I have not written new fiction since early forever, please be kind. Furthermore, I hate writing non-canon. Forcing myself out of my comfort zone here…
N/V - SilMil AU (Mish)
Wrong Place, Wrong Time
Among the fields and and grasslands and terrain a shining meteor fell to earth. Nephrite, Lord of the Plains, seer of stars, one the four sentinels of the High Prince, voyaged out alone, surprised to see the satellite was actually a woman – and yet not the one his visions had foretold. In front of him, a blonde warrior – armed with a lethal sword instead of thunder and lightning from the heavens - demanded to see his liege. As sunrise peaked around them, she took stock of his person and found him wanting. Was he also not who she had expected?
Surmising she had journeyed from the Lunar kingdom (they were partial to brilliant entrances and exits), Nephrite set out with his guest – warily keeping an eye on her lithe form. The journey was arduous, but she did not complain. She rode, but rarely spoke – not giving anything away. In this, he was her guarded reflection. Still, he couldn't help it as his admiration for her grew – whether or not she is who was supposed to land in front of him, he cannot deny the attraction he feels. As they near the great city, Nephrite finds himself growing unexpectedly anxious – not ready to share her with the court.
"We reach Elysion tomorrow," he announces, careful not to betray himself.
If she feels anything, if this information has any impact on her, she keeps the emotions to herself.
"Might we stop in a place near clean water?"
The request is a fair one. Although her hair, the waves of blonde have held up their vibrant color and unwavering luster, he supposes bathing is in order before going to see the Prince.
Near sunset they reach a stream. He tends to the horses and pushes thoughts of his very naked traveling companion out of his head. One more day…
"Nephrite."
His name has never given his cause for alarm – but spoken in this tone, he is instantly wary.
"Come."
As his mind shuts off, his feet take over and he finds himself at the edge of the stream. Translucent water slides of the body he's dreamed of is perfect, more amazing than he had imagined. His own clothes, odorous from the journey fall from his body and short of the necklace bestowed upon him by the Prince, he joins her in the water. She gazes at him – blue eyes fierce and he reaches out, pulling her close, noticing the shiver of her body as he pulls her flush against the hard planes of his form. She is warm in the cool liquid and he begins to drink her up like a man dying of thirst. For a few precious minutes he is able to forget his responsibilities, the precious predictions of the stars and focus on the feel of satin skin and a feminine core of explosive heat.
The next day, in the courtyard of the castle, they instantly are overwhelmed by courtiers, diplomats and his brothers-in-arms. He doesn't miss the moment when the quicksilver eyes of General Kunzite sweep over her small figure, latch onto to the sword. As he knew would happen, if he even ever had her, Nephrite's lost her. The sting is sharp – cutting faster and deeper than any blade. She was not to be his – not for a moment. The stars have another in mind, but it doesn't make the loss any less devastating.