To Lunambra Pt. 03: To Freedom

He wore the same armor he had the morning he saw her there on the balcony, though now it was stained from the road, the tabard frayed and the boots coated in mud. The two men stared each other down for a long time, and then Baeden spoke, though she could not hear his words.

***

"I did not expect you alone," Baeden said. "I assume my trick to split you up was a success."

"Unfortunately," Gaston replied with a growl. "Your mother traveled north with them, you know. If something happens to her, it will be your responsibility."

"My mother is stronger than you think," Baeden assured him. "She raised me, after all."

"I RAISED YOU!" Gaston screamed. "I handed you the first sword you ever touched, and I taught you how to wield it. I fitted your armor for ten years, I sharpened your blades, I made you into who you are today!"

"No," Baeden whispered. "You tried your hardest to turn me into you, but I would never use my strength to terrorize those weaker than me. I would never burn down villages for speaking against Lunambra, I would never behead people for stealing an ear of corn, I would never threaten a woman's life. You are a menace and a tyrant, and that is why I will stop you here and now, as my final duty to my Kingdom." Baeden reached up, grasping the hilt of his new sword and tearing it from its strap. He took his stance, raising the blade above his head.

Gaston was visibly enraged. His face had the focus of a proper warrior, but his fists were shaking and his posture was aggressive and powerful. "You attacked me from behind last time, like the coward that you are. You will not get the best of me again." Gaston reached to his side, drawing his broadsword in one swift motion and taking his own stance. "You have spoken against everything I stand for. You speak against law, against hierarchy, against decency. I do not care if the Queen has me executed for it. I have decided to kill you with my own hands."

"As have I," Baeden agreed. "Enough talk, let us end this as men."

Gaston began his advance, striding towards Baeden with his head held tall. As he approached, it became clear how much taller Gaston was than the Prince. His shadow loomed over Baeden, and it was obvious to Marina why he was so feared as he raised his sword in both hands and brought it crashing down towards Baeden. The Prince sidestepped the first strike, slashing around with his own longer blade. Gaston pivoted and knocked it aside with his left gauntlet, swinging his sword up slamming it against Baeden's cuirass. Baeden stumbled and caught himself just in time to duck a massive sweep, juking under the blade and ramming Gaston with his thick pauldrons. Gaston leaned forwards to absorb the blow, bringing his knee up to slam into Baeden's hip. Baeden yanked his leg back to lessen the impact, and leaned to his right before he threw his sword forwards in a powerful close-range thrust. Gaston somehow parried it with the end of his hilt, forcing the tip of the Spada to his left as he spun out of the grapple and regained proper footing. Baeden recovered quickly, slashing his weapon in a wide arc that forced Gaston to backstep away from it.

The separation did not last long, as Baeden was the one to restart their bout with a series of thrusts from his longer weapon. Gaston parried each of them with ease, then slammed Baeden's sword away, jumping forwards and throwing a thunderous front kick. Baeden was caught by surprise, taking the blow to his armored stomach and toppling backwards. He rolled backwards to his feet just as the tip of Gaston's broadsword was thrust into the ground where his neck had been a second ago. Baeden threw his own kick now, aimed at Gaston's sword hand. The ground acted as a stopper, preventing him from withdrawing from the kick, and Gaston shouted as the blade was wrenched from his grip. Baeden offered no mercy, swinging his sword up towards the unarmored joint under Gaston's right arm. Displaying unbelievable agility for a man of his size, Gaston jumped to his left, minimizing the impact of Baeden's strike. He hit the ground rolling, tumbling through the dirt and stopping next to one of the large wooden benches that lined the trunk of the Great Oak.

Getting to his feet quickly, Gaston grasped the bench and spun, hurling the piece of furniture directly at the advancing Prince. With no time to dodge properly, Baeden hit the dirt as Gaston charged him from behind the flying bench. Baeden kicked out, catching Gaston in the shin, and he rolled aside as the General crashed down beside him. If he was stunned from the fall, it didn't show as he folded up his legs and threw himself forwards, scrambling back to his broadsword that still stuck from the ground. Baeden was too slow standing, and Gaston had recovered his weapon as Baeden raised his arms for a downward strike.

