DISCLAIMER: I neither own Glee nor the characters. They are the property of Ryan Murphy and FOX. This is purely for fun. Enjoy!

A/N: This new idea stems from my obsession with Game of Thrones and other medieval themes. I hope you like it.

My Fair Lady

Chapter One: Swallowed By The Sea

The waves were a dull, pale gray, frothing a thick white foam as they crashed mercilessly against the rocky shore. A girl stood at the edge of the rocky cliffs, staring out at the open sea with nothing but dread in her gaze. She opened her arms wide, welcoming the fine spray of sea mist that rained down on her body. The water was cool as it splashed across her face, soaking her fine, ornate silks in heavy sea brine and making the material sag on her delicate frame. Closing her eyes, she wished that she could stay here forever, under the mist of the sea where her problems were drowned out by the roar of the waves.

Peeking down at the jagged rocks below, the girl contemplated jumping for the slightest of moments. It was a selfish thought, but it passed through her mind nonetheless. It would be naïve for her to think that her death would stop the impending war at all, even though she had been the cause to all of her father's problems. Now the war seemed inevitable, and the urge to jump seemed futile.

Turning her gaze south she saw the port in the distance, and the mast of her father's most trusted ship stood high and proud in the sunlight. Her father's emblem, a roaring lion that represented the family name, was waving proudly from a flag on the back of the boat. Her servants from the castle were continuously loading her belongings below the deck, in order to ready her for the journey. She asked one of the maids if she could help carry some of the load and the woman flat out refused.

"Do not trouble yourself with menial tasks, Your Highness, let us do the work." Dejected, she had walked out towards the cliffs in order to stay out of everyone's way.

Being the sole Princess and heir to the entire kingdom was rather boring sometimes.

Rachel, daughter of King Hiram, was the Kingdom's only hope for a peaceful future. Her mother had died during childbirth, and while she adored her father more than anything else in the world, she desperately wished that he had taken on another wife after her mother's death. Another woman could have given him sons who could have ruled the Kingdom in Rachel's place when they came of age, instead of leaving all of the responsibility on Rachel's shoulders. Now she was the family's only hope of producing an heir to the throne, which was the reason why all of her problems had started.

During the winter months, Rachel had finally come of age to start choosing a husband. Lords from every region of the kingdom started to arrive at the capitol, hoping for a chance to win Rachel's hand in marriage. They draped her in the finest silks from the East, they showered her with the brightest jewels, and they bathed her in praise and pretty words and promises of undying love.

She didn't believe a single word of it. None of these men actually cared about her; they only cared about the wealth, power and status that came with her title. The gifts they gave to her were meaningless, their words empty and hollow. When she looked in their eyes she saw selfishness and greed instead of love and compassion. She didn't want to live in a life with no love, which is exactly what the Royal Council was trying to arrange for her.

That was when she had decided to turn them all down. She already had little control of her own life; her days were planned for her before she even opened her eyes and she walked through the motions like she was an actress playing a very demanding role. Very few people knew the real Rachel; the girl underneath the make-up and silk and gold. Until she met a man who wanted to know the true soul inside the future queen, she refused to see any suitor who arrived at the castle. Whether it be a Lord or a knight or a fool, she turned them all away. Their gifts were returned and their invitations were ignored.

That was when Rachel's problems truly began. The Lords of the Western Lands were furious at Rachel's fastidious denials, so they decided to join forces and head to the Capitol to seize the throne, and Rachel, for themselves. They were ruining the delicate balance of peace through the lands and if her father didn't act quickly then the whole kingdom would be lost in the destruction of war. She couldn't stand being the cause of so many problems and her safety was now fully compromised, so her father decided to send her away until the fighting had ceased.

Now, as she stared out at the sea and contemplated her choices, she wondered if jumping was actually a good idea. If her father failed, and the kingdom fell into the hands of another noble, Rachel would forever be trapped in her own life under the control of a cruel, loveless man. If he succeeded and Rachel made it back to the capitol in one piece, then her life would consist of nothing but babies and power and she would still be trapped in her own life.

