The Princess and The Pirate

“Two sugars, please,” Jacqueline asked while lazily lounging in a luxurious chair. The drawing room was bathed in golden morning sunshine. Good God, she loved this old castle.

The servant smiled and poured the tea.

“I’ll take that,” came a familiar voice, shooing away the help to take over the preparation of the drink. Caught off guard, Jacqueline sat up. Kyle?

Before she could gather her senses, a rough kiss came to her temple and a cup of tea in fine oriental china was placed beside her. “Good morning, wife. Sleep well?” Flabbergasted, she impolitely stared at him. Indeed, it was the Captain. This time, he was in presentable, fashionable clothes and looked like a proper noble gentleman, himself holding a cup of tea in his own hand. He casually sat down across from her, looking like dignified company.

Jacqueline blinked, feeling very, very strange. Leaning over, she hungrily grabbed for her drink, not knowing what else to do. Taking a long sip, she kept her accusing eyes on Kyle and he returned her strange look.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked, slowly raising his eyebrow in concern at her odd behavior.

Before she could respond, the Princess spat out the drink. It tasted awful! The teacup fell from her hands and clattered to the carpet. What kind of tea tasted so…metallic? Wiping the residue from her lips with the back of her hand, she looked at the mess on her skin. It was bright red. Blood.

Shaking at the sight, Jacqueline looked down at herself, the mess having streaked the front of her dress. She tried formulating a response, but nothing came out.

“My queen, is something the matter?” he asked again, sipping the same red liquid idly from his cup, unconcerned with the contents.

Jacqueline then jolted awake, sitting up sharply. Her heart was slamming against her ribs, making her lightheaded at all the action. A beam of sunlight was aggravating her eyes and she drowsily used the back of her hand to shade herself.

The storm must have passed, the Princess figured. Remembering the thunder, lightning, and the downpour, the evening’s events rushed to the foreground of her mind. A deep scarlet blush came across her pale cheeks.

She slept with the Captain? Well, there hadn’t been much sleeping, but isn’t that what the girls called it?

At this realization, Jacqueline softly groaned. Her poor life choices educed a pounding headache.

Pinching the bridge of her nose, uttering a soft curse, she looked down. Kyle’s jacket was laid across her otherwise naked body. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw her green dress had been used a pillow during the night. It was soaked and reeked of mildew.

“God fucking dammit! OW!” A voice cut through the air, just beyond the cracked doors of the church.

Jacqueline pushed herself to her feet and slipped on the long duster jacket, hugging it around herself. Kyle’s smell lingered in the lining and the Princess found herself smelling the edge of the collar, inhaling the salt, sweat, and cedar.

The moist carpet squished under her bare feet but she peered out into the ruined courtyard.

Outside, the Captain was pulling wood apart, semi-successfully. He held handfuls of tree branches in one hand and was pressing his palm against his hip, cursing God. At his feet were three large fish, glistening in the morning sun.

“Trying to make a fire?” she called out, starting down the steps.

Kyle snapped over his shoulder while looking at his bleeding hand. “‘Trying’ being the key word,” he muttered. He was shirtless, only wearing a pair of damp pants and no boots.

“Why not use your sword?” Jacqueline pondered aloud as she wandered near him, but she kept a distance. She looked at the shallow cut in his hand and glanced occasionally at his face, but the moment he went to look at her, she avoided his eyes, instead intently staring at the ground.

Women and their games, was all Kyle could think. He thought about his situation and how this little adventure had developed. Certainly, impulsively copulating in an abandoned building with a royal concubine had never crossed his mind before. In fact, Kyle would have laughed wholeheartedly had anyone even suggested that. Honestly, he still might laugh about it later.

Much later, when the Princess wasn’t around.

But, he wanted her to look at him. Eyes spoke volumes. She wouldn’t be the first noble girl to be soured in the morning but he wanted the Princess to look at him. Jacqueline’s eyes would tell him if this trip was about to get that much more awkward, with Rocqueburne still two days away.

Really, how long would she find the dirt interesting?

The building creaked behind them, wind cutting through its holes, and the Princess looked in that direction instead, making sure to keep the jacket tightly shut as the breeze lifted the edges. Kyle inhaled slightly. So, that’s how it was going to be?