Marina's heart froze in her chest as Gaston slashed the broadsword horizontally, under Baeden's raised arms. The edge slammed into the side of Baeden's pale leather cuirass, cutting into the hardened material. Somehow the leather managed to fully blunt the attack, but the weapon was still heavy, and Baeden knew that at least one rib had broken. Any normal man would have fallen immediately, but Baeden simply screamed the pain away as he grasped the blade of Gaston's broadsword with his gauntlet, tearing it from his armor. Gaston tried to pull away, but Baeden held strong and threw another mighty kick. It landed perfectly, impacting Gaston's gut between the cuirass and groin plate of his greaves. Despite his muscles and great endurance, the General fell to his knees as Baeden released the broadsword and tightened his grip on the Spada.

He raised it over his head and brought it down with no hesitation, right towards the center of Gaston's head. With the last of his focus, Gaston leaned to his left and the blade slammed against his steel gorget, sliding down the pauldron. Gaston roared his fury, getting one leg under him as he tried to force himself to his feet. Baeden struck at him again, trying to cut into the side of his neck with the base of his blade. Gaston reached up and grasped the pommel of the Spada with his left hand, under Baeden's own grip. They wrestled for control of the sword as Gaston tried to thrust his broadsword into Baeden's legs. His greaves were luckily full steel plate, and they protected him as he fought for his weapon. Gaston pulled hard, and Baeden felt his grip weaken, the crack in his side sending waves of pain across the whole right side of his body. Another mighty pull and the long blade was pulled from his grip. Gaston exhaled as he started to stand up, but Baeden lifted his left leg and stomped down on Gaston's thigh, forcing him back to his knees.

Gaston's vision was still hazy as he saw Baeden reach out, grabbing the blade of the Spada in both of his hands. Placing his foot on Gaston's chest, he leaned back, wrenching his sword away from the General. He spun the weapon, grasping it by the tip of its blade and gripping it tightly in his steel gauntlets.

Gaston knew what was coming, and he was too weak to prevent it. Baeden roared out in victory as he swung the inverted sword down into Gaston's shoulder, the heavy handguard piking through his gorget and embedding itself in the General's flesh. Blood flowed from the armor immediately, and increased as Baeden withdrew the weapon. Gaston fell back, staring at the sky as Baeden brought the handguard crashing down again, puncturing the chest of his cuirass and sinking deep into his body and deep into his heart.

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Chapter Eleven - Freedom

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Jenara began to cry just as the gates of First Hearth came into view. The rather unoriginally-named village was the first fief of Jarkan, only fifteen miles past their border. It used to belong to Lunambra, but after Jarkan's land was returned to them, they reclaimed and hastily renamed the small town.

There were many reasons she could have been crying. The sight of the beautiful mountainscape that spanned the sky before her, the thought of finding familiar company, or the fact that her plan was so close to long-awaited fruition. The cause was none of that, though. In reality, the one and only reason she was crying was because of the absolute typhoon that was contained inside her screaming, tormented bladder. As they rode on, she put everything together in her mind. She had consumed four liters of water early in the morning...thirty-two hours ago. Not including the water she had been forced to drink during the trip, it was now four hours past noon on the day after she had done so, and her body was having none of it.

She was truly terrified, she knew that the second she unstuck her womanhood from her leather saddle, she would instantly soak herself in front of an entire town. Her belly was so inflated that it lightly brushed the grip of the saddle, eight inches in front of her. Somehow the guards had not yet noticed this, too absorbed in their banter to pay her any attention unless she asked for it. As much as it mortified her to her very core, she was deeply considering dismounting right where she was and wetting herself in front of the guards. What is worse? Four guards of my own Kingdom? Or an entire village that is not under my command?"

She forced the thought out of her mind, squeezing her eyes shut and wiping the tears away with the back of her hand. If I piss myself, it's going take the complete failure of my body before I do so. I will NOT give in. Not yet. And so she gripped the horse's flanks with her legs, pulling her weight down on the saddle even harder. The animal whinnied a soft complaint, but kept its pace as the gate grew ever closer. Ten minutes later, they passed through the gate to the curious stares of Jarkan's townspeople.

"Drake, ride to the tavern and book a room for us and a room for the Queen," Jason ordered. "And keep an eye out for Prince Baeden. Ask the innkeeper if someone of his description checked in recently." The other guard nodded and kicked at his horse, speeding off around a corner.

