The Princess ran through the woods with her satchel. The paths were difficult to make out in the moonlight, but the torches and dogs were not far behind her. So she ran, and when she stumbled or tripped, she got up and ran again. Blood streaked down her legs and arms from falling into the rocks in the dark. Her heart hammered in her chest. If they caught her, she could be hanged!
She slid down a ravine and into a small river. She ran up-stream, occasionally falling into holes of deep, cold, black water. Then she scrambled up the opposite bank of the river. Sometimes the sound of the dogs would fade into the night for a while, only to return later and be seemingly closer than before.
She ran back to the stream and made several more “false” exits from the river before finally choosing a low, wide eddy to make her real escape from the water. She had purposely scarred the bank on each of her false exits, just to make it obvious someone had recently clamored up at those places. But the spot she chose to actually leave the river was over rocks that were worn smooth by the river water and sand that flowed over them for thousands of years.
Charlotte hoped the dogs would get lost following her fake exits, but she knew she couldn’t count on it. Even so, by daylight it seemed as though her plan had worked, at least temporarily. By mid-morning she no longer heard dogs at all.
The Princess walked warily along a path that seemed vaguely familiar. She remembered being on it before, months before with David. She had been on horseback with him, and he had shown her where he and his brother had built a fort.
Then she saw it. The stand of trees in the distance. She recognized the ruins behind them.
…
As soon as she entered the ruins of David’s boyhood castle, she knew someone had been there. The leaves were trampled down from horses hooves and in the moonlight she saw there was a bedroll on the ground. It had been mussed, as if someone had been sleeping in it, and then horses had trampled it when they left.
“Princess!” A hushed voice said behind her. She spun around and saw David in the shadow of the stand of trees. He had been quietly tracking her as she crept into his secret place. “What are you doing here?”
She rushed to his side and he held her tightly. “The Queen found out…” she began.
“I know.” The Hunter interrupted. “They have been through here several times already with their dogs. We can’t stay here.”
He held her hand and guided her through the nighttime forest. Occasionally, he seemed to hear something in the distance and pulled her off the trail and into the woods. One time it was an elk foraging saplings, and lightly tapping his antlers against a tree. Another time it turned out to be an old man, drunk on whiskey, walking along the trail in the night. But most of his alerts went unresolved, at least as far as Charlotte could tell.
Sometimes he would pull her off the trail and tell her to sit still. Then he would disappear into the woods, following a sound or a scent. The sounds of the forest would descend upon her, and she heard every twig snap, every branch bough creak, and every breeze through the leaves in the forest.
They slept during the day and walked at night. David picked the least traveled paths, and carefully guided their way for miles and miles before choosing a remote hiding place to spend the daytime hours.
Their journey went for several days, then over a week. Their general path was to the North and East as far as Charlotte could tell, but the winding paths made it difficult to tell where they were going. And when she asked David, all he would ever say is, “Far away.”
…
Occasionally they heard the barking and baying of hound dogs. It was hard to know whether those dogs were chasing Charlotte and David’s scent, or perhaps it was some hunter out looking for rabbits or birds. Either way, David treated them all the same. Avoiding the dogs and identifying, whenever possible, who was behind them.
On the 9th evening, they were just setting out on their nightly journey when the yelping of dogs drifted over the hills in the wind. David looked concerned, this group of dogs wasn’t like the others they had encountered during their journey, he told her. There were too many dogs in the group. These weren’t normal hunters.
He pulled Charlotte along the path, and encouraged her to go faster. His damaged leg was still bothering him, but his quickness of pace was almost too much for her to keep up with, even with his injury.
The terrain became rocky, and David told her to try to walk on the rock, not on the path whenever she had a choice. “It makes it harder for the dogs to track us.”
The pair scrambled over the smooth rocks and followed the vein of granite along a riverbank.
