queen-mab
Really Experienced
- Joined
- Aug 14, 2001
- Posts
- 176
Princess Skye
In the depths of the forest, the princess paused, leaning against a tree as she tried to hear past the gasping of her breath and the pounding of her heart for any sign of pursuit.
Nothing.
Only the lapping of water in a small stream, and the gentle sough of a wind that scarcely rustled the leaves as it passed. The Princess knelt and drank thankfully. There were stones in the streambed, and she pushed a few together with her bound hands, wedging the misericord between them. With a few strokes of the blade she was able to sever the rags that had been wound loosely around her wrists. She watched as the pieces floated down the stream and got to her feet, ready to go on.
She had hoped, of course, to meet up with Simon, but from the start it had been only the most forlorn of hopes. She did not doubt that the next time she saw Simon, she would be at the head of her father's guards when she guided them back to bring the brigands to justice.
It was then that she saw, across the stream, one of her father's horses.
Her heart leapt in her breast when she realized that the markings on his coat were indeed familiar to her. It was LovesArrow, the dappled grey who had been tethered to the last of the supply wagons. He had been her own horse at home -- her special favourite -- and as a surprise her father had decided he might go along with her to her uncle's estate. How he had escaped the notice of the bandits she would never know, but she thanked whatever powers watched over her as she rose from her knees and approached the horse, whispering his name softly.
LovesArrow looked up and nickered. His delicate hooves splashed through the water as he came towards her, his head lowered to touch her outstretched palm in a kiss of greeting.
Princess Skye laid her cheek for a stolen moment against the neck of her horse. Hot tears were stealing down her cheeks as she thought of Simon still held hostage by the bandits. She hated herself for leaving him...and yet the practical part of her knew that only by leaving him had she given him the slightest hope of rescue.
In a trice she was astride the horse, her long scarlet gown kilted up over her bare thighs. She bent and whispered...and they were off.
The Princess Skye rode well. The symbiosis of horse and rider was something that had come naturally to her. When she bent and whispered love-words to her mount, it seemed that he understood her...that he ran with his whole heart. Even now, in the utmost peril, the Princess took comfort in her communion with that wild spirit. She shook back her long hair and let the wind run caressing fingers through it. Bare-breasted and bare-legged, she bent and wound her arms around the horse's neck.
They flew, their pace much faster than that which the char and the supply wagons had been able to keep on the journey outwards. Once or twice they frightened small herds of deer as they thundered past.
And then they saw the castle.
The Princess Skye sat straight, and covered her knees with her tattered gown. With one hand she drew together the edges of her bodice, and proudly approached the gates.
"Open in the name of Skye, Princess of Toran!" she shouted. The words were sweet in her mouth.
Sweeter still the looks on the faces of the guards as they ran pell mell down the drawbridge to meet her.
"Where is my father?" she asked the Captain of the Guard as he scurried to her side and knelt at her foot.
"Away, my Lady," the man stammered, looking up at a vision which would torment him for the rest of the day and the whole night too. "He marched out with his men to join the main battle forces only an hour after you left us this morning."
Princess Skye raised her head to the towers of her castle...to the banners snapping proudly in the wind. She looked over her shoulder at the road, and the woods beyond. A slow smile spread over her face.
When she turned to face the men again, she was sweet Princess Skye no longer. Even the sight of Dame Honeyfair staggering from the inner courtyard with her snowy head-dress flapping did nothing to remind her of her former life. She had a purpose now.
The Princess dropped her hand from her breasts and smiled inwardly at the audible sigh which rose from the throats of all the assembled men. Each one hurriedly looked away, it is true, but not before the sight of her had had its desired effect. The Princess could almost have laughed aloud.
A loud thwunk announced the fainting away of Dame Honeyfair. Princess Skye ignored it.
"There are brigands in the forest," the Princess said coldly. "Our guardsmen, apparently, have been very lax. That will change."
Each man she looked at seemed to be having problems meeting her eyes. Good. That pleased her. She arched her back slightly so that her white breasts spilled from her torn gown completely, destroying the composure of every man present. The sight of their confusion made her nipples harden...a strange, very enjoyable heat began to kindle between her outspread thighs.
"This lack of discipline will be tolerated no longer. While my father is away, I am in command of this castle. Every order of mine will be obeyed without question. Do I make myself clear?"
To underscore her words, she nonchalantely let the shreds of her skirt fall away from one thigh. The man kneeling at her foot flushed to blood red at what he saw. Were his eyes sharp enough to see that she was wet? She wondered...and shifted slightly, letting him look his fill at the lush pink flesh spread wide against the horse's back.
Princess Skye had a feeling that he would be most happy to serve her...in whatever capacity she might care to use him.
"Now." Princess Skye shifted her eyes to the guardsmen at large.
"My attendant Simon has been taken hostage by bandits. These same bandits planned...to exercise certain liberties against my royal person. The leader is a man named Darius. You will flush the forests day and night until you bring him and all his band back to me as prisoners. Not one is to be allowed to escape. "
The captain of the guards was still looking up her dress in a most distracted fashion. The Princess Skye rolled her eyes and shifted her foot slightly, landing a light kick against the side of his jaw.
"Yes, my Lady!" the captain gasped, and struggled to his feet already roaring orders to his men. The Princess bit her lips to keep from laughing. She had not missed the way in which his tunic stood straight out beneath his belt...as though he were hiding a whole loaf of bread in his leggings.
The Princess whispered to LovesArrow and he bore her slowly over the drawbridge, past the confused tangle of guardsmen, past the prone body of Dame Honeyfair (who was being fanned by a kitchenmaid holding a half-plucked chicken in one hand).
As the portcullis was closed, she turned her head once more.
"Oh...and please bring Simon to me as soon as you have secured his release. It occurs to me that perhaps there might be ways unexplored in which he might be of service to me."