All she had to do was jump and she would finally be free. . .

"My Lady!" A loud, familiar voice could be heard approaching the Princess. "You get your royal ass away from those cliffs right this second!"

She sighed deeply as her most trusted handmaiden and personal bodyguard, Santana, pulled her back away from the edge of the cliffs with a deadly fire in her eyes. She was the only person in Rachel's life who was honest with her, and was never afraid to speak her mind around the future queen. Rachel considered her a priceless asset in her life; she could tie a corset almost as well as she could throw a knife and her attitude was exactly what the princess needed. She was brash, succinct and slightly vulgar, which Rachel appreciated after a life filled with propriety. Everyone thought she was as delicate as a flower. Frail and innocent were words that came up often in regards to the princess.

"I was just looking," she said, her voice sad. "This is the only home I've ever known. I wanted to take it all in for one last time." Santana eyed her warily, but shrugged and started to walk towards the port. The ship was leaving soon, getting ready to lead the princess to safety. "Where were you this morning?" Normally Santana was always at Rachel's side, but she did have some moments where she was left alone as long as there were guards present to protect her.

"I went into the town square to get you some extra tea," she said, rolling her eyes. "God forbid we arrive in the middle of nowhere without your chamomile." If anyone else spoke to Rachel in such a manner they would probably be punished, but Rachel allowed Santana liberties that others did not have. She had saved her life more times than Rachel could count, so she deserved to have as much freedom of speech as possible.

"Why didn't you tell me? I would have liked to see the square one last time."

Santana looked bewildered. "My Lady, you know your father hasn't allowed you outside of the castle walls since before you came of age. The square is crawling with spies and mercenaries that are out for your blood. I'm surprised he let you out of his sight for this long."

"Yes," she said dryly, "and now he's sending me all the way across the continent. What a contradiction."

"Princess," Santana's eyes grew hard, revealing for a moment the true assassin that lied underneath the guise of a handmaiden. "House St. James has amassed new allies in the west. They're attacking every village from the Western Mountains to the Valleys of the Sun in the south. They will be at the capitol faster than you think and they are coming here for you and you alone." Rachel's heart was pounding at the implications when she thought about all of those innocent people, dying and burning and fighting and starving in the name of Princess Rachel.

It made her sick to her stomach.

"I hate him," she seethed through gritted teeth as the image of the young Lord from House St. James, Jesse, popped into her head. They had known each other since infancy, but Rachel had never liked the spoiled, pompous young boy. When she had met him again after she came of age he was cold, callous, and walked around her castle like her father was keeping the throne warm for him. He was the reason why she had to leave her home, he was the reason why her subjects around the kingdom were being tormented by war. "I hope my father chases him all the way back to the mountains of the west." She smiled bitterly. "Maybe we can even send him up to the prisons of the north?"

"Yes, I would love to kick his frozen balls around in the snow."

"Santana!" Rachel scolded with a smile. "You can be so crass sometimes!"

"You love it," the handmaiden said, and Rachel nodded. Santana was the only friend she'd ever had, but it was her job to be friendly and protect Rachel. She wished that there was someone in her life who truly wanted to spend time with her instead of being paid to do so, or trying to act on their own selfish desires. "My Lady, why do you look so upset? It is starting to grate my nerves."

"I am sorry, Santana, but I've had a lot of time to think this morning and it has left me dreadfully pensive," she exhaled deeply, wanting to vent her problems to the only person she trusted. "I feel as if I am sometimes a prisoner in my own life."

"A prisoner? You're the princess of the kingdom! You have never wanted for anything and was always given the best of everything."

She sighed, knowing that Santana could never understand her true feelings. "I walk around the castle and the gardens, but I am not allowed to leave. I paint myself up to look beautiful, but no one truly sees me. I am told what to eat, when to sleep, and how to live my life. One day, I might be forced into a marriage without love, and then I will truly be a slave."

