Archive of Our Own ^beta

“KATE!”

The cry caused Kate to stir unwillingly from her dreams - always of a grand room, of where the ceiling dazzled with what looked to be a million candles and draped in a thousand flags. Though pleasant, each dream always ended with the looming shadow of a mysterious figure with the head of a jackal.

A low voice reverberated through her mind, akin to the growl of the wolves known to haunt the very darkest corners of the wood. “I bring a gift for the princess of eternal sleep.”

Each time, the voice sent shivers down her spine – and it took several deep breaths to remember they were only dreams.

Still, it was a vision that returned to her every night.

It had to be a dream, Kate reasoned to herself as she raised herself from her bed, for such a fantasy world was a far cry from the only home she had known. Her thatched cottage had low ceilings, and she found herself with a crown of bruises from where she’d bumped into every low timber. Unlike the grand room, the cottage was forever too dim, as if the leaves of the trees wished to hide her from the very rays of the sun itself.

The continual thudding of footsteps from below hinted at the continued discontent and distress from her Godparents. Rubbing at her eyes, Kate angled her head towards the stairs leading downstairs from her room. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

Her Godparents really didn’t like her sleeping in for some reason.

As Kate skipped down the stairs, she was greeted with the exact same scene that awaited her every single morning. After all, there was no variation to their routine, and therefore no reason for there to be any changes. Despite the cramped nature of the cottage, her three Godparents still chose to exist close to each other, as if pulled together by some unknown force. Each moved with a certain vigour that confused Kate, causing her eyebrows to furrow downwards.

There was hardly a rush – after all, few pressures existed outside in the Forest.

The Doctor strutted up and down the expanse of the room, wrapped up in his cloak of blue, barking out orders to the other occupants. Mel, in her gown of green, responded to each with an affirmative from where she sat over a mixing bowl. As for Ruby, dressed in robes the very shade of her name, her third Godparent sat by the window, needle and thread in hand.

“Kate!” Ruby called out in her harsh and indignant tone. Though she was the youngest of her Godparents, Ruby nevertheless made up for her youthfulness with a wiseness beyond her years, and the authority that accompanied it too. “You should not be up so late! We’ve told you before-“

The familiar warning grated on the young Kate’s nerves. “Yes yes I know Godmother-“ She acquiesced, skipping forwards to bestow a kiss upon Ruby’s forehead. It never failed to leave Ruby’s cheeks as red as the jewel itself, and it certainly silenced her concerns at present.

One down, Kate noted silently. Two to go.

“Ahem,” the Doctor interrupted, pausing his pacing. He gestured with a sharp finger towards Ruby, and certainly would not be won over so easily. The specks of dust that clung to his coat spoke to the several hours already spent awake and working. “That’s no way to speak to your Godmother-“

“But she’s not speaking to me?” Mel looked up from her mixing bowl. Of the three Godparents, she was the most absent, as if her brain was only tethered to her body by a single string, lost in a cloud of daydreams.

It took all of Kate’s control to not roll her eyes. She loved her Godparents, there was no doubt of it, but it was not always easy to love them.

“So what are you doing?” Kate asked loudly, trying to change the topic of conversation. She dropped down onto the table beside Mel, reaching out to snatch at the bowl of apples. Her teeth bit into it with a satisfying crunch, and the crisp taste danced on her tongue with splendour. “Anything to do with my birthday tomorrow?”

It only resulted in three pairs of eyes directed her way. “None of your business, young madam. Now go!” The Doctor insisted, now pointing towards the door with one hand, and the other settled upon his waist. “You’re late.”

Kate didn’t need to be told twice, and nor did she need to acknowledge it. The basket was already sat on the table – and it took no time at all to snatch it, attach the necessary equipment needed to her person, and to swan towards the firmly locked door.

It was a matter of seconds to open it, though after she cast herself outwards, she didn’t bother to close the door behind herself. As she walked away from the cottage, she fancied she could hear the all-too familiar outraged cry from the Doctor. In lieu of a response, Kate only smiled.

This was a part of her routine she very much enjoyed.

From across the valley, peering out of a grand window from the castle atop the cliffs, Prince Christofer Ibrahim watched the Forest with a frown.

Whilst maps and treaties may classify it as falling within the confines of their kingdom, the Forest was a land of its own right, and with its own rules. It seemed to have a way of tampering with perceptions, never leading you down the same path twice. The Forest was perhaps better understood as a living Labyrinth, with its ever-shifting walls, and a secret kept concealed at its core.

He’d spent years wondering just what that secret might be.

