The Princess and The Pirate

Princess, your parents are dead… No. That was too blunt.

Princess, your parents were murdered in cold blood. It’s society’s fault… What? Was that even an excuse?

Princess, your parents got what was coming to them… Although that was the most true, it also seemed the most harsh.

Kyle practiced it over and over again in his head but he couldn’t bring the words to his mouth. It just seemed like so much at one time: a tormented kingdom, abandonment issues, assassins…

Sighing, he looked down at the woman cradled in his arms. Her freckled face was obscured by a cotton cloth. Here, she was safe. On the road, Jacqueline was a nobody, but once rediscovered, this mess wouldn’t end. But first, they had to get inside and once inside, she could rally up her people or do whatever it was that royals in peril do. The eastern gate was their best option for entering the city but also the least glamorous. No knights or imperials rode their horses through the eastern gate.

The sorry-looking pair slowly rode up to the east threshold of Rocqueburne. Their desolate lot had been seen too often as of late: beggars needing miracles. The outcast and diseased would be perfect camouflage.

It was the same song and dance. Times of great tragedy were then followed by times of great extortion. Charlatans poised as faith healers would spread their false hope for people’s last coins. Royal deaths proved exceptionally profitable. In this city was mighty fountain which was now promoted to be supernaturally favored by Saint Jacqueline.

Seemingly overnight, the waters held healing properties to the helpless, and thus, the helpless (and their money) flocked like moths to flames.

Kyle had intentionally lamed their horse, causing the sorry thing to limp along the road. The captain didn’t look like himself, donning a floppy farmer’s hat and bandaging half his face. Whatever part of his skin was exposed was covered in red, crusty blotches. In his arms was Jacqueline, curled, also blighted with the same skin affliction. Her face was masked by a funeral shroud, white, to match her dirty nightgown. However, the blood and filth were completely real.

They rode through lepers, the blind, the mangled, and the maimed, poor and desperate people hoping to end their trepidation. The crowd hopped from one holy site to the next in a never-ending pilgrimage for cures.

“Oy, we’re not accepting new travelers,” said a guard to the new arrivals flatly, having turned away so many already.

“If not me, then my wife,” Kyle called out, motioning down to the Princess in his arms. “She’s not moved since Staffrock and we’ve traveled as far as St. Augustine! This plague is a fiend’s rot!” He reached out to touch the soldier with a red, blotchy hand. Paradiso dirt was quite versatile. “Sir, you must understand!”

“Don’t you touch me, wretch!” shouted the tired guard who reached for his sword, ready to deal out his own type of medicine. Such a show drew the attention of the other members of the gate’s watch.

The horse reared slightly, already in pain and irritated by the clattering of the noisy, shiny man. Kyle needed to control it, so he committed to fiercely pulling on the leather straps. Jacqueline worked hard to lay still as the horse sharply turned to left. Some stray locks of her red hair slipped free of the dirty shroud.

“Calm your beast, pariah!”

“Here, take what you care about and let us through.” Kyle threw a bag of gold coins at the feet of the soldier. So maybe he didn’t give Erica ALL the Regent’s treasure. He forced the horse forward with an abrupt kick, the Captain refusing to take no for an answer.

The clattering of coins was a familiar sound. Many heads perked up at the commotion.

“I have money!” screamed a particularly desperate soul, half his face melted away by some horrid disease.

“ME TOO!” shouted another from the crowd. “YOU CAN HAVE IT ALL!” What was money compared to poor health? The social castaways began to rile, many finding new zeal over the idea that bribery would get them further in their quest. Soon, more legitimately diseased and decrepit people were swarming the gate like locusts. Mortified by lepers and other untouchables, the gatemen shouted, terrified of catching any affliction.

Chaos broke loose and Kyle promptly exploited it. Kicking the horse, he made it trot past the city walls. The great animal snorted and neighed, protesting while limping against the cobblestone. The captain adjusted the Princess in his arms. He was swiftly cut off by the horse screaming in pain and rearing up. It flailed in place, wildly swinging its sharp hooves in the air. A thick arrow stuck out of the horse’s flank and a second one pierced it again.