In the depths of the forest, the princess paused, leaning against a tree as she tried to hear past the gasping of her breath and the pounding of her heart for any sign of pursuit.
Nothing.
Only the lapping of water in a small stream, and the gentle sough of a wind that scarcely rustled the leaves as it passed. The Princess knelt and drank thankfully. There were stones in the streambed, and she pushed a few together with her bound hands, wedging the misericord between them. With a few strokes of the blade she was able to sever the rags that had been wound loosely around her wrists. She watched as the pieces floated down the stream and got to her feet, ready to go on.
She had hoped, of course, to meet up with Simon, but from the start it had been only the most forlorn of hopes. She did not doubt that the next time she saw Simon, she would be at the head of her father's guards when she guided them back to bring the brigands to justice.
It was then that she saw, across the stream, one of her father's horses.
Her heart leapt in her breast when she realized that the markings on his coat were indeed familiar to her. It was LovesArrow, the dappled grey who had been tethered to the last of the supply wagons. He had been her own horse at home -- her special favourite -- and as a surprise her father had decided he might go along with her to her uncle's estate. How he had escaped the notice of the bandits she would never know, but she thanked whatever powers watched over her as she rose from her knees and approached the horse, whispering his name softly.
LovesArrow looked up and nickered. His delicate hooves splashed through the water as he came towards her, his head lowered to touch her outstretched palm in a kiss of greeting.
Princess Skye laid her cheek for a stolen moment against the neck of her horse. Hot tears were stealing down her cheeks as she thought of Simon still held hostage by the bandits. She hated herself for leaving him...and yet the practical part of her knew that only by leaving him had she given him the slightest hope of rescue.
In a trice she was astride the horse, her long scarlet gown kilted up over her bare thighs. She bent and whispered...and they were off.
The Princess Skye rode well. The symbiosis of horse and rider was something that had come naturally to her. When she bent and whispered love-words to her mount, it seemed that he understood her...that he ran with his whole heart. Even now, in the utmost peril, the Princess took comfort in her communion with that wild spirit. She shook back her long hair and let the wind run caressing fingers through it. Bare-breasted and bare-legged, she bent and wound her arms around the horse's neck.
They flew, their pace much faster than that which the char and the supply wagons had been able to keep on the journey outwards. Once or twice they frightened small herds of deer as they thundered past.
And then they saw the castle.
The Princess Skye sat straight, and covered her knees with her tattered gown. With one hand she drew together the edges of her bodice, and proudly approached the gates.
"Open in the name of Skye, Princess of Toran!" she shouted. The words were sweet in her mouth.
Sweeter still the looks on the faces of the guards as they ran pell mell down the drawbridge to meet her.
"Where is my father?" she asked the Captain of the Guard as he scurried to her side and knelt at her foot.
"Away, my Lady," the man stammered, looking up at a vision which would torment him for the rest of the day and the whole night too. "He marched out with his men to join the main battle forces only an hour after you left us this morning."
Princess Skye raised her head to the towers of her castle...to the banners snapping proudly in the wind. She looked over her shoulder at the road, and the woods beyond. A slow smile spread over her face.
When she turned to face the men again, she was sweet Princess Skye no longer. Even the sight of Dame Honeyfair staggering from the inner courtyard with her snowy head-dress flapping did nothing to remind her of her former life. She had a purpose now.
The Princess dropped her hand from her breasts and smiled inwardly at the audible sigh which rose from the throats of all the assembled men. Each one hurriedly looked away, it is true, but not before the sight of her had had its desired effect. The Princess could almost have laughed aloud.
A loud thwunk announced the fainting away of Dame Honeyfair. Princess Skye ignored it.
"There are brigands in the forest," the Princess said coldly. "Our guardsmen, apparently, have been very lax. That will change."
Each man she looked at seemed to be having problems meeting her eyes. Good. That pleased her. She arched her back slightly so that her white breasts spilled from her torn gown completely, destroying the composure of every man present. The sight of their confusion made her nipples harden...a strange, very enjoyable heat began to kindle between her outspread thighs.
"This lack of discipline will be tolerated no longer. While my father is away, I am in command of this castle. Every order of mine will be obeyed without question. Do I make myself clear?"
To underscore her words, she nonchalantely let the shreds of her skirt fall away from one thigh. The man kneeling at her foot flushed to blood red at what he saw. Were his eyes sharp enough to see that she was wet? She wondered...and shifted slightly, letting him look his fill at the lush pink flesh spread wide against the horse's back.
Princess Skye had a feeling that he would be most happy to serve her...in whatever capacity she might care to use him.
"Now." Princess Skye shifted her eyes to the guardsmen at large.
"My attendant Simon has been taken hostage by bandits. These same bandits planned...to exercise certain liberties against my royal person. The leader is a man named Darius. You will flush the forests day and night until you bring him and all his band back to me as prisoners. Not one is to be allowed to escape. "
The captain of the guards was still looking up her dress in a most distracted fashion. The Princess Skye rolled her eyes and shifted her foot slightly, landing a light kick against the side of his jaw.
"Yes, my Lady!" the captain gasped, and struggled to his feet already roaring orders to his men. The Princess bit her lips to keep from laughing. She had not missed the way in which his tunic stood straight out beneath his belt...as though he were hiding a whole loaf of bread in his leggings.
The Princess whispered to LovesArrow and he bore her slowly over the drawbridge, past the confused tangle of guardsmen, past the prone body of Dame Honeyfair (who was being fanned by a kitchenmaid holding a half-plucked chicken in one hand).
As the portcullis was closed, she turned her head once more.
"Oh...and please bring Simon to me as soon as you have secured his release. It occurs to me that perhaps there might be ways unexplored in which he might be of service to me."
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