Chapter One

The Alliance

"Prince John!" came a voice outside the tent.

Inside, said Prince was almost asleep over the map of the continent. They were just outside the border with the Kingdom of the Wind, Skyland. The Skylanders were a flighty and constantly capricious lot to deal with and Prince John had his orders. Forge an alliance and take them as a vassal state to the larger and more powerful Kingdom of the Earth, Bracken, or use the might of his military to take them over by force and make their land part of the kingdom. John didn't want to do that. He hated forcing people into their kingdom, but currently, any smaller kingdoms not under their protection were at risk from the invaders from the east. And Skyland was far too close to the eastern edge of the continent for it to be left undefended.

"What is it?" he called.

"Sire, the entourage from the capital is here!"

John nodded, wondering who they sent. "How many?"

"Um, quite a few, but you'll have to see, one of them is chained and covered so I'm not sure what's going on." The voice outside the flap to the tent was confused.

"See them into the large tent and I'll treat with them momentarily," he said with a sigh and commenced putting on the official garb.

Great, he thought to himself. What had they done this time? These Skylanders were run by the Holmes family, a highly intelligent bunch from what he'd heard, and from what he understood, they manipulated the people very easily through their staunch adherence to their religion. Skyland was a place where there was a rift between worlds. The astral plane could be accessed there, making it strategically, a very important place. The entire kingdom had come about around the rift that allowed the astral beings known as angels to cross between planes. The people had come to revere them and treat them as gods. Sigrid Holmes had filled the necessary vacuum of power and formed the place into an actual kingdom, and he and his wife ran the place quite efficiently. Rebellion of their rule was unheard of and the people were happy and prosperous. They had two sons, Sherrinford and Mycroft, and it was rumored there was a third prince, though it was unconfirmed by Bracken's spies. Of course, it helped that the Holmes family alone had the ability to banish the other things that managed to come through the rift. Though rare, malevolent beings occasionally found their way through and somehow, it was unclear to the spies, the Holmes family could banish them back with ease.

John sighed. He hated these official duties. He hated leading the army, but he was the prince, and his friend and adopted brother trusted him. King Lestrade (or Greg as John called him) was the last in the Lestrade line. John had been adopted by Greg's father when he was an infant. Since, the Lestrade's had died out, and Greg had been unable to father issue with his wife. She had since passed, and now the fate of the kingdom's future rested on John since Greg refused to remarry. He thought it was juvenile of him, but only time would tell.

He buckled the decorative sword to his waist that signified him the general of the army, put on the small crown upon his sandy blonde head that signified him the prince of Bracken, and closed his blue eyes for a moment to collect himself. He then left his tent and went in the larger meeting tent they had set up. Bracken never met in the castles of the kingdoms they were taking over. By bringing them into their army's camps, they ensured the visiting princes and kings understood what they were up against by showing Bracken's might. And it was a great deal of might.

He placed his best diplomatic smile on as he emerged through the curtained area into the larger room set with a large round table and he could hear murmured conversation already. One of the men seated stood and came forward. He was a ginger haired fellow who walked with a decorative cane and wore a very delicate looking crown. He bowed a bit then extended his hand.

"Prince John, I assume," he began. "I am Prince Mycroft of Skyland. Father is ill, and I as second born, am his political representative. My brother Sherinford represents the military, I represent the diplomatic side of our government."

John nodded. "Have a seat, and let's get started," he said as servants went around and passed out tea.

John took a minute to look at the entourage he'd brought. He had two guards that stood behind him, and a servant who stood by the door. All were well dressed in the finery of Skyland, but what had John's attention was the figure that stood to the side flanked by two other strangely dressed men. The guards for this figure wore pure white robes and carried staves that had delicate looking chains attached that led to obviously some sort of collar the individual between them wore. John could tell nothing of this person, for it was covered in white robes like the guards, but also a white veil that completely obscured the face. Not a glimpse of flesh could be seen, the hands were covered in white gloves and he could see briefly that they were cuffed together with those delicate chains. On top of the veil, a round crown like metal band sat on the person's head. In fact, it was the only color on the figure, being silver like the delicate chains.

"Of course, you know of the threat from across the sea," John began.

"I do," the prince said with a nod. "And Skyland would not stand against the might of Hildonia. Their God-king has a hold on his people that is stronger than anything we have ever attained on our own, and that is saying something."

John tipped his head to the side. "You talk like you don't believe in your own religion."

Mycroft scoffed. "Of course not, it is ridiculous, however useful it may be. Calling the creatures angels and believing them some heavenly host. They are simply natives to the astral realm, just as mortal and normal as we are."

John smirked at him. "But you don't mind using the people's adoration."