“FUCK!” They both fell backward, Kyle unable to manage both the wild animal and the weight of Jacqueline’s body in his arms. He hit the stone first. The Princess followed immediately afterward.

Smacking her elbow into the stone, Jacqueline whined and ripped the shroud from her face. Kyle was wheezing, his chest feeling broken from the landing. Looking upward, he watched as the city guards plunged another arrow into the horse’s head, killing it. The bow then turned to them.

Sparking a riot of the sick and rotten was frowned upon, apparently.

Pushing the pain away from his current existence, the pirate scrambled to his feet. “Let’s go!” He grabbed Jacqueline’s wrist. “Get up!”

“But they’re Rocqueburne guards!” She commanded defiantly, her voice firm but laced with hope. Loyalty had to exist somewhere. “We can—” Kyle swung her to the right as an arrow shattered on the stones that were previously beneath her feet.

“You two, identify yourselves!”

“Did you see that woman’s hair?”

“Just run! FUCKING CHRIST!” Another arrow ripped off his farmer’s hat, pinning it to a post. He didn’t know who to trust so he trusted no one.

“Hold that fire!” came a shout. That young girl...Who was she?

Begrudgingly, Jacqueline ran with Kyle. Her red hair was a tangled lengthy mess behind them as they sprinted into the dark city.

“Catch them, lest they infect the city with their dirtiness! Call the captain!” screamed a guard, overwhelmed by a sickly woman scratching at his face with her ruined fingers.

This plan was one of his less sophisticated ones, but at least they were in the city. Kyle found that as a plus. Sure, the clatter of guards wasn’t pleasant, but they’d figure it out. If they got to a church, some noble’s house, somewhere not filled with short-tempered, sword-wielding men, they’d be in decent shape.

“Go left!” Jacqueline shouted, pointing to separation of buildings, and left they went, which proved to be a bad idea. The breach at the gate had rallied all soldiers in the eastern half of Rocqueburne!

“I’m not listening to you!” Kyle snapped, pushing her backwards, scurrying back onto the street. “We need to get to a church!” This was unfortunate as they were in the market district.

Weaving through the city, Jacqueline took note of the many black banners and wilting funeral bouquets that still lined the roof tops of Rocqueburne’s businesses. Who died? Were they for her still? As they popped out of their most recent alley choice, the two found themselves at a large intersection. The castle’s shadow stretched upwards in the distance, the crescent moon rising just beyond it.

Which way? The street broke apart like rivers. Jacqueline tugged on his arm. “C’mon, the Church of Our Grace is down this road!” He wanted a church? She’d give him the biggest church in the city.

An arrow rocketed from the darkness, nailing the Captain right in the calf. It was a small bolt, cleanly entering and cleanly exiting but he lurched forward with a surprised gasp, clutching onto the Princess. For a moment, he was considering how many holes he was sporting because of this endeavor. Gritting his teeth, the pain so loud in his leg, Kyle locked a scream in his throat. Perhaps it was pride, but he didn’t want to give any Rocqueburne scum the satisfaction of his agony.

Versetti was good at his job. He was good at killing, detaining, and evoking order. Word had reached him about a riot and a disease being let loose upon his city. The last thing Rocqueburne needed was an outbreak of plague. Riding a great warhorse, he pointed his crossbow at the ragged pair. He was flanked by the Emperor’s golden guards who looked quite unkempt and slightly less than ready for an immediate call-to-arms. Why did alcohol hurt so good? One burped.

“You, stay still so I can kill you properly,” he said, aiming again and loading a bolt into his crossbow. Shooting peasants like stray dogs would be a good ending to his uneventful evening.

“N-no! Wait!” Jacqueline shouted while trying to bring Kyle to his feet. “Stop this!”

