"My King... Husband?... Eric..."

He stopped and turned to face his wife. (...You are still such a very beautiful woman...) "What is it, my dear?"

"I've been with John and his friend, Sherlock."

"How is the young guardian?"

"He is hurt very badly, but he will survive. The Green Witch should be able to heal and "disappear" the lacerations on his back from those vicious lashes.  But I do not know how she will overcome the treachery of the Guard Captain." With a touch of uncharacteristic venom, she continued, "I would like to deliver a few "stripes" to that one myself."

The king drew her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. "It will be handled, my dear. I plan to allow St. John to mete out the justice for this perfidious act himself... if for no other reason than to see how he does handle it." The queen glanced at her husband's thoughtful expression. "I let this go as far as it did to let St. John see what reckless disregard or inattention can do. This was a lesson on responsibility. It is too bad that his Guardian had to suffer so to teach my son this simple lesson."

The curious queen queried, "What exactly are you trying to teach him?"

"He needs to know that the law must be tempered with mercy, or it can be used to inflict great cruelty as was done today." He touched his wife's flushed cheek. "I know you may disapprove of my methods, but he needs to know that his word will be law. He must learn the law inside and out. He must know what is law and think about what he is saying and doing. He will be responsible not just for his soldiers, and his guards, and his family, but for every living soul in his kingdom. He must needs know that he is doing that which is right."

"My king... My darling. There most probably will be new law soon."

"How do you mean?"

"John is in love."

"He hasn't even met any of the princesses yet."

"He is in love with Sherlock."

"The devil, you say!"

"They are devoted to each other and so in love that they cannot imagine being parted. That is one reason that today's treachery is so great. John is hurting as badly as his friend, his ,uh, love... St. John does not care that Sherlock is a commoner or that he is a male. He has vowed to marry him, and to quote John, 'He will have him.'" She continued her tale, anticipating his obvious questions,  trying to forestall the king's objections.

"I do not believe that Sherlock deceived him or led him on or anything of that sort. I actually believe that Sherlock has tried to discourage him, to turn him from this present course. But our son is adamant. Sherlock is just such a sweet and lovable boy that St. John could not help but love him... And Sherlock loves him just as deeply."

"Well, I'll be damned."

"I believe St. John knows his responsibilities to his guests this week, to us, to the kingdom. But he will have his Sherlock for his sanity, for his own happiness." She stood on tiptoe and kissed her husband's lips. "My husband, you will not interfere with our son's well-being, will you?"

"Of course not. I am hurt that you would think that I would. His example will create a better climate for our gay citizens. It is not a comfortable position to be in right now." The two royals began a slow stroll to their quarters, wrapped in each other's arms, each thinking about the future. The queen started planning a wedding. The king began thinking of giving the Heir Apparent some real responsibilities and perhaps semi-retiring himself.

The next morning, after a stressful night for the two young men, the Green Witch, Garwinia, a lovely young woman of only one hundred forty some odd years, arrived very quietly and appeared in Prince St. John's quarters before the boys were expected to awaken. She found the exhausted prince asleep on Locke's cot, still dressed in yesterday's rumpled clothing. His dreams were a mixture of desperate love for the injured boy and extreme guilt for having let him be hurt as he was. She turned her attention to the young man on the bed. His dreams were tinged with his pain, but were a testament to absolute devotion to the young prince. Her brows rose in great high arches. These two young men are in love with each other!

Locke lay on his stomach, whimpering fitfully in his sleep, the pain having returned when the queen's concoction had worn off. Garwinia was entranced at how very pretty this Royal Guardian was. No wonder the sweet prince was so enamored of this gorgeous person. If he was remotely as good to the prince as he was good looking, he would be good for Watson Hold, as well. She must do what she could to help him... to help them.

She drew several botanical items out of her hand-woven bag and crushed them together with a pestle in a small wooden bowl. Adding a few drops of her own decoction of sweet wine, she blended it into a thick reddish paste. Holding her hand below the bowl, she allowed a small flame to lick about the bowl's edge until the contents were warm and the potion had thinned out. Seating herself carefully on the bed next to Locke, she moved her hands closely over his wounded back, close, but not quite touching him, and mouthed a soft sing-songy nonsense verse. Rousing from his restless sleep, Locke felt his back warming and tingling. The skin that was pulled taut eased and softened, causing him to sigh in grateful relief.

Noticing a weight on the bed, he thought that his prince was sitting next to him. He squirmed a little until he could see, and was met with what he thought must be an hallucination. A strikingly attractive woman sat by him, singing a sweet melody of not quite words. Noticing his gaze, she  beamed an enchanting smile his way. "It is good that you are awake." She proffered the wooden bowl and bade him to drink all of it as quickly as he could.

He tried to reach for the quaff, gave her a helpless look and whispered, "I cannot."

"Oh, I am so sorry." She closed her eyes and raised her hands to assume a supplicating position. Locke's rigid body rose from the bed and slowly turned over so that he was half-sitting and being supported as if by her arms. The bowl settled gently in his hands. Bemused, he quaffed it all in one long series of swallows.

A hot churning twist burned through his chest and abdomen and he felt like he was floating in still, cool water. His eyes closed, and he drifted over green mountains and plains of waving golden grain and deep blue oceans and fluffy white clouds. The visions whirled and swirled for what seemed like a very long time but was truly only a few moments. When he awoke he was lying on his back on the pile of pillows, and he and the prince were once more alone in the prince's apartment.