"Of course not. By using their obsession, we keep them happy, and everything we do can be deemed the will of the angels. And if there is any doubt, we simply banish the dark things that go bump in the night," he said with a dismissive wave.

"Dark things?" John asked.

"Another native being to the astral plane, enemies of the Aerieals. I cannot remember what they call them, but the leader of the Aerieals gave us an artifact that is extremely effective against them," the prince of Skyland said with a sip of his own tea.

John blinked. "You have an alliance with the Aerieals?"

Mycroft rolled his eyes. "Of course, it as easy enough to obtain. If it did leave us with…undesired consequences."

John didn't miss the fact that his gaze landed on the white covered figure for a brief second. "They desired a union with a human. My mother agreed. Their curiosity was satisfied, and in thanks they agreed to ally with us and continue to appease the people by appearing in support now and again."

John nodded. "I see. Now, about this…"

"Yes, yes, I already know your desire to add us to Bracken as a vassal state. This is agreeable, we can use the military protection. I perish the thought of this King Moriarty fellow getting access to the astral rift. However, out people will not take kindly to the idea of another nation entering our realm without an alliance with their precious 'angels'. So in exchange with offer you the third Prince of Skyland. If the people see him joined with one of your princes in union, they will believe that the 'angels' agree to the alliance," Mycroft said with a nod.

"Wait, what?" John asked, brow furrowing.

The prince sighed. "I told you, the Aerials desired a union with my human. The resulting child is my brother Sherlock. He is what is called a Vestal. His father is the king of the Aerials, his mother is my own. There are other Vestals in Skyland, but they are all taken as infants to the monastery of the angels and raised there, sequestered from society. They are seen now and again, but they are kept in the dark and silence when in public. They are only allowed to see their human parent under supervision of the Aerial parent, thought he Aerial parent visits frequently since the Monastery sits under the rift. The Aerials are quite fond of their human progeny. The Vestals are small in number, currently there are six at the monastery, my brother being the only one of royal blood. By binding him to you, we assure the loyalty of my people to you forever, essentially, because it will appear to be blessed by the angels."

John stared for a minute. "You expect a prince of Braken to marry your brother?"

The prince sighed. "It is either that or you are going to have a hard time controlling our population. They will rebel against you. And while smaller than you, we are a rather prosperous kingdom. And our alliance with the Aerials is worthwhile."

John rubbed his forehead. "I'm the only prince of Braken."

Mycroft smiled. "I know."

"I'm afraid it won't be possible, I have to marry someone to have a child, Prince Mycroft. The king is unable to sire children. I must instead do so," John said with a serious face.

"Then you are in luck. Vestals are able to bear children no matter their gender," he said with a smile. "They are freakish creatures, certainly, and I have little interest in what happens to any of them, especially this bastard brother of mine. Aerials are genderless creatures, able to morph their astral forms into anything. Thus a Vestal, no matter their human gender, also has an Aerial form in which they can bear children."

John blinked and looked back at his advisor. He shook his head. "Sire, this is necessary, we cannot waste our resources on trying to subjugate a population the size of Skyland's when we need all the men we can to defend against Hildonia's incursions. They've already taxed us in the defense of the Sea Kingdom. If they choose Skyland as a secondary entrance point, and we are fighting the population as well as Moriarty's forces, we will fail."

John nodded. "Very well, this is what must be," he said, glancing at the white dressed figure. "What must happen?"

"I will return my brother to the Monastery, the wedding will be announced tonight at services, then tomorrow, we shall perform it so that you may return him to Bracken," the prince said and stood with a smile.

"Doesn't he get a say?" John said, standing as the two white clad guards yanked on their staves, causing the figure to stumble a bit. He remembered that he said he was blinded and deafened in public.

Mycroft turned. "Of course not. He's a freakish commodity to be traded for peace, nothing more."

With that, the two white guards led the figure out of the tent and left John staring after him. He looked over to his advisor, a man named Stamford. "Mike, is it just me, or does that seem especially cruel?"

The man nodded. John had actually been raised with Mike, they were around the same age, and had trained in the medical academy together. Despite being raised a prince, John was not excluded from learning and trade. He'd chosen medicine, which was far more advanced in Bracken than anywhere else.

Mike sighed. "John, he may be better off with you than he is now. If what he said is true…he's had little to no human interaction. And to be kept all your life closed away from everyone and everything? I can't imagine…and the way he talks about him…he has little regard for him."

"Right, well, send off a rider to inform Greg. I swear, the things I do for politics…" he muttered, standing and heading off to his tent. At least he'd remembered to pack away his formal attire. Who knew he'd be getting married on this trip…

"The king will expect a full wedding once we return," Mike pointed out and John nodded.

