The Princess and The Pirate

Elsewhere in the darkness of Rocqueburne, someone was trampling the royal rosebushes. The person’s heavy boots crushed the young plants to the roots, smothering them. Over a wall, across the grass, jumping from shadow to shadow, the only sign an intruder was present was the soft rustle of leaves as he disappeared into the canopy of a tree.

A thick layer of clouds aided the stranger by shielding him from the prying light of the moon. Hidden in darkness, a hook came out from the green foliage and anchored to a stone balcony rail. The stranger swung from the tree branch to the stone face of the fortress. Hovering mere feet above a passing guard patrol, the enigmatic shape silently slinked up the rope until he was standing firmly on the Princess’s balcony floor.

The rope was pulled upward, flicked over the railing, and coiled on the ground. Before the moon revealed itself again, the figure was through the French doors and inside the room.

The heavy leather boots, pierced with thorns and covered in dirt, silently moved across the lush carpet. Wasting no time, the intruder descended upon the sleeping princess, gag first.

Jacqueline awoke to her breathing being interrupted and the feel of coarse cloth forced between her teeth. Literally choking at the surprise, she fussed, believing she was dreaming some man was trying to smother the life out of her. She scratched upwards, grabbing at the air as she was pulled from her laying position to sitting upright.

The smell of salt and leather invaded her nose as a gloved hand wrapped around her mouth, only allowing a bit of her nose to do the breathing for her whole body. Her legs were held down by the man's knee and he one-handedly bound her ankles with rough, seafaring rope. She kicked in protest but only resembled a distressed mermaid.

“Settle down!” The voice snapped at her hoarsely, the bottom half of his face covered with a black cloth. He had brown eyes and tanned skin that wasn’t shielded from the sun often. The edge of his hand brushed against the top of her head while he tried to grab her wrists. Jacqueline, not very astute at fighting, grabbed the closest thing and hit her assailant with it. A luxurious pillow smacked the rogue in the face.

Her grey blue eyes narrowed disapprovingly at her own choice of weaponry. The stranger looked down at the Princess, an unreadable emotion in his eyes. He simply tilted her forward and then threw her body back into her hard, cherry wood headboard.

The blow smacked her head and pushed her tiara forward. She bit against her gag and tried to shake off the stunned feeling, but balance didn't return quickly. With little protest the man cinched her wrists together with the rough hemp rope.

Still seeing stars, Jacqueline was hoisted up and out of her warm bed. As she was lifted, her gleaming tiara was flung off and bounced on the floor. Thrown over a shoulder, her legs pressed against his chest, she was carried out of her room. The Princess thrashed, but couldn’t get anywhere. The two found themselves out on the balcony but the captor hesitated before going any further.

The castle suddenly rocked as a violent explosion lit up the sky. Fire and bellowing black smoke polluted the air. A second smaller explosion let off a less violent aftershock and every guard in the castle rushed in the direction of the blast.

…On the other side of the castle.

…The farthest point from Jacqueline’s quarters.

Seeming that was the signal, the man uncurled the rope and hook. Hooking the edge to the rail, he grabbed the rope and rappelled over the side with Jacqueline in tow.

It had not fully occurred to the sleeping Jacqueline that she was being kidnapped until she and her captor cleared the edge of her balcony. Only then did she start her muffled screaming. As she was hunched over her captor’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes, she was wetting her gag with spit and trying to bite through it, screaming all the while.

Valiant though her effort was, the gag rendered her inaudible. She had tried, for whatever it was worth. The man’s feet were on the cobblestone ground and the galloping of horses could be heard. In the far distance, she could see fire curling up into the night - the stables were ablaze. He braced himself, clenching her around her waist like a barrel on his shoulder. With his free hand he snatched the reigns of a passing mare.

Jacqueline recognized the brown and speckled white coat. The saddle had her familiar monogram in it. What were stable staff for, if they didn’t stable the horses?!

Jacqueline’s abductor roughly mounted Trystan’s awaiting saddle. The poor spooked animal ran like the wind, eager to escape the danger and certain death emanating from the entire palace.

Captor and captive disappeared into the night.