The rest of them continued their slow trot as Jenara's eyes went wide with hope. My own room, with a private chamberpot and no men around. I may have to wait a while more to implement my plan, but it would be more than worth it. "We are going to the tavern now?" she asked, her voice far higher than she intended. "I thought we were to address the citizens to let them know why I am here."

"That was the plan," Jason said. "But we arrived here far later than I would have liked. We will take rooms as quietly as we can, and deal with the official introductions tomorrow morning."

"That is acceptable," Jenara agreed. She was so thankful that she would have kissed him on the spot, had she been a lady of any lesser stature. They rode for just minutes more until the tavern came into view, a tall stone and wood building with a shining steel sign in the likeness of a tankard of ale. Just the fictional depiction of liquid sent a wave cascading through Jenara's body, and she shivered head to toe. Jason dismounted, and as he always did, held out his hand to help the Queen off her mount. She had no choice, she took it and slid off the horse. The moment she hit the ground, her body shouted out loud, entirely against her will. Both hands flew to her privates and pushed hard against the front of the dress as her legs went half-limp from the pain of it all.

The three guards surrounded her in concern, grasping her shoulders and trying to straighten her up. "My Queen, what is the matter?" Nick asked politely.

"NOTHING, YOU FOOL!" Jenara screamed furiously at him. "I am in pain from riding that animal for so long, that is all. Get me in a room, now."

"As you wish," Nick said, looking slightly hurt. He started to push open the tavern door just as Drake came stumbling out from the other side.

"Fuckin' 'ell," Drake groaned. "Right cunt that one is. Said there's only one room available, and she refused to evict the guests of another, even at my mention of the Queen's name. 'Ain't my Queen,' she said."

At the sound of Drake's words, Jenara's hope was shattered as though a catapult had fired through the stained glass window of a Grand Cathedral. Her identity forgotten, she felt the first drop of pee leak out of her. She was beaten.

No, said the smallest voice in the deepest part of her mind. I am Queen Jenara, a member of the Royal Family of Valdus, raised by King Ethan and Queen Vanessa to lead my Kingdom with honor and dignity until either the day that I marry into another Kingdom or the day that I die. If I fail here, what legacy will I leave behind?

But what am I to do? said another voice, louder than the first. I'm a Queen, but I'm just a person. I'm going to be in the same room as my four male guards. I will die if I try to keep it in another night. If I don't die, I'll drown the four of them in my own piss."

Just say it. Be honest, whisper to Jason that I need to relieve myself. He'll understand, he'll give me privacy.

No. That is as bad as wetting myself. If my dignity is forcefully torn away from me, at least I could sleep at night knowing that I did all I could. I will never tell them.

But I told Marina. I did far more than that with Mary. Not to even mention Sabina...

Those were women, and they were innocent and nearly friends to me. These men...I hold no love for them.

It's going to happen anyway. Any second, it's all going to flow out of me, no matter where I am. So what am I going to do?

Wait. I could try to give the signal. But why would they be here? They expect me at the crier stand. But I have to try. I have to trust her.

As the guards argued with each other, Jenara raised her right hand, placing three fingers against her shoulder. For thirty seconds she waited, glancing around, wincing as another tiny leak forced its way out of her. And then she saw it, two cloaked figures sprinting towards her. The guards were absorbed by their conversation, discussing their options, and she prepared for the impact. She let herself be grabbed around her arms and she was torn off the tavern's porch. It took five seconds until Jason noticed it.

"HALT!" he roared, drawing his sword and bolting after the Queen and her captors. The others were close behind, their faces paintings of fearful anger.

Jenara let herself be dragged, twisting her legs together as far as they would go. The cloaked figures were not strong, but together they managed to pull Jenara into an alley between a stable house and a florist. As Jenara fought with all her strength to keep control just a few seconds longer, she saw one of them kick a square of wood out of the wall of the stable house. She was then pushed towards the hole, where she shuffled forwards and collapsed through it. The cloaked figures were next, gracefully sliding through the hole and pulling the slab of wood back into place.

"That was too close," Mary Estenna exhaled, pulling her hood down and shaking out her hair.

"You can say that again," Sabina agreed, untying the string of her cloak and dropping it beside her.