"Yes, I know, this is simply for their eyes," he said with a sigh. "Arrange the necessary transport with the monastery people, make sure we are doing everything in line with their traditions. We want to make sure that nothing goes wrong. Set up with their guards to ready the barracks for our troupes, if they don't have enough, set up the builders that will be needed."

"How many will be returning to the capital with you, sire?" Mike asked, scribbling notes on a parchment.

John sighed. "We'll leave the majority here as planned, I'll take back two units, leave seven here. So we'll only need provisions for two hundred for the return trip."

Before long, the preparations were made, and John fell into his cot. The next day would begin at dawn where he had to present himself to the monks and nuns of the monastery.

-oooooo-OOOOOO-oooooo-

The next morning brought the sun rising as John stood at a spot just outside the door to a huge monastery that allowed the sun to shine through a gap onto him as it rose. It was all for show. Apparently, any who wish to wed a vestal had to be "approved" by the angels. If the morning sun didn't shine on the person, they were turned away. The chances of that were slim, of course. So as John was illuminated by the sunlight, everyone around him cheered. There was a massive gathering of the commoners around the monastery. John was led into the entrance chamber and sat at a lush set of couches and told to wait while they summoned the Vestal's mother.

A short while later, he was given a light breakfast as the Queen entered and sat across from him at the opposite couch and took breakfast.

"Prince John, a pleasure," she said formally, sipping a juice that John knew not the composition of, only that it was very sweet.

"Yes, Queen Violet. I am looking forward to this alliance for the protection of all," he answered, formally in return.

She nodded and silence weighed on them. "Will the king come to the event?" he asked.

A look of sadness passed her face. "I am afraid not. This child was not of his blood, he is delighted to see him taken from Skyland, to be honest. I love my boys, all of them, even this poor soul. He cannot help what he is, and I would hope that you would treat him with more…care."

John frowned and nodded, unsure what exactly she meant by that statement. Had he been mistreated? He assumed he would be revered and protected since he was a creature of their angels. Before long, the trays were removed and he was led with the Queen to a large, open balcony. He stood and looked down at the massive crowd gathered below.

"It is curiosity. A Vestal may only be revealed once bound to another. This will be the first time any have seen what my son looks like," she explained. "And if you are rejected by his father, he will appear and take him to the astral realm."

John blinked. "Does that happen?"

She shook her head. "The Aerials do not concern themselves with the Vestals once they are adults. My son hasn't seen his father since he was twenty years old. I'm afraid I haven't seen him since then either. Vestals are not permitted to see anyone after twenty except the monks and nuns of the monastery. However, exceptions were made for him as a prince. His brothers and father were permitted to visit, though the king only visited once."

"How old is he now?" John asked as the crowd continued to swell.

"Twenty six," she said.

John nodded. This was so strange, to be kept away from everyone like that. "Why are they kept isolated?"

"To avoid human corruptions," she said. "The laws of the religion state that humans are imperfect, and only those that have purified themselves by visiting the astral realm with the court of angels may interact with the Vestals. My other sons and husband have been to the court of angels, as have the nuns and monks, therefore they are allowed to interact with him. I have not been there. It is of course, ridiculous, but it is a part of the religion these people cling to so desperately. We cannot change it, if we do we lose their blind allegiance."

John, frankly, thought the whole thing was insane. To restrict behavior based on some archaic laws written about beings that weren't even "holy", they were simply not understood… He shook his head as the crowd cheered loudly. He turned and saw that a man in resplendent white robes and a tall, white and silver headdress had appeared in the doorway. He moved forward and stood and looked over at those gathered.

"My children!" he called out, and was met by cheers. "Today is a splendid and wonderful day! The angels have blessed us by sending a bondmate for one of our Vestals. And it will solidify an alliance blessed by the angels that will bring protection and hope to our people from hence forth!" More cheers were heard. John was beginning to understand why this was so important. "The kingdom of Bracken has sent forth its only son to wed the royal Vestal of Skyland!" The cheers were thunderous at that.

There was a pause as the high monk turned as four guards with chained staves led the white clad figure out to stand beside the monk. John and Queen Violet moved forward to flank him. The four men with the staves stood behind the Vestal, the chains clinking against the metal staves. John wasn't particularly fond of this tradition. They claimed that the Vestal was chained to protect it from being stolen away by the darkness of the astral plane. He thought it was perhaps to keep them from running away.

"Prince John of the kingdom of the Earth, the brilliant and strong kingdom of Bracken, do you knowingly and willingly take on the bondship of the most holy Vestal Prince?" the high monk said, his gray eyes somewhat menacing among all that white around his face.

John nodded. "I do take the holy Vestal Prince as my bonded mate."

