When his sword was sharp and his purpose keen, his wit fresh, and his flesh unscarred he would look for adventure in every waking. Once in the forest…
The soft light of dawn filtered through dew coated leaves flicker across his eye lids. They twitched with each shadow, once, twice, three times and then opened. Blue green orbs sparked in the light, till they fell upon a yearling stag grazing on heather not ten feet away. Eyes fixed his right moved slowly, silently for his bow. Instead they met warm skin.
He sat up with a start, the bounding deer forgotten. Beside him stretched a form beneath his cloak. At one end a shock of coppery hair and at the other a fair ankle bejeweled with emeralds leading to a perfectly formed foot, lightly calloused, and nails painted the deepest blue.
He reached out and flipped back the upper end. Two wide and startled eyes matching the blue of the nails stared back at him.
“You’re real!” said the warrior.
“But I dreamed you,” cried the fair young maiden.
“No I dreamed you!”
She sat up. His cloak fell to reveal shoulders of alabaster, the exquisite curves of perfect clavicles, and then the smooth field of her upper chest, and nothing to obscure each curve and slope. She clutched his cloak to her chest just before the curves of her breasts were fully exposed. She peeked once beneath the cloak and gasped.
“You cad, what did you do with my dress?”
“Cad? Me? Lady if you can’t keep better track of your clothes I can’t help you. A better question might be, ‘What are you doing with my cloak?’”
“I am holding on to a shred on my remaining decency after your ravishment of my body in the dark of the night.”
“Oh, you wish!”
She drew the cloak tighter against her chest with one arm and raised the other in tight fist. “Come near me again and I will defend myself.”
He shook his head. “Dear lady, maybe we have gotten off on the wrong foot here.”
“Wrong foot! You call this getting off on the wrong foot? You steal me from my bed, strip me bare… All naked and vulnerable in the night and do… do who knows what to my lithe young body…”
He put up his hand. “Oh, please! Before your go and write this romance novel fantasy of yours could you do me one small favor?”
“Favor? Don’t you think I’ve done enough for you?”
At this she scuttled backwards. “Just try, I’m not helpless in the night now.”
“Miss, I’m not moving. I’d just like you to check one thing for me.”
“Check yourself? Have you been ravished in the night as you fear?” Under his breath, “as you wish?”
“Check myself? I’ve never heard of anything more disgusting. You want me to touch myself, touch my most private, most intimate places, while you watch? I… I…”
“Hey, I’ll turn my back.” And he did. He stood and moved off about five feet and turned around to study the verdant glade before him.
She kept her eyes on him as one of her hands slid beneath his cloak. The hand stopped and soft gasp came to her mouth. Dropping her eyes she also dropped the cloak, both hands now exploring her most intimate nature. “Damn, damn, damn.” She whispered. Quickly she looked back the warrior standing tall before her. His back was broad, his shoulder’s wide. She stood pulling the cloak around her. Her lips parted but no words came out. She adjusted the cloak so that it covered all of her, all but one long line of flesh between her breasts, across her belly and then over one hip and across her thigh. Her tongue slipped from between her teeth, moistened her lips, upper and lower, and then once across the teeth themselves. Lips parted, “you can turn around. I owe you an apology. I have not been ravished.”
He turned. His eyes quickly noted the artfully arranged cloak. He stepped forward until he stood right in front of her. Close enough to feel her quickening breath from between her parted lips. He hand rose towards her. She quivered but did not step back. The backs of his hands brushed against the thick fabric and then pulled the edges together. “You might be more careful how you wear what clothes you have. Someone might get the wrong idea.”
She licked her lips one again. “And what idea might that be?”
Running his hands lightly along the now closed edges of his cloak which now hung straight down the front of her body, “I might get the notion you would welcome my hands upon your skin, that you might want me to pull this, my cloak, from your body and bare all of you to the sun’s warm morning rays. I might even get to thinking that your moist parted lips would welcome my own, that you might want them to wander over every curve and secret of your beautiful young body.”
She swayed unsteadily.