But as fast as they were moving over the uneven terrain, the dogs were getting closer – barking and baying. Eventually, David pulled Charlotte off the path and they scrambled up a crevice in the rock to a hiding place on top of the outcropping. “Shhh,” he said and he crept to the edge of a rock that stood over the path they had just followed.
“There are two parties,” David whispered in Charlotte’s ear. “One is coming from the West, and the other is coming from the North.”
Charlotte looked down and saw the first tracking party on horseback. They moved like ghosts against the darkness. Their shadows were only briefly visible through the limbs of the bare trees. But she could see there were dozens of them. Who were they?
A man’s voice shouted in surprise in the night below her. As if the strange man in the dark was suddenly deathly afraid. Then one of the dogs yelped in pain and then it howled briefly before going cruelly silent. It was the unmistakable sound of a dog being killed, and its final agonizing yelp echoed off the stone face of the canyon walls.
More voices raised alarm, and then the sound of another dog yelping and crying in pain before its pitiful cries were suddenly cut short.
More men shouted and dogs barked, and then men’s screams of pain joined with the dogs’ yelps. The sound of swords crashed against each other with loud metallic clangs. More screams in the trees below. Men were fighting to the death in the dark forest below them. Could they even see each other? How could they tell friend from foe? She imagined they were thrashing blindly in the dark. Their yelling and screams curdled Charlotte’s blood, “Barbarians!” She seethed.
The battle was short, but who had won? Which of their foes would find them up there in the rocks?
David spun around, and nocked an arrow onto his bow. Charlotte could hear the scraping sound of the men’s boots as they ascended through the narrow crevice she and David had just scrambled through themselves. She saw the motion of a man coming up through the crevice just barely before The Hunter’s arrow released and split his skull against the dark granite of the crevice he was climbing.
The other men behind him hid against the wall and behind the other rocks. Within seconds their return volley of arrows impacted against the rocks around them, sending Charlotte and David diving behind a rock.
David shot back immediately, and struck one of them. He screamed that he’d been hit and begged for help. The others fell back. Then arrows came again, bouncing off the rock around them. Charlotte nocked her bow and prepared to fire back.
“HOLD!” Shouted a familiar voice with ultimate authority.
David nocked another arrow and held it at the ready.
The mysterious company hid in the rocks just outside the crevice.
Then the familiar voice came again, “Princess Charlotte, we are not here to hurt you.”
Charlotte peeked around the corner. She couldn’t believe it. It was Charles “The Badger”!
“Are you going to come out easy like, or am I going to have to drag you out by your feet?” He asked in a teasing, but brutishly condescending voice.
…
“What is going on, where is my Father?” Charlotte demanded.
“Do you want to live?” The Badger growled back. For some reason he had chosen to tie the Princess’s horse to his own, and now four hours later he was regretting that decision. “Hey, you there!” He yelled to one of his scouts. “Ride ahead and tell Mark’s guys who we found. I’m sure the Prince will be interested.”
The men Charles was with were NOT her father’s knights. These men did not wear the regulated uniforms and armor of her father’s army. And she realized with a quivering hopelessness that this brutal man was now fighting among the Barbarians! This was incalculable Treason!
Charlotte’s expression froze. She realized she was becoming a bargaining chip in her Father’s war. “I want to know what you did to my Father!”
“You will need to shut up!” The Badger replied under his breath. “It’s best if you keep as low a profile as you can. Not everyone around here thinks having you with us is a good idea.”
“Yeah? I agree, so let me go!” She replied.
“Not going to happen, Princess,” The Badger replied. “But if you don’t shut you up, then I may not be able to protect you. Because their solution to the problem of having you around is to slit your throat!”
Two days later, they arrived at an outpost of sorts. It was a fortification in the woods, cleared on all sides by at least 200 yards of open field.
Other than a dozen or so men standing watch on the walls, the position seemed to be almost uninhabited. The men on the wall watched in shock as the Princess rode in behind Charles’ horse.