There was a long silence, and John was growing uncomfortable. Then there was a strike of light from the astral rift behind them. It could only be seen when active, so this was John's first glimpse of it. It was really quite simple, a rift in the air that glowed and then faded.

"The union has been approved by the angels!" the high monk announced and the cheering rose in volume and pitch. "The time of revelation has come," he said, moving forward and removing the crowned veil slowly, revealing the man underneath. John frowned deeply.

He had longish black hair in wild curls all over his head. His eyes, though, were covered by a blindfold of white, and a gag of sorts was fitted into his mouth, sealing his mouth closed as it covered his lips and chin and clasped at the base of his neck. Over his ears were a pair of oval disks that were likewise attached to the mouthpiece. He turned his head back and forth, obviously feeling the absence of the veil. He was ethereal, in reality, his skin so pale it was nearly translucent. He had sharply defined cheekbones, and John couldn't miss the hollowed appearance under his eyes and set into his cheeks. His neck was also long and sinewy looking, with a thick, heavy collar of silver set with diamonds and rings that the chains attached to. He could see the rapid rate of his breath under the robes that clung to him. As a doctor, he knew that underneath the robes he would be painfully thin, unhealthily so.

The crowd made a collective gasp and then started clapping rapidly and John glanced at the Queen, who had set her eyes on the ground. There weren't going to remove the blindfold, gag or ear covers? John was led forward then by a nun who wore the white robes. The four men with staves came forward and unhooked the chains from the silver collar he wore and stepped back. The nun pulled a thicker silver chain from a satchel at her waist and clicked it loudly onto the large ring in the front of the collar, causing the man to flinch. John hoped they had at least told him what was happening, but somehow he doubted it because his breath became faster. Or perhaps they had told him, and that was why he was getting more anxious.

The nun handed the end of the chain to John. It was about four feet long he guessed. The end had a leather covered loop of chain for the handle. He held it and grimaced at how heavy it felt. She then lifted the bound hands of the Vestal and removed the delicate chain that connected the two cuffs that matched the collar. She clicked the cuffs directly to each other, again, getting a flinch out of the Vestal. Then she snapped another length of chain, about a foot or a bit more, to the connected cuffs and then to the collar's ring, bringing his bound and gloved hands to rest just below his breastbone.

She turned and spread her arms. "It is done! The bonding of the Vestal to Prince John has been completed. The prince has been given the chains of fate, and no more does the Vestal Prince belong to the Monastery of Angels and the kingdom of Skyland. The Vestal Prince belongs now to the Kingdom of Bracken!"

More applause broke out and through the chain John felt the trembling in the body before him. No doubt he was scared. He had no idea who John was, or what would happen when John took him away. And he was treated as property? It was disgusting to John, but he would take him away. But he smiled, being the perfect diplomat and held the chain high, not missing the flinching through it. How strange it must be, to be deprived of the senses like that…

"It is my duty as prince of Bracken, and my pleasure to take on this responsibility for the Vestal Prince! May prosperity and peace fall upon you because of my sacrifice!"

His stomach turned at the words. They said that taking a Vestal was considered a sacrifice, because you sacrificed having a normal life thereafter. The rules of taking care of the Vestal were extensive, and frankly, John intended to follow none of them once outside the kingdom's borders. He stepped back, pulling as gently as he could on the chain. It was not permitted to touch the Vestal in public, according to their tradition. He led the Vestal through and to the banquet room. He seemed to know every inch of the place without his eyes, which told John he was quite used to being blinded.

Once in the banquet hall, he was seated to the right of the high monk and the high nun, who took up the two seats at the end of the table. The Vestal was led to sit on the opposite side from him, the chain snapped into a slot on the back of the chair. Food was served, but the Vestal's place remained empty. He sniffed the air, John noticed, every now and then. But he supposed with smell the only sense left to him, he had no choice. John made polite conversation, answering questions and glancing at the Queen, who had been permitted to sit beside her son, though she was unable to speak to him or touch him in any way. John realized he has smelled her, and that he was much more relaxed with her beside him. His heart nearly broke. He decided that if it was the last thing he ever did, he would change this. There were six others treated this way and it was wrong on so many levels.

There was a ball afterward, where all the nobles blended with the monks and nuns and the Vestal sat alone at the side of the room once the tables had been cleared away. John saw him tense when the Queen would walk away and relax when she returned. Again his heart ached. He knew her scent though he hadn't seen her in six years. Finally, the ordeal was done, and John left to go give his signature to the political documents at the castle, and then returned, taking up the cursed chain again and led the man out the door to the waiting carriage that would take them to Bracken. The high nun and high monk assisted him into the carriage, securing the chain to the clip they'd added the night before inside. They bowed and John entered and sat opposite the younger man. He wanted to rip away the blinders, but he had to wait until they were well outside the kingdom. Removing them would cause an incident, so they had decided to wait until they were an hour at least inside Bracken's borders. Which wouldn't be until well after dark. But it would have to be that way. John leaned back and decided to nap on the way. He woke when one of the guards shook his shoulder.