“Because, a sword is for killing,” the Captain wearily replied, analyzing her. “Manual labor would just dull the thing.” His own jacket was teasing him, hiding her curves, burying them behind a mess of ruined leather and psychological defense mechanisms.

He wasn’t leaving her alone, now turning his whole body to face her. She’d have to look at him eventually! A stubborn, awkward silence fell between the pair.

After agonizing seconds — which felt like minutes — Jacqueline slid her eyes to their corners, looking at Kyle, who was staring at her profile.

Instantly, she blushed. He knew her the most intimate way possible! Holding her breath, the Princess bit the side of her lip and felt the heat radiating from her face. Her eyes darted away but then quickly returned back to him. Sure enough, Kyle was still standing there, staring at her.

A very soft smile bent the Captain’s neutral expression. If Jacqueline hadn’t slapped him now, more than likely, she wasn’t going to. At his signal, Jacqueline gave him sheepish smile, her royal cheeks still a bright, bashful red.

The regretful don’t tend to smile, so it was an encouraging way to start the day.

“Behind the church, there’s a river,” Kyle motioned with his head, returning to his task. “It’s cold, but you should be able to manage. I’ll work on this fire thing and perhaps not kill us with uncooked fish.”

Water in its unsalted form sounded heavenly. Jacqueline started off in his suggested direction. “I shouldn’t be too long, bitter cold is an enemy of mine.”

As she turned to walk away, Kyle playfully whipped her on the ass with a sapling switch he had in his fist. “Princess, everything is your damned enemy.”

Jumping at the hit, Jacqueline gave the pirate a fierce, disapproving pout. It didn’t hurt at all, the jacket absorbing most of the sapling’s kinetic energy. Chuckling unapologetically, Kyle then went back to cursing at the wood.

Kyle wasn’t kidding about the distance. The stream wasn’t far at all. Fighting through the brush, pushing twigs and other leafy plants from her path, Jacqueline bravely trekked through the wilderness. The edge of the river was muddy and full of long, tall cattails. Jagged mountains cut into the sky and plunged back down towards the sea. There wasn’t a soul in sight.

Opening the jacket, Jacqueline hung it on a branch and was completely nude to the elements for the first time in her life. Crossing her arms against her chest, she tiptoed over to the bank. Icy water lapped across the Princess’s fair ankles and damnation was it cold!

Her white skin broke out in goose bumps and a strong shiver shot up her spine. Tiny minnows and tadpoles scattered as Jacqueline waded into the river. Clutching her own skin for warmth, she instantly regretted climbing in, but what was done was done. Taking in a breath, the Princess sank under the current, letting the cold blue water wash over the top of her head. Dirt and grime were being lifted away. It was a beautiful baptism of frigid, uplifting cleanliness.

The sharp, seizing cold kept her thoughts scattered. It felt nice not to think.

As the burning need for air filled her lungs, Jacqueline broke the river’s surface, drenched. She ran her frozen hands over her face, pushing her wet red hair out of her eyes. Inhaling the clean air, she could feel tiny beads of ice slowly sliding down her skin. Admiring the crystal clear serenity of nature, feeling much like some pagan druid, the Princess began wringing out her long hair.

An unexplained splash could have been anything in such a rural setting — an excited fish or a stray wave smacking against a rock. Pausing in her appreciation, Jacqueline felt the fine hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Before she could investigate, a dirty hand covered the Princess’s mouth. Letting out a muffled sound of surprise, she tried grabbing the stranger’s forearm, trying to push away from his body.

“Hello, Princess.”

She felt the man’s unshaven face press against her cold ear, his hot breath warming the side of her cool face. Father Cordinae slid his other wrist across her exposed breasts. Heaven help him, a wet, spry twenty-one year old was pushing him right to the very edges of his self-control. “You’re a hard creature to catch.”

His voice was familiar. He was from the brothel.

Widening her stance, Jacqueline hoped to anchor her feet under the river stones. However, all her exuberance was extinguished as a sharp tip scraped across her flesh. The edge of a dagger nicked and marked the Princess, splitting her skin like warm butter.

Jacqueline flinched, feeling pinches of pain. She whined mutely behind the father’s hand.

“These are just superficial, stop complaining,” he whispered, looking to her frightened profile. Her trembling body begged his attention — so pale and still. Focusing on Jacqueline’s shallow breaths and the tepid rising and falling of her bare breasts, he coarsely whispered “Move towards land.”

