Royalty Brought Low Pt. 01

Panting with exertion the Prince stood before the ornately carved doors that led to the castles inner sanctum. At last the end of his quest was at hand, to vanquish the evil pretender to the throne and restore peace to his kingdom. Reaching to his belt he gripped his billhook and proceeded to hack at the ancient wood, watching with satisfaction as with each blow the splinters flew in all directions as he sought an opening. It had not been an easy journey, from the saddle sores riding hard through the dark forest chased by all manner of unnatural creatures, to his aching muscles where he had battled through the castles defences and guards. But just a little longer, then he could rest with the whole kingdom rejoicing and marry his betrothed.

Finally sturdy wood yielded to the curved metal hook and the Prince stuck his arm through the jagged gap to release the crossbar on the other side. With barely a squeak the doors swung in on their hinges, to reveal not the elaborate and grandiose spectacle he was expecting. But a rather small and self-contained room, lit by glowing balls of light that hung mid air like spectres. At the far end across the black stone floor was a high backed throne on a raised dais. And lounging on the throne was the self-styled Queen who glanced up at the intrusion, and signalled to her guard that flanked either side of the dais. At her command her bodyguards ran towards the interloper, who expertly parried the first thrust, sidestepped and sliced open the first guards arm just below the chain mail, causing him to drop his sword. The Prince easily read the guards movements, anticipating and countering their blows until he forced an opening which allowed him to land two critical blows. With the two guards chocking and disembowelled, noisily but swiftly dying, the Prince focused his attention to the usurper, who had not moved throughout the entire fight, but was just sitting there with a confident and unconcerned air about her person.

"And now your wicked reign will come to an end, evil Queen!" he declared and charged forward to deliver the fatal blow, failing to observe the floating lights glowing brighter with each stride he took. Once he was close enough to see the triumphant smile on her face, the Queen snapped her fingers, and out of the air a set of glowing green manacles appeared, immediately snapping round his wrists and boots. The Prince cried out at the sudden pain from the tightness of the supernatural restraints, the chains around his ankles shortened which forced him to regain his balance. At the same time the wrist manacles snapped together, causing his numbed fingers to drop his trusty sword. Within a matter of seconds he had been captured with consummate ease, so the rumours had been true!

The Queen tutted and shook her head, as if admonishing a wayward child, "Foolish Prince, you never stood a chance. You're not the first knight sent to dispatch me, and I have safeguards in place known only to myself." Her eyes raked over his wavy blonde hair and chiselled features, though sweaty and dirt streaked from his many exertions, she seemed to like what she saw. "Though it has been rather dull around here of late, you will be a very delicious distraction."

"I will never give in, vile witch!" his response was unthinking and automatic, all his life he had been told magic was evil and wrong, here was the final proof.

"A witch I may be, but certainly not vile," she disputed and stood gracefully. For the first time since he had opened the doors, the Prince was able to focus on her attire. A simple gold crown sat perched on top of a mass of red hair the colour of blood, which cascaded onto pale bare shoulders. A form fitting bodice of black and red velvet emphasised her voluptuous figure, with a flowing black skirt that reached to the floor, which would have been demure if not for the slit up one side which exposed a tantalising glimpse of long legs encased in thigh high boots. The Prince couldn't help but make the contrast to his beloved, whilst she was slender and willowy, this creature was curvaceous and sensual, with her outfit designed to enhance her assets rather than conceal. It made the Prince feel acutely aware that his traveling clothes had become blood-spattered and torn from long nights riding and fighting. Then his eyes goggled as the Queen's hands ran sensuously up her bodice, his mouth going dry at the depth of her cleavage. Her smirk widened at his reaction as she continued to tease him, delicately scraping her black nails across the swell of her breasts, her other hand sliding down to pull aside the curtain of her skirt, exposing a milky white thigh encased in leather hide boot.

The Prince became aware of a straining against his leather jerkin and cursed himself for falling for this creatures wiles, wrenching his gaze away. "Foul temptress, the pure of heart can withstand any petty seductions," he bluffed, masking his arousal with a veneer of righteous indignation.

The Queen chuckled at his overly dramatic statements, and with one curved finger under his chin, dragged his gaze to hers once again.

"I promise you this, my proud Prince, by the end of the week you will be singing a different tune. You will be begging me for a touch, for just one taste," she vowed, but in contrast to her captives arrogant boasts, her words were said like a simple stated fact, irrefutable. As his blue eyes met her green, all he could see in them were a complete confidence in her prediction coming true. It unnerved him.

"You're delusional as well as mad, to think a noble such as I could ever desire a filthy enchantress such as you, except to eliminate your accursed existence," he denied once more.

One of the Queens hands disappeared under her skirt, and the Prince thought the perverse display was going to continue, however she withdrew a short ceremonial knife, the blade glowing with inlaid enchantments. The Prince braced himself for the impact of feeling the sharp edge slicing through his skin as she swiped across his torso, and send a silent prayer asking his father to forgive his failure.

But when no pain followed he glanced down to see his soiled shirt hanging in tatters across his arms, exposing his muscled shoulders and toned physique. The Queen nodded in approval, clearly pleased with her newest specimen.

"I'm going to enjoy breaking you," she told him, and gesturing with her free hand to maneuver the manacles, she escorted the prisoner to her dungeons.