Princess in Hiding (closed)

[ArcticAvenue]

They called him Tanner in the village. He never gave them his real name. They call him that because of the nice work he does with the skins and furs brought to market. He, of course, hunts for as much to sell the meat; yet even the other villages will bring their hides to Tanner for him to work. Other than that, there is no reason for him to give them his real name. Or anyone whom may cross his path.

Most never did cross his path, though, it was too hard to find. His land was too far from the main road. The cabin was modest, but well built and sturdy. The bar was sturdy as well, if small; more of a stable for his horse and two goats. Most the land was wooded, save for a patch cleared to grow enough grain for the animals. It all sat on a small lake, easy access to the streams and runs where deer, stag, and rabbits are easily harvested. In these northern woods, away from the madness of the royal cities and merchant lousey ports, his home was a quiet haven. This is solely why he came to this place. This is solely why it is his own.

Of course, when Tanner came to these woods just two years prior, there were questions. Why such a young man have the coins to hire those to build the cabin and barn. Why the Earl so willingly let this prime hunting ground be given to the lad. Where he grew such skill with his bow, his knife, his blade, and turning it into furs so easily. Even his accent sounded as though he came from somewhere different, somewhere much in those mad cities and lousey ports. In this part of the great and wonderful world, those questions don’t get asked, and never get answered.

All they knew was that he was good at what he did. Sturdy, strong, he kept his face clean and his brown hair cut short. He favored the dark leathers made from his own hands over that of wool or cloth. Favored when around his own homestead to leave his shirt to the side; and only needed coats during the snowy winters. He cut his own wood. Cured his own meat. Cultured his own cheese. Only bought bread when he had a favorable hunt. He would occasion the tavern, allowing himself to drink more than he should, but nearly always chose to sit alone at the table and drink his ale in peace. As if he was someone who had seemed enough or talked enough in his life.

Tanner acted as though he was a broken man, now living to finish out a life that was too full than it needed to be. Yet with few lines around his brown eyes suggested he was too young to be so broken. He couldn’t even been off his mother’s teet long enough to know how cruel the world could be. No one could have see such cruel things and be so young.

But that is not for the townsfolk to know.

They only needed to know to call him Tanner, even if that isn’t his real name.

 

[Emstar202]

Princess Shaeleigh ran as fast as she could through the northern woods, which, admittedly, was not very fast at all. She’d been on the run for what felt like hours now, she wasn’t sure, and she was exhausted. For all the maps and books she’d studied so carefully over the years, you’d think she’d have a better idea of where she was, but all she could gather was that she was in the northern forest, and darkness was falling.

Shaeleigh felt panic start to seize her. She had never been so alone. She was a young woman with a dress torn to rags in the middle of the uncharted northern forest. Tears pricked her eyes. What a cruel world to let her survive the ransacking of her royal family’s castle only to die in nature’s cold grasp. How cruel a world for the one surviving heir to the royal kingdom to exist in such a state of desolation. The Princess had no choice but to go on, hopelessly meandering through the darkness.

It felt like hours before she finally saw it; a light. A golden beam shining through the thick darkness of the wood. The princess quickened her step, stumbling over herself. The plain dress her servant had given her to wear caught on a branch and tore yet again. By the time she reached the small clearing where the light shone, her dress had been ripped up to her thighs and one of the straps had torn, causing her left breast to slip out slightly from the top of her dress. Her golden locks had blackened from the dirt and mud of the forest, and she’d lost both her shoes.

It was in this pitiful state Tanner would find her upon the morn; a young half naked woman shivering in the darkness of his barn among a pile of hay. Vulnerable, cold, and in desperate need of help.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

At dawn, as is his way, Tanner shifted off of his feather bed, the last luxury from years past, to place his feet on the cold wood floor. He left the windows open, accepting the warm night and preparing for the warm day ahead. Yet arising he felt the need immediately to slide into his boots off of the chill of the floor. There would be no need for a fire this morning. Bread and yesterday's rabbit & potatoes meant no need for a stove. No need to wash. No need to hurry.

Milk, though, was needed. If left alone, the goats would be itching for their milking before the sun gets too high.

Tanner was dressed in the leather pants he slept in running down to the aforementioned boots. He shaked out a tan cotton shirt that had was clean a few days ago, and good enough for work about the farm. His hair was rough from just arising, and once outside to the fresh air, his eyes squinted to break from the sleep.

The first sign of something off was the barn door was askew. A man can grow sensitive to his own ways, can understand where he left things, how his normal is. The door just seemed off.

As was the hay past on the floor past the entry.

As was the small gate to a stall.

As was the woman lying inside of it.