A Captain appeared in front of The Badger. “The Lost Prince is an hour away, sir.” Then he looked at Charlotte and said, “I suppose you will be the Prince’s guest this evening, Princess Charlotte.” His emotionless expression indicated that he was not impressed with her or her interruption of what he considered to be more important matters.
“The Lost Prince, coming here?!” Her mind raced. Everything she had ever known was under threat from this one man. Her father’s Kingdom, her people were nearly defeated. She had lost Stefan and now David was chained to a post, and now this wicked man was coming to meet her?
She considered she might be able to kill him. If she could get her hands on a bow, and get away from Charles, and somehow get past his Guard, maybe she might be able to shoot him. But, of course, she couldn’t do any of that. They had taken her bow and she had been chained to a horse, or a tree, or one of The Badger’s Guards for days.
The previously quiet little fort was suddenly very busy preparing for the Prince’s arrival. Charlotte watched the women cleaning their children, and the men suiting up with their armor. Patrols went out to search the woods for assassins or spies. A large fire was prepared and a boar had been slaughtered for a roast.
Charlotte remembered similar celebrations when her father had returned victorious from war. She shook her head again. She knew her home had no celebrations like this now. At least, not anymore.
Somewhere along the wall a trumpet blared, signaling the arrival of the Prince. Everyone in the fort took their positions and waited in silent anticipation.
A few minutes later, as the children shuffled their feet and their mothers tried to shush them, Charlotte heard the sound of horses approaching the gate. Knights poured into the courtyard and circled around in formation, pushing the crowd back with their horses to give room for the Prince’s entourage.
But this wasn’t like Charlotte’s memory of her father’s entourage. There were no entertainers or chefs or fancy chariots and carriages. These people were battleworn on horseback. Their armor had scratches and dents. The men were drenched with sweat, and the horses needed water.
She stood as The Lost Prince rode up in front of her, her mouth hung open in surprise. She instantly recognized his soft, blue eyes and flowing blonde hair. Her breath caught in her throat. How could he be here? He had been a prisoner in her father’s Army. My God! She thought, could Stefan actually be The Lost Prince?
Charles unlocked her bindings, setting her free. But she hardly noticed.
“You are alive!” she exclaimed, and wrapped her arms around Stefan’s neck as soon as he dismounted his horse. “How did this happen?” She asked, barely able to believe he was alive in front of her.
“I’ll tell you everything.” He said, “But let’s clean up and eat first!”
…
Princess Charlotte was able to find a local woman who showed her where the women bathed. It was a hot spring just into the woods from the fortress. She stepped into the water and scrubbed herself. Allowing her hair to flow in the water and feeling the water drain over her scalp in a soothing sheet of warmth. The ladies allowed her to borrow soap, and she washed the sweat and dust from the trail, and the smell of horses, and dried blood and scabs from her legs and feet.
By the time she emerged from the Spring, her skin was wrinkled on her hands, and she felt refreshed. The women let her borrow a nightgown, and although it was just a common sleeping gown, and not nearly as fancy as the ones she wore in her father’s castle, at that moment it felt more luxurious than any she had ever worn in her life.
…
Once she was back inside the Fortress, Stefan led her to his makeshift bedroom in one of the storage rooms. He told Charlotte about his escape from her Father’s Army camp. He told her that The Badger was actually his Uncle and how he had helped him escape from the King’s army, and about her Step-mother’s plot to have her assassinated after she found out about her most recent spy, Sir Bougie’s death.
Stefan explained how they had met up with various Tribes, and united them to fight. And that her Father’s Army was on the verge of collapse. “I never would have left,” he concluded. “I would have stayed and carved gnomes and fairies at the river for the rest of my life if I could have. That was a nice life, but it is gone now.”
The storage room was small, but Stefan had created a makeshift bed from the straw and blankets piled along the walls and shelves.
Stefan pulled Charlotte close to him, and put his arms around her waist. “There is a new life now.” He said.