The Forest had always appealed to Prince Christofer – not just as a form of adventure, to map the unknown, but as a form of escape. Like any good Labyrinth, the Forest welcomes those that may be lost – though will remain silent on what the correct path may be.

In theory, Christofer’s life lay out planned before him, as clearly as the courtyard outside.

Ascend the throne. Marry the Princess Katherine. Reproduce. Rule. Die.

The certainty of his fate rankled him at his core, like a collar that could not be shifted – if he was to succumb to his fate, he yearned for it to be one of his own choosing. To be like one of the folk outside, to live with far fewer weights upon his shoulders and to live at least with the illusion of freedom.

His mother, the Queen Yvonne, disagreed.

“Son, you must put to rest these notions,” she chided from her gaunt throne, her mane of blond curls spilling out from beneath her crown like a waterfall. “You know what you must do. Ascend the throne, marry the Princess-“

“How can I be expected to marry the Princess?” Christofer curtly intervened, turning sharply from his outpost and storming ahead to the throne, his jet-black cape wafting in his wake. “I don’t even know her.”

Yvonne raised an eyebrow, and leant forwards imperceptibly. “You have met before.”

“I’d hardly call glimpsing a swaddle of cloth a meeting,” Christofer muttered under his breath, turning his gaze towards the floor. Despite his relatively young age at the time, it was not a day that would escape his memory any time soon. The God Sutekh’s shadow had loomed large that day, and over his memory ever since.

It was hard to forget Princess Katherine’s curse, that she was to fall into a deep sleep on the eve of her sixteenth birthday - or that ever since, the babe had not been seen.

Christofer had been curious, once. Had wondered just what happened to that small innocent babe, with the soft curls of golden hair and such vivid sparkling eyes. But as he grew older, Katherine merely represented that path which he was meant to take. Her shadow accompanied him in every lesson, every treaty, every meeting with her quiet and reserved father, the King Lethbridge-Stewart.

It was hard not to develop a sense of resentment for a ghost.

Her location seemed to matter not. Queen Yvonne and King Alistair were both agreed that such a truth would not be revealed, though Christofer quietly doubted if either knew – both held onto the idea of the girl, for there was no body left behind to mourn.

As if on cue, Queen Yvonne’s voice sounded once more. It did not ring out before, a booming sound, it was far quieter – and much deadlier, akin to a silver blade. “You will marry the Princess.”

Christofer did not offer a comeback, for it was a familiar battle he fought with his mother. Arguing with his mother was but one part of his routine as a Prince, in preparation to rule the kingdom on his own – or with Princess Katherine, should she magically reappear.

Whilst she could control what he studied, she could not control what he thought.

Or, what he did in his free time.

“Apologies Mother, I am required elsewhere. I shall see you later for supper,” Christofer bowed deeply before turning upon his heels and walking as quickly as decorum would allow him to. There were no shouts of outrage, merely disappointed silence – though it hurt his ears just as much as a yell might have done.

He did not stop until he reached the stables.

It was the work of minutes to saddle his horse, and to head for the castle gates – and he did so with a curl of a smile on his face.

Now this was a part of his routine he very much enjoyed.

Kate didn’t consider herself naïve.

Whilst the Forest may have been the only home she’d known, it was no safe haven. It regularly reverberated with cries from parts unknown, and creatures with too many teeth to even count. Indeed, her solo excursions were a recent addition to her routine, and had only been permitted upon several conditions being met.

Her Godparents may have been disorganised, quarrelsome, and downright nuisances at time – but they could not be called stupid. They had prepared her well.

Kate padded softly along the familiar path, the moss soft beneath her bare feet. In this area, the sun seemed to pierce through the evergreen leaves with ease, bestowing a warmth to the otherwise chill Spring air. It helped that she was not alone on her journey. Following alongside were her faithful companions, woodland creatures she’d once nurtured and saved. Each of them held a special place in her heart, though it did not feel quite the same as how she felt for her Godparents.

(So isolated was Kate, that she knew not to label such a sentiment as ‘friendship’)

Osgood the Owl soared above, scanning the path ahead for any signs of trouble. Shindi the squirrel hopped from branch to branch, his chirp loud for all to hear. As for Josh and Sam, the rabbits hopping besides her feet, both kept close but not enough so as to trip her up onto the ground. Whilst other woodland creatures may join her adventures, it was this quartet that remained loyal, following wherever she may tread through the forest – for which she was forever grateful, as their company seemed to keep the shadows of loneliness at bay.

“Come along,” she beckoned. The formidable oak tree that now grew in the centre of the path was the landmark by which she navigated towards her usual hideout.