"Time to camp for the night, sire, we forged on about two hours inside the kingdom. If we set out at dawn, we'll be home before lunch tomorrow, but it is a moonless night so we have to stop," he said with a sigh.

John nodded and unclipped the stupid chain and led the Vestal to the tent his men had set up for him. There were two cots, and he smiled to himself. He wondered what to do now as he stared at him standing in the lantern light. He sighed. Part of him wanted to remove the chains and the blindfold and everything. But if he did that, what would he do? He would be frightened, alone, and surrounded by strangers heading to a fate he was unsure of. No, he would have to leave him as he was. But food was brought and he figured that removing his gag was the least he could do, and maybe the ear covers. But would it be too much? He hated that he was debating whether to unblind and undeafen someone or not.

He looked to see him smell the air as the food passed him, and John nodded. He put his hand on his arms and gently steered him until his legs hit the cot and pressed down until he sat. It had been how the nuns guided him to sit so it would be familiar. He reached around and unsnapped the mouthpiece, and pulled it away, dropping it to the cot with a clinking sound. John blinked. He had a beautiful set of lips, a perfect bow graced the top one, and the bottom was full and lush. The reddish color stood out stark against his pain skin. There was a slight purplish line where the mouthpiece left a faint bruise against his jawline. John frowned at that. He wanted to unchain him but he wasn't sure that he wouldn't run.

He instead picked up a piece of bread and pressed it to his lips. He started violently, nearly falling over, and John put a hand on his shoulder, pressing gently. He put the bread to his lips again and he slowly opened his mouth to accept it. He chewed and looked confused as he swallowed. John though perhaps he hadn't had bread before, as he fed him a few more pieces, then put a piece of the roasted fowl into his mouth. John couldn't see his eyes but he saw his dark brows shoot up and he smiled. So, no meat either. He accepted everything John gave him, but of course, John had no idea if he liked it or not because he could have hated it. He had a feeling that he would eat whatever was given to him.

John then pushed him to lie down and didn't miss the tension that the motion caused in him. Just what in the nine hells had they told him? John clicked the chain onto a loop at the leg of the cot. He then left and made sure there were a couple guards outside his tent all night and to make sure that he was okay periodically and to wake John immediately if he was in distress. He then pulled his own cot next to him so he could respond it he needed to do so. He laid down and then covered the Vestal up with a blanket. He pulled his own up and then it seemed that no time passed until he woke up to mumbling beside him. He blinked and looked over to see that he'd pulled himself into a tight ball and was talking in his sleep.

"Tired…" he muttered. John propped himself up to listen. His voice was lovely, he thought to himself. A low baritone voice and very cultured sounding. "Wanna sleep, brother," he muttered head turning a bit. "Please?"

John frowned and laid a hand on his shoulder. He was facing away from him on the other cot. He rubbed his shoulder gently until he relaxed into sleep again. He wondered what that was about? Begging his brother to go to sleep? Was that why he was so shocked at being laid down? He had so many questions, but they would be answered tomorrow, he supposed, and he fell asleep with a hand on his shoulder still.

The dawn brought breakfast and an equally surprised vestal as he was fed again. John wondered just how often he was used to eating. He frowned. Wait, had he even gone to relieve himself? He grimaced. Of course, how would he tell him? Would he? So he fed him, gave him water and then led him away from the camp and wondered how to tell him he could relieve himself. So he pressed a hand to his bladder gently and the reaction of pain of immediate, so he obviously had to go. John unclipped his hands from the collar, and released the binding between them. His hands immediately went to his robes frantically. John turned and gave him a bit of privacy. That was stupid. He wondered how long he'd had to go? By the sound, quite a while… When he was done, he didn't bother replacing the bindings, but kept the chain on the color. He thought since he was awake, that was sufficient, but he seemed confused. He sat in the carriage again and Jon jumped in across from him.

The Vestal….Sherlock, John told himself, he had to use his name… didn't seem to know what to do with his hands. Finally he put them in his lap and sat with his head down. John noticed he stayed like that most the time, head down. So many things that John would stop him doing once home. Finally, they were greeted with cheering as they were home, and they went to the castle yards. John led him gently through the crowds to whispered discussion of why the Prince was leading a chained man to the castle. He went immediately to the throne room where Greg sat snoozing upon the rather plain throne.

