Summer's End; Highlander/Shakespeare; Teen
Jun. 5th, 2011 02:45 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
morgynleriPrompt: Ancient (#25/1000), Montjoy (thank you, lferion!)
Title: Summer's End
Fandom: Highlander, Shakespeare History Plays
Genres: Alternate Universe, Crossover
AU: NOS
Rating: Teen
Characters: Haerviu (Montjoy)
Word Count: 367
Summary: Loss is a grief more ancient than he is.
Time falls away when he's in Henry's presence. The force of personality the young king brings to bear on those around him is enough for him to feel breathless and caught in the moment as he hasn't felt since he was a young man himself. A fire that burns with all the frantic energy of mortality, though, and when it dies in the fading days of a summer's end, he feels all the colder for its loss.
Loss is a grief more ancient than he is, and he all but flees from Paris in an attempt to outrun the pain that he cannot hide from. Riding east, the tabard of France left in rooms that look as if they've been struck by a great wind, with nothing there to tell anyone where the man called Jehan, the Montjoye King at Arms, has gone. Nor anything left of the gentle herald that Harry England had so ensnared from that first meeting. He cannot be that man right now, has forgotten how he subsumed his personality so completely into the role he had played.
For now, he is merely Haerviu, a man who has lost another lover to the onward press of time. Another family, though he perhaps could have chosen to live a life in England to watch over Henry's son as best he could. Save that he knows he cannot risk being recognized for his previous life, and the awkward questions that would follow. Burning alive is not an experience he wishes to have.
East, and ever eastward, then, until he reaches steppes ancient and vast, winds blowing sharp with the tail end of winter. Cutting through to his bones, and wearing at the jagged edges of his grief. He wanders north from there, eventually taking vows as a priest, letting the cadence of religion and faith draw free the poison of anger from his soul as the wind wore out his grief.
Familiar routine, from one life to another. Eventually the loss will be smoothed away enough that he will risk his heart once more, and remember that ancient grief when it is lost to mortal passion. And it shall be, as now, worth that pain.
lferion!)Title: Summer's End
Fandom: Highlander, Shakespeare History Plays
Genres: Alternate Universe, Crossover
AU: NOS
Rating: Teen
Characters: Haerviu (Montjoy)
Word Count: 367
Summary: Loss is a grief more ancient than he is.
Time falls away when he's in Henry's presence. The force of personality the young king brings to bear on those around him is enough for him to feel breathless and caught in the moment as he hasn't felt since he was a young man himself. A fire that burns with all the frantic energy of mortality, though, and when it dies in the fading days of a summer's end, he feels all the colder for its loss.
Loss is a grief more ancient than he is, and he all but flees from Paris in an attempt to outrun the pain that he cannot hide from. Riding east, the tabard of France left in rooms that look as if they've been struck by a great wind, with nothing there to tell anyone where the man called Jehan, the Montjoye King at Arms, has gone. Nor anything left of the gentle herald that Harry England had so ensnared from that first meeting. He cannot be that man right now, has forgotten how he subsumed his personality so completely into the role he had played.
For now, he is merely Haerviu, a man who has lost another lover to the onward press of time. Another family, though he perhaps could have chosen to live a life in England to watch over Henry's son as best he could. Save that he knows he cannot risk being recognized for his previous life, and the awkward questions that would follow. Burning alive is not an experience he wishes to have.
East, and ever eastward, then, until he reaches steppes ancient and vast, winds blowing sharp with the tail end of winter. Cutting through to his bones, and wearing at the jagged edges of his grief. He wanders north from there, eventually taking vows as a priest, letting the cadence of religion and faith draw free the poison of anger from his soul as the wind wore out his grief.
Familiar routine, from one life to another. Eventually the loss will be smoothed away enough that he will risk his heart once more, and remember that ancient grief when it is lost to mortal passion. And it shall be, as now, worth that pain.