“Shut up!” Kyle barked, near fainting from the pain. He clawed the front of Jacqueline’s nightgown, trying to find the strength to stand. “Don’t speak!”

The voice was the only thing that caused the captain of the guard to pause. His trigger finger idled, curiosity overrode his need to murder. There was absolutely no way what he heard was true. Versetti looked down the crosshairs of his weapon, thinking. “Light a lantern,” he commanded one of the accompanying soldiers in a cold, skeptical tone.

It wasn’t true. Ghosts weren’t real.

Drunk, the man sloppily did as he was told, sparking the oil and holding it up in the darkness. He dismounted his mare, swaying in his step, but managed to keep the fire lit. Queen Lillian’s hospitality would be something to recount for ages!

As the stranger approached the pair, Kyle leapt off the Princess like a beast, knocking the lamp from the inebriated guard. The lantern smashed onto the street, igniting the cobble in a pool of oil.

In a sudden burst of energy, the pirate continued the onslaught, connecting his fist to the golden man’s face. “RUN!” Kyle screamed back at the Princess, throwing his weight onto the soldier, relentlessly punching him.

Jacqueline paused, only sheepishly stepping back as fire weaved itself on the street.

“RUN, GODDAMMIT!” he screamed again, hitting the drunk man in the face once more. His full anger was unleashed on the guard as they brawled on the street. The pirate’s knuckles were busy displacing the soldier’s cheekbones and freeing the teeth in his mouth.

Kyle looked up to Versetti, his form outlined with the orange flame, appearing as Death himself on his pale horse. The nightmare snorted, smoke curling away slowly. The beast was a creature from legend, an animal so wild that even Hell spat it out.

The Princess backed up quickly, the fire spreading. By then it was far too late, the light being all he needed. Versetti commanded his mighty horse through the fire, fearlessly. Stone-faced, he cut off Jacqueline’s escape. From his high seat he looked down at the dirty redhead girl. Her smoky blue eyes, the freckles… Versetti’s pupils sharply dilated. The Princess was alive. She was alive and standing before him in the center of the city. Her city.

Whatever emotion was on his face, Jacqueline instantly recognized it as unfriendly. Icy terror filled her veins, feeling far, far away from any fire.

Kyle made an ugly sound at being cracked hard on the head by the second guard. Ripped off the first man, the second began kicking him.

Swinging down from his horse, Versetti wordlessly grabbed the Princess. His fingers dug into her shoulders, possessively. Although he was quiet, his mind was a noisy place. The king and queen were dead—he had helped kill them. Lillian was queen but that was now usurped by Jacqueline’s presence. Foremost, the thought that made his pupils constrict to the size of pinpricks was the idea that someone else might know Jacqueline was alive. Who else would question Lillian’s reign?

“Let me go!” she screamed shrilly, trying to pull out of his tight grasp. Jacqueline’s eyes were wide as panic swelled inside her. They were innocent. They reminded him of all the evils he had committed. “Please!”

“Stop talking.” Versetti couldn’t handle it. Her voice interrupted his thoughts. As was his solution to pretty much everything, he punched the girl straight across the face with his armored gauntlet. Jacqueline swiftly crumpled to the ground, obediently saying nothing.

Staring at the Princess on the ground, he inhaled shallowly. Looking up to the guards, he then looked to the castle. Lillian had to know. The captain of the guard grabbed Jacqueline’s body. Taking his cape, he flung it over, hiding her familiar face. He couldn’t look at it and if anyone recognized her… She needed to stay dead. She needed to stay a saint. Lillian needed to stay queen.

“Bring him.” He motioned to the bloody mess that was Kyle. Mounting his own horse, carrying the Princess, Versetti kicked off towards the castle. He felt blood trickling from Jacqueline’s mouth, hotly dripping on his arm. The sensation cut through the fog overwhelming his brain, each drop ringing like funeral bells in his ears.

Lillian needed to stay queen. She was his queen and she’d know what to do about this imposter.