Santana's eyes were rock hard, and Rachel knew that her confession had fallen on deaf ears. "I am sorry you feel that way, My Lady, but I cannot have sympathy for one who has always had everything."

"I understand." She nodded her head sadly, wishing that she hadn't said anything at all. "Come, I must see my father one last time before I leave."

They didn't speak as the two women made their way to the port. Rachel's father was a tall, intimidating man, who stood off to the side with his councilors, overseeing his beloved daughter's departure. He yelled at crew members and ordered the servants around in order to make sure that everything was perfect. When he saw Rachel in his periphery he left his councilors to complete the task themselves as he pulled his little girl into his arms.

"Papa," she said, breathing in his strong and powerful scent. "I am going to miss you so much."

"So am I, my dearest, but this is for your safety, and the safety of the kingdom. As long as you're safe then our bloodline will survive and there will be someone from House Berry ruling the kingdom."

"I'm sorry this had to happen, Papa." she said, the tears falling down her cheeks. "But I want to marry for love, not because someone is forcing me to do so."

"I know, which is why I never pushed you into a union with any of those men. I want only for you to be happy and prosperous in your future life." He kissed her forehead. "When you return and there is peace in the land, we will find you a man that is truly worthy of your love and worthy of the throne."

"Oh, Papa," at least her father understood how she felt as she cried tearfully in his embrace.

"When you get to the lands of the north you must trust no one. You will be staying with House Corcoran, your mother's people, who are sworn by blood to protect you at all costs. While you are traveling you mustn't use your name. The name Rachel is known throughout the kingdom and is synonymous with royalty, so you do yourself a disservice if you use it."

"Yes, father."

"Be wary of strangers, especially peasants. They might seem kind at first but money is always a more powerful incentive than honor. They will sell your secrets as soon as you divulge them."

"I understand. I do wish you could come too."

"My darling, I must lead my men into war. The lords of the west want to take you from me, they want to take the kingdom from me. This I cannot allow, but I want you to take this to remember me by." He reached into his thick fur robes and pulled out a large, ornate amulet. Placing it in her hands, she gasped at the numerous diamonds, rubies and sapphires that decorated the piece, all inlaid into a bright but dense gold. "Whenever you miss your home, I want you to hold this and sing that pretty song that I love. Do you remember it?"

"Of course," she sang a few tremulous notes and her father beamed.

"Oh my dearest Rachel, I think I will miss your voice most of all. It has the uncanny ability to make me happier, even at the saddest of times." He kissed her on her forehead once more as the captain of the vessel started to get ready to leave. "Now make haste to safety. Santana and my Royal Guard will protect you with their lives if need be. Do not send any letters, lest they be intercepted by spies. You will know when to come home."

"I love you, Papa." Rachel said as Santana pulled her on the boat.

"Farewell, my princess." She waved at her father from the deck and the ship sailed off into the open sea, ready to bring Rachel to the cold and barren lands of the north, where no enemy would be able to find her.

She sat on the deck of the ship in the late evening, staring up at the cloudy sky that provided no moon or extra light. It was so dark that she couldn't tell where the ocean ended and the sky began. Wrapping her furs around her, she shivered in the cold wind coming down the Eastern Sea from the frigid north. She better get used to the cold now; the north lived in a perpetual winter that rarely saw a spring, which was completely opposite of the warm, dry weather of the south where she grew up. It was bound to be cold, but also lonely. House Corcoran was tied to her by blood but she barely knew or trusted anyone in the family. Her cousins had always been mean and spiteful towards her, and her aunt was jealous of her sister's short, yet blessed, life. She would have Santana with her at least, along with the men of her father's guard. That would have to suffice until she returned home.