It took a further minutes’ walk hopping along stones in the gurling stream before she reached the familiar green grass. Upon reaching the familiar clearing, Kate set aside the basket of berries she’d collected, which would do perfectly for a post-training snack.

She shed the purple shawl onto the ground with a shrug of the shoulders – thus revealing the glinting weapon that had hung by her side for the journey’s duration. Unsheathing the sword, Kate marvelled at its shine in the rays of the sun – a glimmer which rivalled that of her own, the silver blade in comparison with the woven gold of her own hair, tied back in a loose hold.

Kate eyed the aging wooden stumps at the opposite end of the clearing, made weary with a million cutmarks, with a smirk.

She was ready.

Christofer didn’t often stray from his usual haunts in the Forest – as per the echoes of his mother’s warnings that perpetually lingered in the back of his mind. Whilst Queen Yvonne may rule the kingdom with a fist of ice and steel, she was not unkind.

Nor stupid.

He’d seen first-hand the horrors that lay in the Forest, especially in those regions bordering on the Forbidden Mountains – where the very God Sutekh was rumoured to lurk still, in the ruins beyond the horizon. Local villagers often spoke of hearing his howl during the darkest nights, when even the moon seemed to scared to shine its light.

Though Christofer was a prince, that did not mean the very landscape itself catered to his every whim. Sometimes, the Forest did not play by the usual rules and allow him to pass through freely.

Upon reaching the half-way point of his usual route through the woods, Samson the horse whinnied firmly. A glance ahead confirmed the path to be blocked by a fallen tree, though to the side there seemed a new path. It was less trodden, seemingly untouched by man, and yet there were still signs of life.

Glimpses of emerald green and diamond blue seemed to poke through, hinting at an entirely new side of the Forest as yet unseen. It was a temptation Christofer could, and would, not refuse.

Encouraging Samson down the path, the scenery changed before his very eyes. As soon as the final edges of the Forest he knew cleared, it felt he’d entered an entirely new Forest – for this one was brighter, and cheerier, than any of the acres he’d explored before.

It was magical.

Usually, Christofer rode Samson in a canter through the woods, without a passing thought for the trees that passed as a mere blur. This time however, he rode through with a gentle trot, his eyes drinking in each new sight to see. The lakes with a glass-like quality of reflection. The gentle kiss of the breeze on his cheeks.

He’d never seen the Forest so alive.

It was not quiet either, compared to his usual treks through the forest. The gentle chirping of birds unseen was a welcome music to his ears, and the trickle of nearby streams seemed as steady as a lullaby. Though, one sound seemed out of place. It was sharper, and harsher than anything else he’d seen in this new stretch of the woods. As if it better belonged in Christofer’s world than this new Forest. As his mind mulled over the noise, he seemed to stray ever-closer, and it grew ever-louder.

Until its nature could no longer be denied.

Christofer brought Samson to a halt immediately as soon as the sound was loud enough, the realisation hitting him as swiftly as an arrow – he knew what the sound was.

Fighting.

“Samson!” Christofer whispered to his horse, jumping off with a practised ease. “Wait here.”

He did not linger, waiting for a response that would not come. Instead, Christofer walked ahead, hunched over enough that his usually large frame was much reduced compared to normal. Though pain shot up his thighs from the uncomfortable position, it was an old friend – for he’d been trained for moments such as these.

For Queen Yvonne, there was no distinction between the Warrior and the King – both must defend themselves and their peoples with honour and valour, no matter the sacrifice.

Not even a minute had passed before Christofer reached an exceptionally thick set of bushes, though it could not quite muffle the sounds of fighting. Now that he was closer, he could better ascertain just what was happening. There was at least one combatant still standing, though had not ceased swinging their sword judging by the repeated heavy breaths and curt cries.

Though, the noises were higher in pitch than expected.

Raising an arm through the bushes, he forced a couple aside – and through the newly-found gap, he perceived the back of a single figure. The only identifiable trait in the lone figure was her blonde hair, cascading down her back like a waterfall of spun gold.

Judging by how it shimmered in the rays of sun that pierced through the canopy of trees, Christofer was sure it must truly have been precious.

He could not make out anything further, just her voice. “Take that!” she cried, aiming her weapon forwards towards some unknown assailant. Even as it was tinged with exertion, he found her voice to be the sweetest sound, would cause even a siren to lose their way.

Christofer settled a hand upon the hilt of his sword.

He was ready.

