thought I'd check in - still hard at work on some WIPs, including Prince Wyatt + another shorter body swap post-Olympics fic - but since Prince Wyatt is so long and going to be even longer, I wanted to share a little teaser snippet to whet everyone's appetite:
It’s approximately 855 days into Prince Wyatt’s captivity when a new knight joins the palace guard.
His room at the top of the tallest tower is well-appointed; an appropriately golden cage for a prince. But despite its luxuries, Wyatt is often bored. At first he had tutors, but it became readily apparent that Wyatt was disarmingly good at charming the men who came to teach him Latin, geometry and advanced diplomacy techniques, and the men were eventually replaced by old stern spinsters and then finally by just reams of written lectures and boxes of books. Wyatt enjoys his studies, but he misses actually talkingto people.
The guard takes him out every day for his morning practice—to a little used courtyard on the other side of the castle, bordered on all sides by high walls he doesn’t have a hope of climbing.
How does he know? He’s tried.
After escape attempt number twelve, Wyatt fully expected to be confined day and night to his room, but the order never came. The guard taking him to the small courtyard doubled, though. And while they teach him all the fighting techniques he’ll probably never use because he’s locked up in this stupid castle by his stupid, vain, egotistical bitch of a stepmother, they never let him have anything more effective than a dull wooden sword.
And even Wyatt isn’t good enough to overwhelm a six member guard with only a piece of kindling as a weapon.
All of this to say, Wyatt is bored, a lot of the time, and spends a good portion of his day gazing out the window, at the largest courtyard of the castle, cataloging its comings and goings. Hoping for a miracle that doesn’t ever seem like it will come. But even as he accepts that, he can’t quite give up hope yet.
In the meantime, he waits, and he watches.
Wyatt notices immediately when a new guard arrives on the scene. They all train together in the main courtyard, and when they do, they take off their gleaming silver armor, shedding it like snakes do their skin. The first piece off is always the helmet.
On one bright spring morning, Wyatt catches a glimpse of red out of the corner of his eye and he realizes as he stares at the top of the visible head, wavy auburn fair falling around his face, this man must be new.
The other guards watch him carefully, keeping their distance but their bodies inevitably angled in his direction. Like he’s an object they aren’t sure they can quantify yet.
Wyatt watches curiously as the redheaded man unbuckles his silver chest piece and then pulls the loose white shirt over his head, shaking out his hair after.
Wyatt is twenty. He’s been looking out the window for almost three years now. A good portion of his entertainment is watching the stripped down guards spar with each other. He knows what he likes to see. But no shirtless guard has ever drawn his attention so quickly.
The man’s shoulders are pale and broad, but freckled deeply enough, Wyatt can see the dusting of them clearly from his tower room. Muscles ripple as he stretches his arms. His dark red hair brushes the back of his neck.
He is contained, but coiled. Clearly dangerous.
And if Wyatt can sense it, from the third floor, the others can too, which explains the careful distance they are all keeping.
The lead sergeant gestures to the newcomer, holding out a practice sword. The man picks up his own, and they face off from each other, testing each other’s mettle at first. Keeping a healthy space between them. Wyatt gets little flashes of the man’s face, but keeps hoping he’ll eventually turn towards his window. He wants to see him so badly, his heart beating loud, so loud, nearly drowning out the heavy thuds of the wooden swords with every expert series of parries.
The newcomer is good. Very good. Controlled, but deadly.
Wyatt can immediately see why he’s been added to the guard. Such a swordsman will be a valuable addition. Maybe he’s so good he’ll be added to the group that always accompanies Wyatt to the training ground—though even as he hopes he knows that’s unlikely. The men who have been handpicked to take him are the older men, the most accomplished men. Also the men not at all inclined to glance in Wyatt’s direction. Most importantly, they are all happily married.
This man is young. Very young. Perhaps too young to be married yet. Wyatt finds himself swamped by hope.
dededos
kianamaiart
izzy806
blakekathryn
