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muiitoloko · 3 months

Text

My Commoner

Summary: Sarah, a healer with common origins, embarks on a mission alongside the arrogant and disdainful Sir Rickman to locate and confront a witch who poses a threat to the kingdom.

Pairing: Knight!Alan Rickman × Commoner!OC

Warning: Power dynamics, mistreatment, and a power imbalance between characters.

Author's Notes: I don't know if I'll do more chapters of this and turn it into a series, the fanfic got lost in my drafts and I decided to post it after changing some things, I'm going through a bad period of author's block. Who knows, it might help me write more if you guys like this.

Sarah, feeling the weight of exhaustion, continued to watch over Sir Rickman as he slept. Two days had passed since they embarked on the treacherous journey, and it had been exactly two days since Sarah last closed her eyes. Commanded to keep watch while the knight rested, Sarah's weariness was evident, but her duty compelled her to remain vigilant.

As the moon cast its silvery glow over the campsite, Sarah fought against the heaviness in her eyelids. The rustling of leaves and distant sounds of the night seemed to taunt her with the promise of sleep. Yet, the relentless command echoed in her mind – to stay awake and alert for any potential danger.

Sarah, a commoner and a servant of King Robert's castle, found herself thrust into the unforgiving world beyond the castle walls. Her knowledge of healing had marked her as a valuable asset for this quest against the witch tormenting the kingdoms. However, her role was far from prestigious; she was a mere watcher, assigned to keep the arrogant and ruthless Sir Alan Rickman safe during his rest.

Sir Rickman, the best knight in King Robert II's service, embodied the disdainful attitude that many nobles held toward commoners. Sarah, despite her healing abilities, was no exception to his scorn. The journey had become an arduous test of endurance, with Sir Rickman's threats hanging over her head.

The campfire flickered, casting dancing shadows that played tricks on Sarah's tired eyes. She couldn't shake the weariness that settled in her bones, the desperate desire to surrender to sleep. But she dared not defy Sir Rickman's command, for the consequences were dire – the threat of her life being severed by the sharp edge of his blade.

As the night wore on, Sarah's mind wavered between the urgency of her duty and the overwhelming pull of sleep. She watched Sir Rickman's figure, his snores filling the night air. In the quiet moments, her thoughts wandered to her life within the castle, where she was raised by maids, devoid of knowledge about her parents and bearing no surname.

Sir Rickman, married to Princess Margaret, the daughter of King Robert II, held a position of power. His disdain for his wife and his arrogant demeanor extended to all commoners, treating them as beneath his notice. Despite this, Sarah, bound by duty and a sense of survival, had little choice but to endure his presence and heed his commands.

The forest, alive with nocturnal sounds, became a surreal backdrop to Sarah's struggle against sleep. Her eyelids drooped, and her senses dulled, but the fear of consequences kept her on the edge of wakefulness. The moon, an indifferent witness to her plight, continued its silent journey across the night sky.

Sarah, the commoner who had lived her entire life within the castle's confines, now found herself entangled in a perilous quest. The hunt for the witch held the promise of danger, but the immediate threat came from the very man she was tasked to watch over.

As the night deepened, Sarah's weariness reached its peak. The struggle between her need for rest and the peril of disobedience intensified. The distant hoots of an owl seemed to echo the warnings in her mind, a reminder of the precarious balance between survival and sacrifice.

In the early hours of the morning, Alan awoke to the feeble glow of the campfire. His eyes focused on Sarah, the commoner who had struggled to keep the flames alive through the night. The warmth that once flickered in the fire now waned, mirroring the tension between the knight and the reluctant guardian of the common folk.

As Sarah began to stir the remnants of the fire to life, Alan sat up, the creaking of his armor punctuating the quiet morning. Adjusting the leather straps and securing his sword, he cast a disdainful gaze upon the commoner attending to the campsite.

"Leave this," he grumbled, dismissing her efforts. "Go wake up and feed the horses. We'll be leaving soon, and I won't tolerate delays."

