beautifullyheeled asked me for some help on a fic, and somehow I became the co-author…
Somewhere between a beloved dream and an arranged marriage, two souls find one another…
Passing through the woods on his way to fulfill his duty, Prince John Watson meets someone extraordinary. Meanwhile, William Holmes has been raised ignorant of his true past.
teaser below the cut
Soft light filtered through the ancient trees that slowly swayed in the gentle breeze. He had been called home to fulfill his duty to marry. His father’s kingdom, finally at peace. A pact between the two kings that their first borns would wed had been sealed and with it, his fate. War was never pretty, especially on the front lines of their battles, but the thrill down his spine as sharpened implements of destruction raged against battle-tested armour, the sweat and blood, his fellow brothers-in-arms, he’d miss those things.
Then there was the gleam of chain and plate that stopped death, until it didn’t. He’d worked hours in his men’s surgical tents. It was important to see, both on and off the battlefield, the reality of what war meant. It had been good work to save who he could, patching up those that needed little but a small mend, whispering prayers of healing until only a faint silvered line remained of the wound. Thankful the day he himself needed mending, that he had become adept at the sacred words. Far into the fray, the prince knew the moment he saw the strike that it would be true; fortunately his opponent hadn’t realized his importance and moved on as he fell. He lay forgotten in the tumult of the hew and cries unseen in the brambles. The thicket reminded him of home and endless summers and hope. His stuttered prayers had come from broken lungs, but he had survived. Many of his men considered it a miracle from the Goddess herself, though they knew better than to spread rumors; on the battlefield, one saw many strange things.
John shook his head lightly, clearing the memory, his hand coming to smooth over the silvered line he bore under his tunic; It was cool to the touch, as if drenched in his Goddess’ tears. A reminder; the one scar that would never fade. As he came back to his surroundings, he found his stallion stopped, ears pricked high and forward. A soft nudge and low words had the beast moving once again, though cautious. Not even in battle had the creature turned skittish. Then, his own ears picked up the lilting tune carried by the wind. He followed it, his stallion’s footing steady, but slow.
The forest seemed too still, as if its creatures were in waiting for the first crisp breaths of spring to ignite them into motion. This could not be true though, as even the soft meadow not far from his position had begun to flower. The rich hues and their heady perfume added to the filtered glen turning it ethereal. A willow-thin figure wheeled, arms spread wide as they danced among the sea of barely open petals. A song of meeting… of soft visions of a betrothed. Virginal dreams brought to the light of day.