#remik

On the journey home to Calais, the men are able to stop in a town. Sleeping arrangements are made and Vaughn was able to acquire a sleep aid from a monk to help Remik finally get some rest.

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As Remik fell into his first solid sleep in weeks thanks to the poppy juice, Vaughn watched him closely by candlelight. The blonde man, when not wracked with guilt, was rather sweet looking. His brows no longer contorted, his forehead free of furrows. Pale eye lashes and soft pink cheeks. His long golden hair, finally brushed, moved like a river across his pillow. He was almost angelic.

Vaughn felt an emotion blossom inside his chest, one unrelated to his usual pity. It was too tender. He knew it's name but couldn't bring himself to even think it.

'I need to sleep,' He thought, 'My fatigue is making me sentimental.'

He didn't realize how close he had leaned in towards Remik until he stood up. Pushing aside the sudden embarrassment, he crawled into the other bed. The candle sitting on the small table between the two beds flickered as he arranged his blanket.

It was a rare option of sleeping arrangements for an inn, he chalked it up to their high station as knights under Lord Seraphin. Usually it would be multiple men to a bed, crammed in to make every inch count. Sometimes they would be kind enough to seperate the snorers from the silent.

For a brief moment, Vaughn found himself disappointed that he wasn't sharing Remik's bed. He sat up abruptly and blew out the candle.

'Foolishness.' He thought as he laid back. He dragged the blanket up to his chin and looked to the side. He could just barely make out the soft rise and fall of Remik's breathing in the dark.

Medieval Knights AU

Remiguisz (Regillus), or Remik as his companions call him, is an orphan of Polish immigrants, brought up in his Lord Seraphin's manor in France to be a knight. He is back from partaking in the Sack of Constantinople where he was exposed to horrors he was unprepared for.

Vaughn (Volusius) is a knight through nepotism. While skilled in his own right, he is pompous. He recently fled his home; his cousin, with help of English lords, killed his father and took his land. Sir Seraphin has put him in charge of taking care of Remik and his delicate mental state.

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July, 1206

West of Cherbourg, Normandy

The summer air was hot and heavy, nightfall brought no relief. The French soldiers and knights returned to camp, some on foot, some on horseback. Despite the heat and bloodshed there was an almost jovial feeling in the air.

The battle was over and the victor was clear. Sir Seraphin's army had slaughtered the English forces, the few surviving fled like dogs as the sun set. Sir Vaughn stood sweating in his armor at the edge of the battlefield watching the others. He was searching for one man in particular. Vaughn's eyes darted from face to face, disappointed each time. He turned to look out across the bloody field.

There was Sir Remiguisz, meandering far into the field without his helmet and with his sword in hand. Alone.

'The hell is the mad man doing now?' Vaughn thought. He set a quick pace as he walked out to Remik. Vaughn struggled with his helmet, but managed to remove it.

"Remik!" He called out. He desperately wiped at the sweat on his forehead. There were more bodies this far in. "Remik, the battle is over!"

Remik paid him no attention. His eyes were cast down, searching. All at once he seemed to lock on to something and moved with great, quick strides to whatever it was.

Vaughn watched as a shaking hand rose up from the filthy bodies in the field, weakly defending itself. Remik's sword came down in an arc and landed with a sickening whack, like a butcher's cleaver going at a side of pig. There was a gurgle and then silence.

Vaughn was still for a moment as he watched this. As Remik crossed himself, it was like it unfroze Vaughn and he all but ran to Remik.

"Remik! Remik, come now!" Vaughn was at Remik's side and grabbed him by the elbow. He tried to gently ply him. "We need to go to camp, everyone will be waiting for us. The men in the field will succumb on their own, God will see to them."

Remik's eyes stayed on the field and he pulled against Vaughn's grip. He shook his head.

"No." Remik spoke softly. "No, I can't. No suffering. I can't let them suffer. No more pain."

Tears rolled down Remik's face, leaving clear trails through the grime of the day. Vaughn's chest tightened and he let his hand drop. The blonde man moved forward, mumbling prayers of penance under his breath.

I'm flexing. But it did look way better in the sketch phase. guidelines always make it look like you know what you are doing. Anyways this is my OC Remik who is the main character in a webcomic I hope to have starting this spring. It's going to be a mixed media webcomic focusing on PTSD and how it presents itself.

You can subscribe to it on Comic fury now. I'll also be posting it to webtoons canvas in time. https://retiredmercenaryknight.thecomicseries.com/