Sherlock Imagines

Wolf, Sir. (MoriartyxReader, Medieval AU)

Inspired by an edit -PanicAtTheLibrary- did. I'm not an AU master, but this was just an idea I had. I'm gonna try this...

James wasn't the good guy, and never would be. He enjoyed causing trouble, walking on the edge of danger. For a daughter of one of the most prestigious lords in the realm, it was practically unheard of for them to talk to even the common folk, let alone a lowly thief. You knew it was wrong, but James was just different around you. Usually he acted insane in front of the towns people, but with you, he was chivalrous, and loving. He was your one true love, the one who made your heart ache when he wasn't there.
And that's exactly what was happening now. James had gone on a bit of a trip, just to visit some old friends in a nearby village. But, O! Did you miss him. It'd been months since he returned, a year was growing fat, and worse yet, your birthday was coming up. Most of the time this would mean a grand celebration, and this year would be no different, except for the announcement that you were to be wed to the King's little brother. Sir William Sherlock Scott Holmes had been promised your hand in marriage, and it would be announced at the celebration this very evening...
James would be back in time for your birthday. Of course, you had no way of knowing this, the same as he had no idea of knowing your hand had been promised to the knight. James and William were nemesis to the very bitter end. Being someone both of such high status, and cunning beauty should've been James' warning. Mycroft, himself, wasn't wed, but his younger brother certainly had to be. And it would have to be to someone fair and with status, just to keep their bloodlines pure. Neither truly had a heart, though Mycroft was very concerned with the functionality in which his kingdom was run. To them, it simply didn't matter. The only purpose a woman had to them was bearing a successor to the throne, and that was exactly their plan.
Meanwhile, James kept heading back to his love, racing to get there in time to see her before people flooded around her. Even if he didn't, he longed to see her again. To feel her skin soft on his, and lips connected in a vow to each other. His heart beat only to hold her in his arms, to get entranced by the vision that was her. So he kept heading towards the land he'd been brought to long ago. He had been a serf, nothing more than a slave to the lord, but out of luck he had escaped. Yet, he still managed to sneak back to his old work grounds to see the woman he held dear. And tonight he would waltz right into her birthday celebration disguised as a nobleman, knowing only she would know it was really him.