Charlotte turned to face him and in a moment they were kissing – warm and softly. His mouth explored the corners of her mouth and sucked her lips. She let him lower her down to the soft straw bed. And when she laid down, he was on top of her. She loved feeling his body on top of her. His weight, holding her down. She didn’t need to make choices now.
She opened her lips and his tongue probed inside, lightly licking her tongue and sucking on her mouth with his lips. She felt his hands roam over her back and down to her bottom. His fingers tracing lightly over her course nightgown. She remembered two years ago when they had kissed in the carpenter’s hut, only this time nobody could interrupt them. Stefan’s army of thousands stood guard outside.
Charlotte felt the pressure rise in Stefan’s pants, and his penis pushed against her belly as they kissed. His hips moved rhythmically against hers, in mock thrusts and throbbing his hardness against her body.
She tried to accommodate him, but his passion became too needy. He pulled her nightgown up and over her head, exposing her naked body in the pale moonlight filtering in through the night time windows.
She stretched backward, letting Stefan look at her body and admiring his hard cock throbbing inside his pants above her. He whispered something about missing her, and she had missed him too. She never thought this night would be possible.
She pulled the drawstring on his pants and untied it greedily. His pants fell down, revealing his strong, manly thighs and hard prick.
Charlotte spread her legs apart instinctively and her vagina opened for his cock as he slid himself easily inside her. She had been told to expect pain the first time she made love to a man, but she didn’t notice it. She wrapped her legs around his hips and pulled him in tighter, then spread her legs wide apart and felt him thrust deeply inside her vagina.
She arched her back to give him a better angle, and his hips pushed back up inside her again, reaching further and deeper into her body. His cock was buried so deep that he filled her completely. She felt him thrust against her, holding her down by her shoulders, he pumped her body, forcing her to take his cock deeply inside and she was thrusting back against him just to take him in even more.
The Prince and Princess made love earnestly and then slowly, and then grabbing onto each other with passion. Before loosely holding hands and kissing again.
At some point, Stefan bent her over and entered her from behind. He thrust into her with his hands holding her hips and using his knees to push her legs apart. She gave him everything he wanted, pushing her bottom up to meet his pelvis, and to take in more of his hardness deeper inside of herself.
She could feel his passion rising. And when he rolled her over on her back again, she held her legs back with both her hands while he pounded into her. His hands holding her shoulders and fucking her body like she belonged to him. And she knew she did.
They made love like this for hours, and by the end she felt his warm semen oozing out of her even as he pumped ever more deep into her. The night was pitch black by the time their bodies separated in exhaustion, the moon having set an hour before.
Charlotte knew Stefan had given her a baby that night. She held her legs together to make it real, and imagined what the baby would be like. Maybe he would be a famous Warrior, or a Statesman traveling to foreign lands. Maybe he would be a famous Hunter. Or perhaps a Prince like his father. Or maybe just a Carpenter…
And with those thoughts, she smiled and fell asleep in Stefan’s arms.
…
The next morning, Charlotte woke to find that Stefan was already gone. The sun was only just rising, but he was already preparing for the day ahead. Charlotte went down to the courtyard and found him in the Armory preparing weapons for his troops.
She examined the armor and weapons. Some were long swords and large chainmail like she had always seen Knights wear. But some of the weapons were lighter and smaller.
She found the Long Bows and pulled one off its hanger. “Some of these weapons appear too small for a man, how young do your boys fight?” She asked.
“Those are for the women”, Stefan replied. “They learn to fight from the time they are girls, just like the boys.”
Charlotte picked up a bow that would be appropriate for her size, she thought about the hours of practice The Hunter had spent with her, teaching her to shoot. She could shoot a pear from 30 paces or more and never miss. A longbow would be different, of course. And she had never shot from a horse, and her targets so far never shot back. But she was sure she could adapt to it. She looked at Stefan defiantly. “Then, teach me to fight too.”