Jenara just lay still on the dusty wooden floor, shaking all over, with her hands shoved between her legs. "Need to...so desperate..." was all she could manage.

"Bloody hell, I forgot," Sabina gasped. "She's got about a barrel of water in there, I've been watching her for nearly two days straight and she hasn't had more than a second of relief."

"Oh, my Queen," Mary said softly, sitting cross-legged next to Jenara's head. The Queen leaned back on Mary's legs, resting her head on Mary's chest. "Get her skirt out of the way," Mary said to Sabina. The blonde woman obliged, grasping the soft but dirty fabric of Jenara's underskirt and sliding it down her legs. Mary grasped the sides of the dress and pulled it up, revealing the Queen's slender legs. Her womanhood came into view, stretched out and reddened, followed by her belly that could have been carrying twins. Mary finished pulling the dress over Jenara's shoulders and folded it over a wooden beam beside her. She then removed her own dress, throwing it to the other side of the room. "I'm sorry, Jenara," Mary whispered down at her. "I don't have a chamberpot down here, or any kind of bucket. It's alright though, just let it out. Hopefully my dress will stay dry over there..." She wrapped her arms around Jenara, one grasping the Queen's right breast and the other resting on her collarbone. Jenara reached up and held Mary's left shoulder, gripping it tightly.

The two women rested there naked, just waiting and holding each other until Jenara gave a final gasp of desperation before she spread her legs wide and let herself go limp. The torrent was immediate and astonishing, flowing onto the wooden floor and spreading out in all directions. It welled up under her, dampening her bottom and legs. It dripped through the cracks in the floor, and she moaned softly as Mary reached down and began rubbing her sore, distended belly. "Oh, that feels so good," Jenara breathed softly, spreading her legs further as the river kept flowing out of her. On and on it went as Mary watched her, and Jenara shivered as she felt the ex-stable girl kiss the side of her neck. "I missed you," Jenara said.

"And I you," Mary whispered. "Just relax, you're safe here." For two more minutes she emptied herself on the floor of the small room, and if not for the gaps between the planks, she felt like it would have covered her toes when she stood. She felt a jolt between her legs, and her body shook as she felt herself orgasm from the relief alone. She gasped out loud, earning a giggle from Mary. Finally, it began to slow down, and Mary smiled as the Queen looked up at her. "Feel better?" Mary asked playfully.

"Like a new person," Jenara exhaled. Mary continued massaging the Queen's abdomen as her flow ceased, working the dulled muscles and sore skin. "Sabina, come here," Jenara said suddenly. The woman approached the Queen and squatted down to avoid kneeling in Jenara's puddle.

"I'm ready, my Queen. It would be best not to waste time." Sabina began unbuttoning her dark shirt.

"It's as you say," Jenara agreed. "I know you do not truly want to do this, but I promise you that it will not be as bad as you think. King Carter of Valdus will do all the real work once you are wed to him. As for your lack of civility, the Kingdom will blame it on an emotional toll caused by a combination of your kidnapping here today and the loss of your son. You will live out your days in wealth and prosperity, and feel free to go adventuring again once you give birth to your own real son."

Sabina smiled at the Queen as she finished untying her leather pants, and she stepped out of them, standing naked in the dim candlelight. "I am not afraid anymore," she said. "Look at me, it's like I was made for this. I could be your identical twin and we would still not be as similar. Still, for good measure..." Jenara flinched as Sabina leaned forwards, slamming her face against the wooden beam that held Jenara's dress. Her face came back with a bleeding nose, red forehead, and a squinting left eye. "Well, that hurt more than I thought it would," she groaned, rubbing her face.

"You're insane, girl," Jenara stammered, trying hard not to laugh.

"You're more insane than I am, trying to pull this stunt. Do you really think we'll get away with it?"

"Everybody close to me is dead or gone," Jenara said. "Everyone except Mary, here. My husband passed years ago, my son left his Kingdom for love. I am sure that the General will never return, and simple servants and guards do not know me personally enough to be a risk."

"I hope you're right," Sabina said as she stepped into Jenara's underskirt. "Damn, this thing is all stretched out."

"That would be the fault of my bladder," Jenara sighed. "Speaking of that, do try not to wet yourself in any Royal meetings you may attend. They last a long time, but I have a record to uphold, after all."