Sarah, her movements slowed by the lingering exhaustion, managed a tired acknowledgment. She attempted to shake off the remnants of sleep from her eyes before venturing toward the horses tethered nearby. The silent exchange spoke volumes – an arrogant knight demanding obedience, and a commoner navigating the delicate balance between duty and survival.

While Sarah attended to the horses, Alan stood, his armor gleaming in the dim light of dawn. The air carried the tension between them, a silent battlefield where each gesture and command reinforced the hierarchy that defined their roles.

"Make haste, commoner," Alan barked, his impatience evident. "We've wasted enough time."

Sarah, her response muffled by the distance, simply nodded and continued with her assigned tasks. The morning sun began to cast its golden hues across the landscape, painting a deceptive facade of serenity over the underlying conflict.

As the sun began to cast its morning glow over the clearing, Alan surveyed their surroundings with a calculated gaze. The knowledge of their route was etched in his mind, and the village awaited them in three days. A subtle confidence crept into his demeanor, his certainty in the path ahead evident.

Amidst the quiet anticipation, Sarah approached the knight, her voice respectful yet cautious. "The horses are ready, Sir Rickman. Would you desire something to break your fast?"

Alan, seemingly disinterested, questioned, "Do we still have fruit in our bags?"

Sarah nodded, confirming, "Yes, we do."

"Then we shall eat that to break the fast," Alan declared, a command that brooked no argument. The practicality of sustenance took precedence over any consideration for comfort.

As Sarah attended to the provisions, Alan's gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon, his mind undoubtedly focused on the impending journey. The delicate dance between the commoner and the knight continued, the unspoken power dynamics woven into their every interaction.

The morning unfolded, painting the scene with hues of gold, while the duo prepared to resume their quest. The village, a distant promise on the horizon, held the key to unraveling the mysteries surrounding the witch tormenting the kingdoms. Yet, for Sarah, it also held the potential for a reprieve from the nightly struggles in the open wilderness.

The journey pressed on, a relentless march toward the elusive resolution that lingered on the horizon. Alan, mounted on his steed, exuded authority, and Sarah, the reluctant guardian, navigated the complexities of servitude with resilience born from necessity.

As they set forth, the horses carrying them towards the destiny that awaited in the village, the shadows of the forest whispered tales of both peril and possibility. The dichotomy of their roles lingered, a silent undercurrent that shaped the narrative of this unlikely partnership against the backdrop of a medieval realm.

Sarah rode behind Alan while eating an apple, trying desperately not to fall asleep. Two days of riding non-stop, two days without sleep, were starting to take their toll. Hesitant, Sarah glanced at Sir Rickman, swallowing her pride before asking if she could pose a question.

Alan arrogantly replied, "You're already asking a question, commoner. Spit it out."

Gathering her courage, Sarah finally voiced her plea, "Sir Rickman, may we stop to rest? I am weary, and my eyes can barely stay open. A moment to sleep would do me good."

Abruptly stopping his horse, Alan turned his steed around to face her. Sarah quickly pulled on her horse's reins, the tiredness evident in her eyes as she met Alan's gaze. The air grew tense as the knight regarded her request.

"You dare ask for rest?" Alan sneered, his disdain cutting through the weariness. "We have a task to accomplish, and your trivial need for sleep shall not delay us."

Sarah, undeterred, spoke with a firmness that defied her common status, "Sir Rickman, I am but human, and exhaustion plagues even the strongest. A brief rest will rejuvenate me, ensuring I can continue to serve as your watcher effectively."

Alan's eyes bore into Sarah, his disdain palpable. "Who do you think you are, a Lady?" he spat with arrogance. "You're nothing more than a filthy and worthless commoner. If you believe for a moment that I will halt the entire journey for your rest, you are sorely mistaken. You must learn your place."

Sarah, feeling anger bubbling within, her exhaustion momentarily overshadowed by defiance, responded in a tone that surprised even herself. "Sir Rickman, I may be a commoner, but I am not without value. A well-rested watcher is more useful to you than one who collapses from exhaustion. Allow me a brief respite, and I assure you, I will fulfill my duty more effectively."

Alan dismounted his horse, the clinking of his armor accentuating the tension. He walked towards Sarah, pulling her abruptly from her horse. Sarah, caught off guard, let out a startled scream, her apple dropping to the ground as Alan's grip tightened.