She was asleep, though not seemingly comfortable there. Her hair was matted and messed, her feet bare, the skirt tattered to her legs. Yet his eyes were more drawn to how the top of her dress fell away to present her breast. Maybe from her face or shape he could tell she hadn’t had children yet, but the breast only pronounced it louder. Firm and sturdy, as if none had drunk from it’s milk; but more than just the practicalities, she was alluring. It was rude, ungentlemanly to look upon such a sight, but he had not seen one of such find beauty exposed as such, or for that matter one at all for a long time. His internal urges drove his eyes to cast downward, examining the shape of the rest of her, and starting to guess what lie beneath that failing dress.

A flush of anger went across his mind. Hatred. He was stronger than this. Stronger than such thoughts.

Besides, she was trespassing.

He reached with his boot and kicked her foot.

Keeping his head turned to not suggest the carnal thoughts that were just floating through his mind he called, “Oy, Woman. Wake up.”

 

[Emstar202]

The Princess dreamed she was back in her castle hosting an elegant party with all her closest friends and family. Knights from neighboring kingdoms all sought her hand to dance, and for once her father was letting her choose who she got to dance with. The Princess loved parties; she was content in her position and had never wanted for everything. The dream seemed so eerily real that the sharp kick to her foot came as a double shock.

Shaeleigh lurched upwards and promptly scampered further back into the stall upon seeing an angry (and, admittedly, ruggedly handsome) man a few years older than her leering down at her. She realized her breast was exposed and quickly made to correct it, grasping at her chest in a desperate attempt at modesty, though it was quite difficult considering her dress was ripped to her thighs and made ragged by her perilous journey from the night prior.

"Please don't hurt me," she begged. Her already petite form appeared even more so as she brought her knees to her chest. She was terrified. This man was huge and she had no idea of his intentions. "I'm so sorry I was trespassing. I..." she hesitated. What was her story? She'd never thought of one! Last night her mind had been consumed with thoughts of escape and finding a place to rest, not formulating a new identity for herself. She quickly spouted out the easiest excuse she could think of. "I got lost in the woods and I was so terrified. I needed a place to rest. I will leave right now...I'm so sorry." Despite her words she made no move to get up, for he was blocking her way and she was afraid as to how he would react.

 

[ArcticAvenue]

There was something different about the woman that he couldn’t immediately place. Once awake, she drew immediately modest. While only moments that she remained exposed, he could still clearly see her frame of what lay under that tattered dress. She was neither frail, nor fatted. A body that suggested she wasn’t of the wilderness as it wasn’t toned and lean from fighting for her own sustenance. Yet it was hard to picture a girl like that spending her days sitting by a hearth cooking. She knew to cover herself; not like those women rumored to be spend their days earning coin in barns and stables with passing men.

Above all else, there was a softness to her movements. One he thought seemed familiar but very out of place in these woods. A mannerism that remained the part that only left him confused.

There was the matter at hand, though. She awoke in his barn, and as his mind spun on who she was, it also spun with why she would be here. More directly, why would someone need to be here. Remaining at the edge of the stall to give her space without a path to escape he spoke with control.

“What you running from,” he guessed. “What is it. Your husband? Travelers? Thieves? I’m guessing it be not the Guard - not like them to tear into a girly like they did to your dress.”

 

[Emstar202]

"I'm not running from anyone," she insisted rather unconvincingly. Her lower lip began to tremble and she wiped a stray tear from her eye. "I told you already; I got lost in the woods last night. Wh-where am I anyway?"

She rocked forward slightly on her knees and examined the imposing man more closely. He looked to be only a few years older then her. She wondered if he lived here alone or if he had a wife or children. She shivered in the cool morning air and clutched her body harder to keep warm. She looked back to the brown haired man and hoped he would take pity on her and stop asking her questions. "Please sir... do you have anything I could use to cover myself? My dress is torn to shreds and I'm so cold."

 

[ArcticAvenue]

With a long deep breath, he weighed what he should do. There was little he needed to do to consider, because after all was finished he considered himself a good man, a kind mind. No one who would consider himself to be a such would not do what he should to take care of one in immediate need. Yet, when someone hides in your barn, it is usually to avoid being found - which means someone will come to look for her.

“You are on my farm,” he finally responded. “I am sure that doesn’t completely answer your questions on where you are at; but I am also sure that your answers do not completely fulfill my questions of you.”

He turned away from her and moved towards the barn door.

“I will get you a coat, but it is not one to keep unless you can pay for it. Do not leave this barn until I return.”

Tanner moved to the house, and quickly found a long coat made of sheep hides giving it a fair grey color. It was soft, and while small for him would fit her nicely. It was fairly new, hoping that he would sell it at the next market day for a good coin. So he would have to make sure that this woman doesn’t escape without a means to recover his cost.

I wasn’t long, but he made sure that before re-entering the barn, he knocked first. Force of habit from his duties long since removed, but something where respect to one whom maybe quartered meant announcing an entrance properly. It was his barn, but it was good to let her know he was there before he entered this time. And enter the barn he did.