Everyone gathered to your father's estate. Men were drinking, partners were dancing, and you, well, you were being held back. Waiting at the top of the stairs like a trophy while your fiancé took his time arriving. You had hoped that maybe, just maybe, your James would whisk you away from this dreadful party just before the knight arrived. Alas, that hope was fruitless as Sir William arrived through the back door.
"I present to all thee, Sir William Sherlock-Scott Holmes! Brother, to ourst great King, and most cunning of all his knights!" Your father proudly introduced him, and in so his valor. Sherlock had no problem soaking up the immediate applause that drowned out the sound of the small band playing. You had known it wouldn't be long now, that your father would leap on the opportunity of soon being related to such a monarch, but he couldn't have chosen a worse time. As James entered, he immediately spotted you at the top of the grand stair case. Your smile was absent, of course, he knew he could change that in an instant, but something was wrong... He couldn't place it until he heard the second announcement of the evening.
"I gaily inform thou, all, that my daughter is engaged to be wed to Sir William, when the moon is full!" An uproar of applause followed as the Sir took your hand and escorted you down the stairs, his head held high while yours attempted to drown out the people around you. Girls were crying, clearly upset not to be chosen as the handsome hero's place. Men congratulated the young Sir, but it was all white noise to you. Your eyes were dead, as you were inside. James attempted to push through the crowd that had been quick to grow thick around you, but to no avail. How had this happened so quickly? Why would you agree to marry such a pompous bastard?! In truth, you hadn't. The decision was made for you, and before you had any time to react, the planning had already begun. The celebration dragged on many asking you to dance, and your fiancé had no problem handing you over to each one. But the moment James' held your hand, your heart lit up. You didn't even need to look at him to know. He escorted you kindly to the floor, your movements graceful and delicate from years of practice. You felt like you were rising from ashes, being with him again.
"Meet I in the courtyard." He whispered as he pulled you in towards him, before you whisper back out. You nodded to confirm you had heard. Once the dance was over you were returned to his Sir's side, him analyzing the other aristocracies and charming them with his skills.
"I wilt receiveth some air. I'll return shortly." He spared you only a nod as you curtsied. Hurrying to meet James, you slipped past the people, ignoring their praise in finding a good husband. The moment the doors swung open you saw him there, waiting, and immediately rushed up to him, hugging him dearly. He clutched you close to him, before lifting your head to enlace your lips in a much needed kiss. His starry eyes stared down at you after, and despite the joy of being reunited, his despair was evident.
"Thou is marrying Sir William?" His voice was pleading for an answer that wasn't yours to give. Placing a soft touch to his cheek, as desperate eyes scoured for what he hoped to be a lie.
"I hasth no say in thy matter. I's opinion is futile, and worthless. I am sorry, my love." Neither knew of the approaching force, the one that had guaranteed your hand for the knight, and could easily smite James where he stood.
"If you don't want to do so, then come with me! Run away with I back to my home lands! We can escape, we will have our freedom, and each other's hearts to warm us!" He begged you, his hands clenching desperately around yours. Your eyes wandered, water threatening to spill over them. Run away? Everything you'd ever known was in your home, and though the castle would be new scenery, it wouldn't be a change. What he was asking you to do- leave everything you'd ever known- run away, in a decision that would surely get your head sent astray from your shoulders.
"James, our heads would be rolling before we made it past the treasury!" He had to be crazy, you could never run fast enough, "No matter where to we run, nor how fast we do, they'll find us, and have our heads for it! Tis is treason!" You rationalized, hoping he'd think more clearly. He shook his head, and your words along with. He had a plan, and you could see it clearly brewing.
"I had been doing it my entire life! Thy only reason I return is to see thou. My love! We could be free of this anarchy! Together! Please, I need you! Say yes, please?" His head fell onto yours, his words never ceasing to amaze. His black hair, which usually scruffed around his face was combed back, perfectly inline with itself. One word and he'd take you from this horrid existence..?
"Yes." You breathed out, his lips gingerly touching yours, encasing them in another loving testimony. By the time it was over, he was already being dragged away from you by castle guards.

"Thou is forbidden to speak to thy lady y/n, ever again." The king decreed. Your hand had been promised to another, yet the thief refused to give you up.
"No, Sir." He was forced to kneel, something James Moriarty would never do on his own. He'd die before he let your hand be permanently taken by the king's younger brother.
"Why 'No, Sir'?" Your father demanded, sickened by, what he described as, the mutt in front of his king, "Why do you think you would not do it again?" To be honest, James would do it again, not that he'd tell them that. He'd be stuck here, then. No, he'd answer how they wanted him to, be the insane man they'd deemed him.
"Because they'd send me back to this place, Sir." He answered completely truthful, not caring what labels they gave him. Sooner he got out of here, sooner he could work to return you to where you belonged--With him.
"Because they would send me back to this place, Sir!" Your father's mocking snide rang, "A conditioned response indicating fear of reprisal. There's no moral sense at work here at all." He informed his king, hoping the young man would be sent to death, unable to further 'ruin' your life.
"In my experience psychopaths rarely show the least sign of inner change or development. 'Vulpes pilum mutat, non mores', as they say. The leopard never changes his spots." He stated proudly, the king nodding along, only half paying attention. James had played every singe one of his cards right, let Mycroft win every hand. He didn't appear as any threat.
"Wolf, Sir." Had Mycroft been paying closer attention, he'd have noticed this correctment, and would've chosen a better decision, in the end.
"Did you speak, boy?" The lord hissed, and it took everything in James not to ridicule him of his intellectual lacking. Instead he bit his tongue, thinking of the sweet day he'd overthrow this dastardly monarchy.
"Sorry, Sir, but vulpes means wolf, Sir. 'Vulpes pilum mutat, non mores' means, literally...
...the wolf changes its fur but not its nature." Had he not been looking down, his own wolfish grin would've been quickly spotted. Still lost in his own mind, the King heard none of the exchange, and simply banished away the foreigner.
James left, knowing it wouldn't take him long to build his own kingdom. He'd never truly leave his one love.