"Did you dare to question me?" Alan growled, towering over her. "Know your place, commoner. Your worth is in your silence and obedience."

Sarah, fear coursing through her, stammered, "I... I meant no disrespect, Sir Rickman. I only thought..."

Alan interrupted with a harsh laugh. "You thought? Commoners like you don't think. You obey. This journey is not about your comfort; it's about fulfilling your duty. Now, pick up that apple and tend to the horses. We move on."

As Sarah, shaken and subdued, retrieved the fallen apple, the power dynamics between the arrogant knight and the commoner became even more pronounced. The journey continued, the shadows of the forest concealing the struggles and conflicts that unfolded beneath the surface of their uneasy alliance.

The duo rode for another two hours, Sarah silently enduring the weariness that clung to her every movement. Alan, seemingly impervious to exhaustion, abruptly halted and dismounted his horse. Sarah, following suit, avoided questioning his odd decision to stop while it was still daylight.

Tying the horses to a nearby tree, Sarah tended to their needs, ensuring they were fed. Approaching Alan, who sat against a tree with an air of impatience, she cautiously inquired, "Sir Rickman, is there anything you require?"

Alan, arms crossed and gaze fixed ahead, grumbled, "Rest, commoner. You'll be of no use if you collapse from fatigue."

Surprised by his unexpected consideration, Sarah nodded gratefully and sought a quiet corner to rest after lighting a fire. As she settled down, the fatigue that had been haunting her finally caught up. The forest, once a daunting backdrop, became a cocoon of tranquility as she succumbed to the embrace of much-needed sleep.

As the hours passed, the sun descended, relinquishing its throne to the moon and stars. Alan, true to his relentless nature, maintained a vigilant watch over the campsite. The crackling fire cast flickering shadows on his weathered face, the lines etched by years of unwavering service to the crown.

Observing the commoner, Sarah, sleeping peacefully, Alan grunted, acknowledging the necessity of allowing her rest. However, any semblance of compassion was swiftly denied within the fortress of his pride. His decision to let her rest was not born out of concern for her well-being but rather a calculated move to preserve her functionality for the mission.

"Commoner or not, she serves a purpose," Alan muttered to himself, as if reaffirming the transactional nature of their alliance. The fire's glow reflected in his steely eyes, concealing the complexities that lay beneath the armor of a seasoned knight.

The moon ascended higher, and the stars adorned the night sky like distant witnesses to the unfolding drama. Alan, driven by an unyielding commitment to the mission, rose from his seated position. He surveyed the surroundings with the precision of a seasoned warrior, ensuring that no threat lurked in the shadows.

As he tended to the fire, sparks dancing into the darkness, Alan's thoughts remained fixed on the impending confrontation with the witch. The well-being of a commoner was inconsequential in the grand scheme of things. It was the success of the mission that dictated every decision, every sacrifice.

Denying himself the acknowledgment of any sentiment towards Sarah, Alan brooded over the strategic aspects of their journey. He pondered the upcoming challenges, the terrain, and the potential traps laid by the elusive witch. The weight of past victories bore down on him, and failure was an outcome he deemed unacceptable.

As the fire crackled and the night deepened, Alan's stern countenance betrayed no hint of the internal conflict spurred by his decision to allow Sarah rest. The commoner's fate, like that of others beneath his station, was inconsequential when weighed against the success of the mission.

In the quiet hours of the night, as the moon held its silent vigil and the stars whispered tales of both conquest and sacrifice, Alan's gaze lingered on the slumbering figure of Sarah. Her vulnerability, hidden in the peaceful reprieve of sleep, went unnoticed by the knight who only saw her as a means to an end.

With the fire casting its glow upon him, Alan steeled himself against any sentiment that threatened to cloud his judgment. The quietude of the forest embraced the dichotomy of their roles – the arrogant knight and the commoner bound by duty, both navigating the treacherous path towards an uncertain destiny.

#alan rickman #knight #Middle Ages #alan rickman x reader #Alan rickman x oc #a more vibe #Severus Snape #with #judge turpin

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