His hands reached out and grasped her by the arms. “Steady there. One might think you grow weak in the knees, that he might with but a gesture take you to the ground. That he could open you like a book and write new chapters in the deepest secrets of your body.”
“Oh! Might one…” she whispered leaning in towards him her eyes half closed.
For a moment he leaned towards her lips, then sighed and pulled away, stepping back out of reach.
She stumbled slightly her eyes snapping open. “What?”
“I am sorry princess but I will not have you in a moment of weakness. Though my lips burn to unite with yours I will not have the slightest ambiguity between us.”
“Princess? You know then who I am?”
He bowed low but kept his eyes fixed upon her face. “You are the Princess Gwenfaer. First born to King Salomon and his lost Queen, favorite to the king and rumored to be possible heir to the throne.” Standing, he regarded her with a focused eye. “The question I have though is how did you come to be here, in this forest, under my cloak, and clad in your very best reignment?”
She looked down at his cloak pulled tight around her. “You cloak? My best reignment?”
He smiled wide. “You know I don’t mean my cloak. I mean the exquisite form beneath my lowly cover. But this does not answer the question. How did you come to be here?”
“You really did not spirit me from my castle while I slept?”
“I have seen your castle.” He shook his head. “No one warrior… even one as able as I could take you by stealth or by arms from your keep. Is that what you remember? Going to sleep in your bed?”
“I… I’m not sure. The evening seems unsure in my mind.” She turned and walked a half dozen paces, head down and silent, then she paused and sat upon a log which was at the edge of the clearing. She gasped and looked up. “I was not in my chamber. I was in my nurse’s tower. We were… My brother had been talking to my father about marrying me to the Hougenauts. Yes, I had gone to Meredith asking her help…” She grew silent and looked away.
He gave her time to continue but after minutes past, “And what happened? Did she help you?”
Her head snapped back. Her eyes met his straight on, all the breeding of ages of monarchs alive within their blue.
He dropped to one knee.
“Warrior, what is your name?”
“Your Highness, I am Fontance. I am called The True among my people.”
“Fontance the True. That is a Nordix name. Is it not? Do your people still hold the ways of the heath?”
“My mother was wise as her mother was before her. My sister now holds the wisdom of my village.” His eyes grew wide. He nodded his head in understanding. “Your nurse is too?”
“Yes, my warrior, my nurse too.”
“And if I may be so bold what magic did you both perform there in her garret?”
“My life was about to spin out of my control. My brother had convinced the King to marry me off for the best purposes of the kingdom. If I was going to lose control of my life…” Her voice faded once again.
He reached out and gently took one of her hands in his. “I ask once more, what magic did you two perform?”
She squeezed his hand as if it was the only thing holding her from a great fall. “If I was going to lose control of my life I would be the one to choose as to how that would be. My nurse, Greta, Priestess of Freya, performed for me the rite of submission. My will is no longer my own, my life is no longer mine. I am Freya’s to as she wilt.”
He returned her grip in kind. “And you awoke beneath my cloak here in the forest as naked as the day you were born.”
She smiled knowingly, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I would like to think that my nakedness is a great deal better than the day I was born.”
“No doubt. No doubt.” His cloak had shifted once again giving hint of just how much this was true. “And how do you interpret this turn of event? To what purpose has my Lady Freya brought you here?”
“Your lady? Are you also dedicated to her?”
“My sword is Fangorn’s tooth. Named for her companion hound. My arrows are loosed by her word.” He unlaced his jerkin exposing his chest. There above his heart was the glyph of the Goddess. “And my heart is hers.”
The princess shrugged her shoulders. His cloak slid away to puddle around her upon the log. Her breasts were high and firm. There tips pink and crinkled. “Freya is a wise and generous Goddess. Will she share your heart?”
He stood pulling her to her feet and slowly pulled her into his arms. “Yes, a wise and generous Goddess. I believe that is precisely why she brought you here.” And their lips met.
Later, waking to the call of the raven far above, both figures bare but for the course cloak wrapped tight around them. They kissed and stretched. “You know, of course we will have to fight for your kingdom and for your people.”
“Of course, my lord.” She smiled as she pushed him onto his back and sat astride him. “It will be so much fun.”