Though Kate’s muscles ached, it was the satisfied sort of pain that came from a long period of exercise. Indeed, the tree trunk that substituted as her foe certainly had come away from their encounter with far more scars than it had borne before. It likely would be retired within the week. Tree stumps did not last long where Kate was concerned, after all.

From their perch on the nearest tree, each animal watched with interest. Indeed, Kate fancied that the heads of Sam and Josh were cocked aside, their ears a tad lopsided. She did not think it to be possible for a rabbit to look disappointed, and yet both creatures seemed to accomplish it with ease.

“I find myself tired,” Kate spoke to the animals with a practised ease, though she did not relinquish her hold upon her sword. “Though you still seem dissatisfied? Must I fight another round?”

Her eyes flickered across to Osgood, who’s responding “hoot” seemed higher in pitch than usual – and which Kate could only interpret as an affirmative.

“Very well then. One more time,” Kate sighed heavily, though with a fond look on her face. In truth, she could not quite bear relinquishing her independence just yet, for returning to the cottage only meant a return to the smothering nature of her Godparents.

Perhaps one more round would not hurt.

Just as she turned around, her skirt fluttering around her knees in a most graceful move, she paused. The spin of the dress came to an abrupt halt, and it awkwardly dropped back into place. Behind where she’d stood, she was certain there’d been a noise.

Her eyes flickered across to her friends’ – and their eyes seemed as alert as hers.

Crack.

The rustle seemed to originate in the bushes directly behind her.

Kate breathed out slowly, and strengthened her grip upon her sword.

She was ready.

As Christofer crept beyond the relative boundary of the bushes, too entranced to notice the gradual lack of cover, he did not notice the stiffness of the lady’s figure.

Nor the shoulder she sent backwards directly into his face.

He fell backwards onto the ground upon contact, releasing his grip upon his sword to reach up towards his nose. There was no trace of blood seeping from his nostrils, nor an alteration to its shape, but there was certainly the beginnings of a throbbing soreness beneath his skin.

Usually, Prince Christofer prided himself upon his demeanour with his subjects – though it was hard to remain police when nursing an injured nose, however.

“Ow!” Christofer exclaimed sharply. “What was that for?”

Though he looked up towards the lady in outrage, it was not an emotion she shared. Instead, she seemed to shrug with carelessness, whilst directing her sword at his person still. Though the sword in her hand was held outwards for a great deal longer than several seconds, it did not waver, and nor were there signs of her growing weary any time soon. “A strange man in the woods, forgive me for being cautious.”

He could not deny the logic, proffered coolly and calmly. It seems the lady was no stranger to attacks.

Christofer made a quiet mumbling sound he hoped would be interpreted as an apology. Under the heat of such a glare, he cast his eyes towards the ground.

After several seconds had ticked past with no signs of change, Christofer glanced back upwards. Her expression had softened, ever so slightly, and her sword was slowly aimed away from his neck. “And you are?” She asked, slowly lowering her sword back by her side.

It still rested in her hands, but was no longer aimed at his throat – Christofer considered it a resounding victory.

Though it had been her hair Christofer had been first entranced by, there was a magnetism about her entire person. The lady’s eyes glimmered with such determination, and though not dressed in riches, still appeared perfectly elegant.

She was a vision.

It took several seconds before he comprehended what she had even said, which compounded his intrigue even further. Christofer’s identity was known throughout the entire kingdom, after all, there were few that lived in ignorance. “I’m…Christofer. Call me Christofer,” he finished lamely.

To his surprise, the lady chuckled. It was a deeper sound that he had expected, but no less pleasant. Hers was not the laugh of a warbling songbird, but instead that of a ringing bell. “Well, Christofer,” she teased, extending out her empty hand. “I’m Kate.”

As Kate helped the strange man stand up, she was slightly taken aback at the way her hand tucked into his. The hand was far larger than her own, but his was a gentle, soft touch. In fact, she found his warmth refreshing, and she didn’t quite want to let go. Judging by his continued gaze upon her face, and his own failure to let go immediately, he shared the sentiment with her.

“What are you doing here Kate?” Christofer asked, not without a trace of accusation in his tone of voice.

The question bothered Kate, and she allowed her hand to slip from his. “I live here, with my Godparents.” She stated the answer in an almost droll tone of voice. In truth, she was not sure how else life could be lead. Judging by Christofer’s face, this was not the expected answer. “In the woods?” He asked slowly. “And not the town?”

Kate frowned, and glanced towards the castle. It was a familiar part of the landscape, visible even in the depths of the Forest. It was a constant reminder that life existed outside the confines of the Forest, though her Godparents would not indulge her with stories of it, or journeys to explore it.