"Greg!" he yelled as soon as he came in, and the man started.

"I wasn't sleeping!" he announced, standing up and stumbling down from his seat.

"Yes you were, old man," John said as he clasped him in a hug.

Greg frowned and looked at the man that was being led by John. "What is this?"

John sighed and shook his head. "According to the Skylanders, my property. This is the 'bargain' I sent you message about. Their religion dictated that I marry their Vestal Prince. I agreed because it was either that or the alliance was going to fall through due to the fact the people would have rebelled. They take their religion very seriously."

"And why is he still chained and is he blinded and deafened?" Greg said, frowning as he walked around the tall, dark haired man.

"Well, I was afraid that it would be overwhelming if I removed all of that. It was bad enough when I took out the gag and then unhooked the wrist cuffs…he wasn't too sure when I did that at all, and almost had an anxiety attack. He was raised alone, with only monks and nuns around him, and occasional visits from his brothers and mother, but in public he was put in blinders, ear muffs, a gag, and everything covered up in white robe and veils, and led around by these guys with chains on them." He held up the chain. "They told me it was the chain of fate. Because he's fated to be owned by someone for the rest of his life because he's half angel."

Greg frowned, touching his hair and causing him to flinch away. "Half angel?"

"The rift there, there is a race of beings called Aerials, and to make an alliance with the Skylanders, they demanded to have a union with a human to cement it. The Queen agreed and this young man is the result of that. They sequester the half humans until they are bonded to another. And apparently, either gender can bear children in the Aerial form. They're a type of shapeshifter, from what I gathered while I was there. The Holmes family keeps power by using the religion to control the populace, so even the Queen's child had to be taken to the monks that live under the rift and commune with the 'angels'. They think they're some sort of holy beings," John said with a sigh. "Mike thought it best to agree, because if the God-king across the see comes and claims the rift, he may gain control of Aerials or their enemies the dark ones. We couldn't chance it so I took the binding ritual and agreed to a Bracken wedding on my return, so that was in the missive I sent you."

"Okay, so you've got to marry him in our laws, then, to make any children legal to be the heirs…" Greg said.

"And this also binds us to the King of Aerials. He's his father, and the Queen of Skyland is his mother, which was another reason I agreed. Having allies in extradimensional creatures is of benefit to our kingdom in the long run," John said. "But first, I think we should try and acclimate him to our ways, because there is no way I'm going to do what they told me to do with him. I am not treating him like a damned piece of property or like an inconvenience."

Greg nodded. "Does he even know what's happened?"

"I have no idea. He doesn't speak, even when I took the gag off, and seemed surprised to be fed. So I think first we take him and change him into something more appropriate, get the blasted cuffs and collar off, then take off the sensation blockers. I don't want to overwhelm him too much at once, so I'll take him to my quarters, since I can lock it. We'll leave him there until he can be used to being free of these…things," John said.

Greg nodded. "Agreed. I'll send for someone to bring clothes and food for him. Just plain clothes for him?"

"Yeah, I'll change too, that way he sees that I'm equal to him. I think he's been treated more like a slave than anything else, though from what I've seen, a strange sort of slave, but he's had no free will in their society," John said, tugging on the chain and initiating him moving.

He carefully led him to his chambers. They were simple, other than the awful wall with the floral paper on it, but his sister had chosen it so he left it. He again pushed him into sitting on the bed, and when he sat he gasped, feeling the softness of it.

"Not used to a real bed, I see," John said as he went and changed his clothes into tan pants and a plain white shirt.

In a few moments, Greg came in, similarly dressed in plain clothes but with his crown still. He was king, after all. He handed the clothes to John who tugged the Vestal to standing. He came easily and he started to undo the buttons of the robe. Again, he tensed like he had when he put him in the cot. Again he wondered what he though was expected of him. He rubbed a hand on his shoulder and he seemed to relax a little. John found, unsurprised, he wore nothing under the robes, and surprisingly, he had been groomed of every stitch of body hair. John glanced at Greg who looked back surprised at it. John wondered if it had been done just for the bonding or if it was something that they always did. Or if he was just naturally like that…

He took the chain off the collar and a tremor passed over him and John again brushed a hand over his shoulder gently. The motion again assured him like it had the night before in the tent. He then pulled the shirt over his head, and he saw the wrinkling of his brows at the motion. John carefully threaded his arms through it and he remained with a confused brow line. John then pushed him to sit, and tugged on a pair of pants over his bare feet and then tugged him up and tied the string on them to tie them. He pushed him back down then leaned over and gently took off the ear pieces. He sat utterly still and John wondered if that was a part of it. He seemed comfortable with this removal. He then smiled.