She held the amulet in her hand, thinking about her father and the capitol that she called home. They had been sailing for two whole days, which meant that the capitol was hundreds of miles away by now, and they still had another two days left until they reached their destination. Closing her eyes, she sang the song that her father loved, letting her voice echo out onto the open sea as she lost herself in the music, the one respite she had in her life.

"All that is gold does not glitter

Not all those who wander are lost

The old that is strong does not wither

Deep roots are not reached by the frost. . ."

"Princess Rachel has the most gorgeous voice in all of the lands of the kingdom!" A crew member called to her from the upper deck and she smiled and bowed her head in thanks. When she was younger her father would make her sing during all the royal events, so the entire kingdom was aware of her musical talents. Other crew members cheered and hollered in agreement, and Rachel slipped the amulet around her neck as she gratefully bowed to her audience.

"My Lady! Come inside before you catch your death from cold! They say that it might storm tonight." Santana yelled at her as she ran out of the bunks in the lower decks. Rachel looked out at the endless sea that surrounded them and sighed.

"Death cannot catch me here," she said, following her handmaiden into her room. Santana scoffed with a roll of her eyes.

"You're being rather melodramatic, don't you think?" Rachel didn't answer, letting her servants remove the layers of silks and bodices that wrapped around her petite frame.

"Can I put this away for you?" One of the servants asked when they noticed the heavy amulet around her neck.

"No, I wish to sleep with it on." The servant shrugged and returned to her work as she continued to get ready for bed. When she was dressed she allowed Santana to help her into her bedsheets and the lamps were shut off, leaving her alone with her thoughts as the ship rocked against the waves of the sea. It lulled her into a light sleep where she dreamed of being in a field, all alone, surrounded by grass and trees and the smells of summer in the air.

That was until her bed shook so violently that she almost fell out of it, and woke up with a start to hear screaming echoing through the ship. Santana burst into the room, her hair as wild as the look in her eyes as she pulled Rachel from the bed. "My Lady! We must make haste!"

"What's the matter?" She asked, beginning to panic. Santana never looked this worried, ever.

"The storm! It is too powerful! We need to get you to safety!" Rachel followed Santana out of her bedroom, where the other crew members were trying desperately to stay calm and remain in control of the ship. The wind almost knocked her off of her own feet, and Santana tried to steady her and push her up towards the deck. There was water already filling the lower chambers, and the wood that surrounded them started to groan and creak from the strain. This might have been her father's most powerful ship, but even Rachel knew that the sea could overpower anything that was made by man.

The rain was torrential when she finally emerged from the lower chambers of the ship. The wind howled around them and Rachel looked up to see a crack of lightning, illuminating a giant wave that was heading directly for the boat. She screamed, reaching for Santana's hand and holding it with all of her strength as the wave pounded against the side of the ship, making the wood splinter and break like it were a mere tree branch.

There was chaos around her. The force of the wave pulled her away from Santana, and she was underwater before she could cry for help. The sea was dark and cold and lonely as the blackness surrounded her, and she held onto the amulet around her neck, thinking only of her father as the sea swallowed her whole.

He cursed liberally to himself as he tried to untangle the maze of nets that had survived the storm. The Eastern Coast had experienced the worst storm in over a century during the night, according to the old men in the town square. Now Finn, a poor farmer from the shore, was forced to restring the broken nets while his mother chased the goats that had escaped into the forest during the night. There hadn't been much damage to the farm, and for that Finn was grateful. He didn't have the time to replace the roof of their cottage and still have the harvest ready for the summer months.

Picking out the fish that had been caught in the nets during the storm, he put them to the side and sat down on the rickety old pier, trying to restring the nets as the sun peeked past the lingering clouds in the sky. A bright ray of sunlight hit the shore, and when Finn gazed down at the beach he noticed something washed up on the sand.

It was a body.