It was a land unexplored, the adventure denied unto her.

“The Forest has always been my home,” Kate finished, turning back to face Christofer. “I have grown up here, took my first steps down by the stream, learnt to fight here-“

“But why fight?” Christofer interrupted, stepping closer towards Kate. “Surely that is the duty of a man?” She found herself having to crane her neck upwards, so much taller he loomed than he. Now that he was closer, Kate could also detect a new scent, which she attributed to the stranger. It was richly spiced, and heavenly enough that she couldn’t resist a further inhale of breath.

As she breathed in and out deeply, Kate was all too aware of her beating heart – it seemed to race with all the exertion of a run through the Forest, and yet she’d stood still this entire time.

It was intoxicating.

She was not so distracted however as to ignore the words he had spoken. His physical attributes merely invoked a delay in her response. “Is that what you are then?” Kate asked, not able to resist the question of her own. She stepped forwards, reaching out a hand to trace along his arm. It was quite different to her own, veiny and muscled where hers was softer. “It’s not as if I have seen many before.”

Christofer seemed to inhale sharply at her touch – and she drew away quickly, as if burnt.

His eyes seemed to rake over her again, though with a curious element to them. “Yes,” he eventually spoke, a touch deeper than before. “I am a man. Ladies, such as yourself, do not typically wield swords or bows.”

Kate couldn’t help but raise her eyebrows, and allowed a sharp laugh to escape her throat. The notion, after all, was ridiculous. “Do your ladies have to deal with thieves hiding in the woods? Mysterious men? Villains?”

It was not her intent to scare him, but his eyes widened nevertheless. “I did not realise,” he spoke hastily, reaching out an arm to rest upon her shoulder. “Are you okay, have they hurt you?”

His continued proximity, Kate realised, was not unwelcome.

Rather, the opposite.

“My training has meant none of them have been able to hurt me for several years,” Kate spoke quietly, never breaking his gaze. “My godparents make sure they go about on their way again and they’ve never found us again since.”

Though the Forest was perpetually alive with noise, it seemed to disappear in that instant. All Kate could hear was the sound of her breaths intermingled with his. Still, his hand remained on her shoulder. “It must be difficult.”

Kate quirked an eyebrow. “Rarely do I have such civil company as yourself.”

Her remark seemed to undo whatever spell had been cast on them, for Christofer leant back in laughter. It rang loudly and clearly, as inviting as the waterfall during the height of summer. As for his smile, it was just as bright as the moon during the peaceful nights, its glow warm and inviting.

It was a lovely smile indeed.

Indeed, she’d never felt anything close to how she felt in his presence.

He was altogether new, and something completely familiar.

As if they’d met once before.

After Christofer restrained his laughter, he noticed Kate had pulled backwards.

Though there was much wrong with the idea of Kate - namely her home, her lack of recognition, and of course her education in sword fighting - it seemed to fit her just as well as her dress. Indeed, Kate proved a thought-provoking puzzle, and one he did not want to leave behind. 

He did not want to say goodbye.

The thought scared him more than he wished to admit.

“I must go,” Kate spoke in a hurried tone, turning her head back towards the animals that lingered at the back of the clearing. “My Godparents shall be expecting me, no doubt.”

“When can I see you again?” he asked without hesitation, stealing her hands so that he could cradle them within his own grasp. Her eyes widened, and flickered down to their now-interlocked hands.

A gentle blush flushed across her cheeks, one that Christofer was sure was mirrored along his.

“Tomorrow,” she decided, glancing back up to meet his eyes. “We shall meet here tomorrow. Perhaps you can attempt to defeat me in combat, though I don’t envy your chances.”

Christofer laughed, and with a final squeeze of her hands, released his grip. “Until tomorrow, dear Kate.”

Though Kate turned and walked in the opposite direction of the clearing to Christofer, her gaze regularly turned back over her shoulder towards his. There was a curl to her smile that was intoxicating, and it was the sort of smile he wanted to see painted upon her face every day.

Even a day spent apart seemed too long.

He stood at his vigil, watching Kate disappear until the patter of her feet was no longer audible, and her golden hair had disappeared amongst the foliage. Even after all traces of Kate had vanished, he remained there a while longer, before a determined whinny from Samson reminded him of the real world that awaited outside the Forest.

Christofer returned to his horse with a smile upon his face, and a lightness to his step.

Indeed, he’d almost entirely forgotten the throbbing pain that continued to emanate from his nose (and which Queen Yvonne would berate him for several hours later).

She was unusual, indeed.

And yet, quite altogether familiar.

As if they had met once upon a dream.