"Sherlock?" he said and his brows raised. "I'm going to take off this collar and these cuffs, okay? Then I'll take off the blindfold. I've shut the curtains so the light doesn't hurt your eyes."

He nodded slowly and held out his wrists. John smiled at Greg and unhooked them with some difficulty. They obviously were made to be opened with two hands to ensure he couldn't get them off by himself. He winced as he held his arms. It was obvious that the cuffs had been on him long enough that there was a thick red ring around them and the skin underneath was raw and irritated. He shook his head and went to take off the collar. It required two people.

"Greg, I need your help here," he said softly.

He held down the one side with two hands while Greg released the catch on the other and the thing popped open to reveal that his neck was red and irritated from extensive wearing of the collar as well. He sighed and shook his head.

"I'm going to remove this blinder now," he said gently and reached around and released the catch on the back. He pulled away the blinder and watched carefully.

The first thing John noticed was his eyes were simply stunning. They flickered between light blue and light green, sometimes settling on one for a minute, sometimes less than a second. His face was quite distinguished looking with wide eyes, and full lips. His hair tumbled about his face in a dark frame of wild dark curls. He stared at the ground right at John's feet. John kneeled and looked up into his face, getting a shocked gasp out of him.

"Hey," John said, smiling at him. "I'm John, and this is my brother, Greg. He's the king of this place, and I'm the prince. What did they tell you?"

Sherlock couldn't fathom what this was about. His bonded was on the floor instead of him. This was not what he was expecting. He had already been confused before.

"I…am permitted to speak to you?" he asked softly, trying to look away from John's eyes.

John swallowed thickly. "Yes, good gods, yes, you can speak to me. I want you to speak to me."

Sherlock nodded. "But…but what do I say to you?"

"Whatever you want…but I really want to know what they told you yesterday and the day before about me and what was happening. I want to know what they said," he said soflty.

Sherlock tried to not look around, and John could see he was resisting great curiosity. "I…am the Vestal Prince. I am the property of the Monestary of Angels and the Kingdom of Skyland until I am bonded. Then I am the property of my bonded mate. You are Prince John of Bracken. I am the property of Prince John and the Kingdom of Bracken now. I am a burden upon the mate. The mate has sacrificed his freedom to choose other mates for the duty of taking care of the Vestal. The Vestals are not permitted in public. The Vestals are not permitted to speak, sleep, eat, or act without the permission of the bonded mate. The Vestals will submit willingly to whatever the bonded mate wishes. The Vestal has no mind of its own. The Vestal must be whatever is required by the kingdom of the mate, even death should it be required. I am not to question my mate. My body does not belong to me, my soul belongs to the angels."

Greg and John glanced at each other and blinked. The verbatim telling was either practiced extensively or he had a photographic memory. He was still avoiding his face in every way possible.

John shook his head. "Dammit, that's what I thought. You've spent your life being told that, haven't you?"

Sherlock looked at him for a moment. "I am the Vestal Prince, I have no other life. That is the fate of the Vestal. Royal or not, I am merely a Vestal."

Greg sighed and sat heavily in the large chair behind him. "Johnny boy, you got your work cut out if he's going to be able to handle the Bracken style wedding. I had called in everyone immediately to set it up for tomorrow, but I'm not sure…"

John shook his head. "No, they saw him come in, there will be questions if we don't complete the ceremony. The sooner the better, we don't want the Skylanders accusing us of not following through on our end of the bargain."

Sherlock swallowed and looked down. Bargain. That was right, that's what he had been. Mycroft had come and told him that his life had been bargained away in exchange for the health and happiness of the people of Skyland. The people of Bracken were ruthless, he said. He told him to expect the worst fate imaginable because they were not a kind people. He would be lucky if only the Prince used him. He should expect to be expected to be a part of their drunken nights of debauchery. And he had to remember it was all for the kingdom. He swallowed hard despite himself. He hated this. Every bit of this. His mind still echoed with the strikes from the whip. The wounds were glamoured, a simple spell that all of his kind could do. Mycroft had said when he argued about being wed that he had to remember his lessons for the Prince of Bracken would dole out worse. He winced as his head dropped and pulled on the wound.

"Are you in pain for some reason?" came the question in front of him. His eyes went wide at the question. Never admit to pain.

"No, m-my lord," he said quietly.

"You're lying," John said, frowning. "Look, I'm not one for rules, okay, but my number one rule is don't lie to me. At all, about anything. Tell me the truth, even if you think it willmake me mad. I want to hear it."

Sherlock gasped at the strong tone to his voice and nodded. "I'm sorry, sorry, m'lord, please don't punish me, we're told not to admit to pain no matter what…" he said softly, almost too soft to be heard. "My…my brother said….said you would be harsher than he had been."