Dropping the nets immediately, Finn leaped off of the pier and landed hard in the sand, tripping over himself in his rush to help whoever was there on his beach. He didn't have any money to call his own, but at least he had the small strip of beach and farm land that his father had left him before joining the Royal Guard as a child. He had died during his service to the throne, leaving Finn to run the farm with his mother all by himself. Everything they earned came from the plants they grew, the animals they raised, the fish they caught and the fur they trapped.

"Hello?" He called to the unconscious body, whose face was covered by thick, dark hair matted with seaweed and sand. He could tell that it was a girl, a young one from her small and delicate frame. She was dressed in bed-clothing, exposing her legs and arms to him as Finn blushed. He wasn't used to seeing girls with so little on. The garments were ripped and ragged from the force of the sea, and her chest rose and fell with strained, shallow breaths.

Wait, she was breathing! Finn knelt down next to her, wondering what to do with this unknown girl who had washed up on his land. He tried to call for help but he knew it was useless; his was the only residence this close to the shore and the land was private. He prayed that she didn't need a healer; they did nothing to help the poor and Finn was practically penniless. Struggling with his options, he knew that the only thing he could provide for her was his kindness, so he slipped his arms underneath her body and lifted her up out of the sand.

Her hair fell away from her face as he carried her towards his house, and he was transfixed on her beauty as he tried to figure out who she was. Her nose and jaw were wide and chiseled, but in an intriguing way that only enhanced her beauty. Her lips were full and deep red, but her eyes stayed closed as he approached his home. When he laid her down on the bedding where he normally slept he tried to figure out who this girl was, and how she washed up on his land.

He hoped against hope that she wasn't a noble. If she was from noble blood and anyone found her here then he would surely be hanged for kidnapping. He had even touched her bare skin, a crime that was punishable by death. He was nothing but a peasant farmer who didn't have a coin to his name. Noblemen and women weren't even allowed in the same room as he was, let alone stay in his meager lodgings. However, he couldn't be sure if she was a noble or not; her clothes were ragged and they were miles away from the closest Lord of the region. There were no jousting tournaments in the area anytime soon, so she couldn't be a part of any noble entourage. Maybe she was a servant on a ship that had crashed during the night? Until she woke up, he couldn't be sure.

He noticed her shivering as he tried to stoke the dying fire in the hearth. His mother still wasn't home, so he began to pile blankets on top of her in order to keep out the chill. Her teeth were chattering, but some color was starting to blossom on her pale cheeks. After a while she started to moan a name under her breath, her voice as soft and gentle as the wind.

"Santana," she called out in her sleep. "Santana. . ."

He had no idea who this Santana person was, but if she had been traveling with this girl then he was sure that she was lost to the sea. He had found her washed up alone, with no one else in sight. Maybe she was a sister, or a cousin? He wasn't sure as he put some of the leftover stew from breakfast on the fire so she could eat something when she woke up.

He heard some goats bleating in the distance, signaling the arrival of his mother, Carole. She was a strong, durable woman who worked alongside her son with steadfast determination and never-ending optimism. He exited the cottage, leaving the unknown girl behind to meet his mother in the fields. Her hands and feet were filthy, but there was a bright smile on her face as she kissed him on the cheek.

"Boil some water for me, boy! I require a bath." Her smile melted away when Finn's mirth did not match her own. "What's the matter, Finn?"

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as he tried his best to explain what had happened that morning. His mother listened intently, and gazed at their cottage with worry in her eyes.

"I must see her at once." She ran towards the hut and Finn followed her inside, kneeling down next to the bedding on the floor and feeling her forehead for a temperature while the girl continued to moan in her sleep. She was no longer shivering, but the moaning became louder until her eyelashes began to flutter.

Finn held his breath when she opened her eyes, blinking quickly to adjust to the light before taking in her surroundings. "Santana?" She called out, her voice hoarse. When she realized that the people surrounding her were not the girl she was calling, she let out a high pitched scream and scurried into the corner of the hut.

"Where is Santana?" She cried, the tears dripping down her cheeks. Finn couldn't stop staring into her gorgeous dark brown eyes, which were clouded with panic and fear.

