Warnings: HAU, M/M sex, violence, swearing, angst, possible humor, blatant use of movie dialogue, OOC, varying chapter lengths. Unbeta'd
Rating:Chapters 1-25 R (For swearing and violence) Epilogue NC17 (For M/M sex.)
Pairing: 100% S/X ( S&Oz, S&Oz&Giles, X&Oz&Giles FRIENDSHIP only)
Comments: Comment if you want to, though it would be nice to know someone is reading it.
Disclaimer: I own nothing, everything belongs to someone who is not me. I write for fun not profit.
Note 1: This is derived from the movie Ladyhawke and is dedicated to two of the most handsome actors ever: James Marsters and Rutger Hauer. It is also dedicated to the memory of Othello the magnificent Friesian stallion who portrayed Goliath.
Note 2: My heartfelt thanks go out to my dear friend Bmblbee, for holding my hand through the writing and posting process. *Hugs*
Note 3: This is a plot driven story. Chapters 1 to 25 Rated R for violence and language. Epilogue (Original writing, not part of the legend or movie) Rated NC17 for MM sex.
Note 4: This is fantasy human/medieval Spike, Oz and Xander and behave as such. Although BTVs names are used, they are NOT in Sunnydale personas.
Posted on Bloodclaim with Darkhavens knowledge and support *hugs*
Summary: When the Count D’Anjou forfeits all his land and wealth gambling, his son the handsome, eighteen year old Xander is sent to live with a cousin in Aquila. It is hoped that Xander's good looks and title will attract a wealthy wife. But Xander meets William (Spike) Navarre the handsome, dashing Captain of The Guard. They fall in love. They keep their illicit love from everyone but their confessor. When they are betrayed to The Bishop of Aquila he calls down a terrible curse on the lovers. Can Daniel (Oz) Osbourne a thief and escapee from Aquila's dungeons help Spike and Xander defeat the curse?
Chapter 3/25 + Epilogue (This is not a WIP. One Chapter will be posted daily, until complete.)
Rating: 1 -25 R, EPILOGUE NC17
Chapter 3/25+ Epilogue
Rating: NC17 Overall
The moon was high and full, quite bright enough for Oz to see his way through the forest. He found a rough track of sorts and settled to a steady jog, how long he could keep it up, he didn't know.
By midnight he began to slow. Deer and rabbits scurried out of his way, owls screeched and swooped between the trees and an hour later he'd slowed to a walk. His sides ached, his chest felt tight and his legs weak. He thought about finding shelter and going to sleep, but sleeping in the forest wasn't a good idea. He had the ominious feeling of being watched, he kept turning round and looking behind him. Once or twice green eyes blinked at him and his hand curled round the handle of the stolen knife. It was a poor weapon against a bear or wolf, but it was all he had. He kept going, stumbling now and then.
Towards morning the trees thinned and he entered clearer country, grassy, rock strewn plain edged by sparse trees. It was then the eerie howling began, distant at first but growing nearer. "Wolf, wolf, please God not wolf!" He wasn't sure if the pack had picked up his trail, but the thought sent adrenalin coursing through his body and he began to run again.
Dawn broke cool and crisp. The howling died away and the countryside became more open, rocky and treeless. He was aware of climbing steadily and the temperature dropped. Soon he was running on snow and his breath hung in the still air. Despite running he shivered and hugged himself for warmth. He was exhausted and desperate for food even the hot cabbage the monks at the orphanage gave him or the moldy bread he'd fought for in the dungeons of Aquila seemed like Ambrosia at this moment.
He wanted to stop, lay down for just a minute, but if he did he knew he'd probably never get up, he'd freeze to death. By midday he was walking again, the sun had warmed things up, but he still shivered. He was aware of gently dropping and the air grew warmer.
He saw the smoke at mid afternoon. It was a shepherd's hut. Children played outside, clothes were hung to dry, a pair of boots had been left near a log and the remains of a bread and cheese lunch.
He stole the lot.
He stopped only long enough to pull on the warmer hooded, jerkin and boots the bread and cheese he ate as he jogged. Towards nightfall it grew cold again and he huddled into the jerkin and pulled up the hood.
He wasn't sure how far he'd come. He was well away from Aquila, but probably still a good few miles from Gabroche and further still from the neighboring province.
He walked on into the night.
At midnight he could go no further, he was exhausted. The moon was large and full as the previous night had been and he spied a tiny hut. It was probably one the shepherds used in the Summer when they stayed out with the flocks to protect them from marauding wolf packs. With Winter closing the flocks had been moved to lower, warmer pastures and there was no life in or around the hut. He approached with care and finding it empty went inside, curled up on the wooden floor and fell into an exhausted sleep.
It was midday when he awoke, stiff and cold. He left the hut and jogged steadily along, it was colder than it had been in Aquila but a lot warmer than the country he passed through. He reckoned he was well into the North and probably safe from pursuit. When he saw the road he decided to throw caution to the wind and trotted along it. It led straight to a small tavern.
Horses were tethered outside a stable. Men in hoods and cloaks were seated in the open air of the tavern yard drinking and eating at wooden, trestle tables . A fire burned and the keeper stacked barrels.
Oz felt good. He'd made it and the coin in his pouch weighed heavy.
"Keeper a drink of your finest!" He called.
"Yeah, yeah. Let's see your money first." The innkeeper rubbed his hands on a grubby apron. Oz jingled the copper in his pouch. "Copper my friend! And a drink for any man here who will join me in a toast!"
"Let's hear your toast." One of the seated men shouted.
"You drink to a man who has seen the dungeons of Aquila and lived to tell the tale!" Oz boasted.
"I have seen those dungeons!" Came a reply.
Oz scowled. "A blacksmith or carpenter? A stone cutter perhaps? But a prisoner..."
Angelus tossed back his hood and turned. "I didn't say I was a prisoner."
Oz's jaw dropped and his tankard fell from his hand.
"Y'know you little bastard, if you had kept to the forest, stayed off the roads you may have stood a chance." Angelus gave a cold smile.
Angelus looked bored. He turned back and took a deep draft from his tankard. "Get him!" He bellowed.
The tavern yard erupted into activity. Guards leapt to their feet, innocent patrons scrambled to safety, the guards lunged at Oz. Angelus kept on quietly drinking.
Oz dodged the grasping hands and dived under the tables. The guards groped to catch him, pushing people aside and knocking over stools and over turning tables.
Tankards flew, beer spilt, plates clattered to the ground, food got trodden underfoot. The guards drew their swords and jabbed under tables. Oz emerged and leapt up, weaving passed a guard he jumped onto the tables and ran leaping from one to the other, the guards in hot pursuit.
Angelus rolled his eyes and stood.
A guard grabbed Oz and pinned his hands behind his back, He kicked backward and wriggled and slithered down the guard's body and out of his grasp.
Guards surrounded him.
Oz leapt for some rough trellis work and began to climb out of their reach. Angelus slowly began to clap his gauntleted hands. Everyone stilled. He pointed to Oz and then the ground.
Oz jumped down and guards grabbed his arms. Oz struggled in desperation and pulled a sword from out of the guard's hand.
The blade flashed and caught Angelus across the cheek. A look of horror crossed Oz's face and he dropped the sword.
Angelus reeled and put a finger to the cut. He looked at the blood on his gauntlet and slowly smiled.
"I, I didn't mean to, I'm so terribly sorry!" Oz stammered as all color drained from his face and he began to tremble.
Angelus shrugged. "Kill the little fucker!"
The guards dragged Oz against a post and held his arms. A third, sword in hand came toward him and drew back his arm to plunge in the blade.