John frowned. "Punish you? For what? Come now, what hurts you, please, tell me," he said smiling gently as though dealing with a child.

"Where my brother punished me day before yesterday," he said softly. "It is still sore, I am sorry to have shown pain to you, m'lord."

"No, stop that right now," John said, standing up, drawing Sherlock's gaze upward. "Don't call me 'lord' or 'highness' or anything like that. Ask that bloke, I hate it. John is my name. Please, use that."

Sherlock nodded. "John," he said softly, still avoiding his eyes.

"That's good, now what did your brother punish you for?" he said, frowning. "And with what, you have no wounds…we changed you from the robes when you came in here…"

Sherlock bit his lip. "I…I didn't want to be bonded. I didn't want to leave home. He…he was angry that I spoke against what I was told. He used what he always uses, the Repentance. I…I cover them. It is part of the angelic blood."

John nodded. "Greg, get my kit. And you, uncover them, and let me see what was done."

Sherlock was torn. On the one hand, he was being commanded by his bonded mate, but on the other the rules of the Vestal stated never to show wounds to anyone. He began to wring his hands. "Sherlock, please, you are not a Vestal anymore, okay," John said, kneeling before him, and pushing his chin upward to look in his eyes. "Forget those rules. I'm your mate, right? The only rules that matter are the ones I tell you now."

Sherlock wasn't sure but nodded, closing his eyes for a second, and a glow encompassed him briefly. When it faded he looked away. John lifted the shirt over his head and sighed. "How often did they do this?" he asked quietly. Sherlock couldn't look at him.

"I…I was not cooperative most of the time."

To his surprise John started to laugh as Greg came back in. John looked back at Greg and took the box from him, sitting it on the bed, shaking his head.

"Lay on your belly, Sherlock," he said and the previous vestal complied.

"You laugh at me?" he asked, confused as he laid down, still tense.

"I laugh because they tried to beat your will out of you from the day you were born, and until as recently as two days ago, they couldn't do it. You still think I'll have a hard time, Greg?" he said, looking up from the obvious wounds inflicted by a horse riding crop that ran across Sherlock's back. "Seriously, there are scars on him on top of scars Greg. Sherlock did you pass a week without getting beaten for something?"

Sherlock had buried his face in shame in the bed. He shook his head. To be laid out so, it was shameful. "Damn, I'm glad we got you out of there," he said, smiling as he rubbed a thick ointment into the red wounds and scars. It was his own creation, and would not only heal them faster but would reduce the scars to nearly nothing. "Where else have you scars?" he asked, standing after he'd applied white bandages across his back.

He was unusually still and John sighed. "I'm going to finish treating you, whether you tell me or not. I am a doctor too, you know," he said with a sigh and stripped the pants off his thin hips finding, as he suspected, scars on the back of his thighs and buttocks. He quickly applied the scar salve and then had him sit up once he'd replaced his trousers.

"There, now," he said as he scanned his front. "Gods and devils, how often do they feed you? You need to gain weight, I can count your ribs," he said.

Sherlock glanced up at him. "Food is a privilege for the Vestals who obey," he said softly.

John put both hands on his hips and stared. "So, basically, if you did anything except exactly as you were told you were beaten and starved. And by the looks, that was quite often."

Sherlock didn't answer, only ran his hands over the deep red grooves in his wrists. "That's going to change," John said, reaching down and taking his hand, running a thumb over the red area. "I don't know what they told you about me or what Bracken was like, but considering how afraid you've been since I walked out of the city's gates you've been, I get the idea I wouldn't like to even hear it. Bracken is a place of equality between all people. Even kings are equal to the crafters in some ways. I attended school to become a doctor with others. King Greggy boy here is an excellent guardsman on the side. And the other nobles have trades as well. More than that, you are not my property. You own yourself in Bracken, you have been wed to me, despite the fact neither of us decided on it. But that is okay. We will make due with things as they are like many who have arranged marriages have. But you will never be beaten or starved. You will never be made do anything you don't want to do. Do you understand?"

Sherlock swallowed, brow knitting. "But…but…I'm not very likeable most the time. The monks…they called me rude and obnoxious and said that I wanted to know too many things and I ask too many questions. They said that telling people things that I see is bad…"

John frowned. "Things that you see?"

Sherlock nodded. "I don't know where it comes from, but I look at people and I just see things other people don't see. The monks didn't like it because I knew when they were having carnal relations with the nuns…I'd always receive a stern beating for that. So I stopped telling them anything…"

John laughed out loud. "That's magnificent!" he said with a smile. "Even after all that, you still did something like that. I think you are a glorious person, Sherlock. We're going to get along just fine, I think."