"Who is Santana?" His mother asked him and he shook his head. The girl continued to cry in the corner, calling the girl's name.

"She promised she wouldn't leave me," the girl sobbed. "She promised."

"Look," Finn said, inching closer to her while she put even more distance between them. "I don't know who Santana is, or what happened to her, but I found you this morning alone, washed up on the shore half-dead."

"The ship," she said, her voice hollow. "There was a storm last night."

"I'm sorry that you can't find your . . . Santana," his mother said kindly. "But you've been through a lot and you need your rest. You almost drowned." The girl's face crumpled in on itself and she curled into a ball with his blankets wrapped around her, collapsing into tears. Finn and his mother looked at each other and shrugged, not knowing what to do.

"Can you tell us your name?" Finn asked, and a certain fear entered her eyes that he couldn't understand. She quickly shook her head no, staring at Finn like he was about to pounce on her. "Where was your ship heading?" He asked again, trying to glean some kind of information from her. She still refused to answer. "Can you tell us where you came from?"

"Absolutely not," was her firm and final answer. He was starting to get frustrated when his mother pulled him outside of the hut.

"Leave her alone for now, Finn. She obviously has been through a traumatic experience and we need to let her have some rest before we bombard her with questions."

"We don't know anything about her, Mom. What if she's a noble and we get arrested and hanged for kidnapping? What if she's a thief and we wake up one morning with nothing?"

"We already have nothing, Finn, and can't you see that this girl is harmless? She needs time to calm down. Until she can tell us where she came from, she's our guest, and we will treat her with all the respect of a noble, even if she is a commoner like us. I am going to set up a place for her to stay in the loft above the barn. Make sure she's comfortable until I get back."

"Yes, Mother," he replied dutifully, entering the house once more to see the girl still crouched in the corner of the room, with hot, fat tears sliding down her cheeks. He poured her some warm vegetable stew and placed the bowl in front of her. She eyed it like it was going to bite her, and he was about to leave the cottage to give her some privacy when he heard her voice echo around him.

"Where am I?" She asked, taking a meager sip from the bowl and closing her eyes in bliss as food entered her system.

"Why should I answer your questions when you haven't answered mine?" He was expecting her to retaliate in some way; if she was a noble then she wouldn't stand to be spoken to in such a manner, but she didn't seem to mind.

"That is fair enough. I am sorry that I cannot divulge any information about myself at the moment but I assure you that it's for the best." She diverted her eyes and continued to drink the stew as Finn sighed deeply.

"You're on the Eastern Shore, about a day's ride south of the Northern Cliffs. My name is Finn and my mother is Carole. You're on our farm." She nodded her head, deep in thought as Finn continued to stand around awkwardly in his own house. "Until you're ready to leave you can stay with us if you want. My mother is preparing you a place to sleep in the barn."

She nodded her head, still deep in her own thoughts as he continued to stare at the unknown girl. He didn't know anything about her, not even her name, but deep down he felt the overwhelming need to protect her from her troubles. She obviously had a lot of them if she was being so secretive.

"I thank you for your kindness, Sir."

"I'm no Sir," he said bitterly, a hard edge to his voice as he thought about the knights and nobles that held the title, along with the money and power that went with it. "I'm just a poor farmer with a strong conscience."

"The worth of a man is not measured in riches, Finn," she said, simply. "But in their actions and beliefs. You might not be a Sir in name, but you are a true, chivalrous gentleman. You saved my life. One day, your kindness will be repaid a hundred-fold." For the first time since she had woken up a soft smile began to pull up her lips, but Finn couldn't help but notice how sad it was. She was beautiful, probably the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life, but to Finn she was nothing but an unattainable dream, especially if she was, in fact, a noble. He was aching to know more about this girl who had washed up on his land; where she came from, why she was sailing during that storm. . .

And why he still didn't know her name.

Merci mille fois mes amis!

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