She smelled like algae and the sharp cold of winter. Father Cordinae indulged himself, smelling her again. Such a specimen of God’s creation surely couldn’t go to waste. At least the girl’s bloodline would live on. She was much prettier than his first experiment.

Jacqueline eyed the muddy bank obscured by weeds. If she ended up on solid ground, she had no chance. At least being in the river was an obstacle for both of them.

Grabbing his wrist, the Princess bit her teeth into his dirty hand, followed by savagely clawing at whatever meat she could find of his arm. He only hissed, retaliating by dragging the blade across the top part of his target’s chest. The fine instrument split Jacqueline’s skin ruthlessly, revealing the moist muscle underneath.

“Stupid girl!” Father Cordinae shouted, pulling his hand away from Jacqueline’s face. Opening and closing his bitten fist, he put the bloody dagger away. There was no haste in his movements, merely being a voyeur to the naked woman.

As an assassin, he excelled in observation, so that’s what he did. He observed.

He watched quietly as the Princess pressed her hands against the gory slit in her skin. A generous amount of blood poured between her fingers. The poor girl needed two hands to cover the incision.

“K-Kyle…” Jacqueline called out, nearly faint from the sight of her own blood. She managed to tread a small bit of water in her escape, but she didn’t go far. The Princess was too preoccupied by the angry gash in her own privileged flesh.

Well, that was enough nonsense. Father Cordinae pursued her through the current with a strong stride. “I don’t need you awake,” he growled, lunging after the Princess and easily knocking her into the shallow water. “Hell, I only need you barely alive.”

Landing with a violent splash, she turned on her back, trying to claw her attacker. She desperately tried clawing at anything, hoping to pry herself out of the river. Cordinae was not foolish enough to give his prey any advantage. He quickly straddled the half-submerged girl.

Then, the father grabbed the front of the Princess’s head and kept her pretty face pinned under the river’s surface.

Blood and hair swirled around Jacqueline’s head, the top of the water just out of reach. Bubbles escaped her horrified expression, trying to breathe where there was no air. Her attacker denied her, forcing the back of Jacqueline’s head more into the smooth river rock. His distorted, blurred face smiled.

Sharp, cold water forced its way into her lungs. Panic grew with every fruitless gasp. As the Princess’s grip grew weaker, the father put more weight onto her hips, “Unfortunately, I’m going to cut out your eyes out first, to square a debt with your mother. She will leave us in peace after that.”

Novice would return to him, in one form or another.

From the woods, the flora moved with a brutish crushing sound. “Princess, today isn’t a day at the spa,” Kyle called out from the woods, pushing a branch out of the way. “You’re just going to get dir—” and the Captain paused, a peculiar sight greeting him.

A man was kneeling in the river, staring up at him with crazy eyes as a pale arm fell into the water with a small, nearly inaudible splash.

Kyle threw his weapon first, with no intention of asking questions later. “GET OFF HER!” Flinging it from his hand, the sword beat its owner to the target. With a slam, the business end of the blade embedded itself into the assassin’s chest.

Father Cordinae fell back away from his prize, feeling the center of his ribs compact inward. The current pulled him down stream with little resistance.

Flying into the water, kicking up large splashes, the Captain chased after Jacqueline’s flowing red hair. It twisted and waved at him, smoothly running over the rocks, being ensnared by the undertow.

Throwing himself downward, grabbing fistfuls of hair and plants, he forcefully dragged the Princess’s body from the icy river. Pulling her to shore, the Captain gave the listless, soggy woman a fierce shake.

Nothing. Just a vacant, half-opened stare. Water slowly drained from her parted lips. He then noticed the grisly wound across her bleeding chest.

“Jacqueline!” Kyle shouted again. “Jackie!” He was a pirate, for God’s sake! Drowning wasn’t new to him. Laying the Princess out on a bed of bent reeds, he kneeled by her side and pushed down on her chest.

In all the commotion, Kyle didn’t hear the barking or the beating of hooves. He was so engrossed in trying to rescue her that he didn’t even notice the pheasant flying out of the bush and the bloodhounds leaping after it.

Following the noise was the neighing of horses, accompanied by a regal voice. “You there! Boy! What’s going on here?!”