take that 'Queen of fluff' title back, please! *grabs the title and tries to yank it out of ish's greedy hands* But if you want, you get to be a Princess of fluff. Deal? *grins and hugs the title against her chest* my prrrrrrrrrrecioussss…
Could you guess I'm making this out as it comes? I have NO idea what's coming up…
To be continued… Soon, hopefully ;-)