The Princess and The Pirate

“Do you think there will ever be safety? Do you know who you are, my grace? Do you know what a legendary reputation you have now, especially coming back from the dead?” Otis, one of the Rocqueburne advisers, had nearly thrown papers across his massive desk. She didn’t get it. “You’ve proven yourself invincible and men don’t like such challenges.”

The Princess huffed, not feeling very indestructible. Who did this old codger think he was, trying to lock her behind bars and glass?

Otis started collecting his things, the meeting having annoyed him. “And to top it all off, you give the future of this kingdom to the very bones this castle is built upon. Princess you are inviting trouble.”

“Get out,” was all she replied to the man who was already on his way out.

Jacqueline awoke with a start, an unpleasantly hot liquid burned her eyes and the edges of her nose, searing her awake. Coughing, she smelled and tasted harsh whisky. An ice cube began melting slowly in the curve of her collarbone. The Princess went to sit up but she couldn’t get far. Her knees were tied together and her arms were lashed behind her back.

The pop of a fire made her look up and she only saw a tall, black silhouette leering over her, as if Satan himself had crawled up from the flames.

“Sleep well?” said a familiar voice. Jacqueline heard his boots clicking on the ground until he stood on the zebra skin rug.

“E-Eustace?” Jacqueline stammered out, pulling at the ropes digging defiantly into her skin and entangling the massive amount of fabric in her wedding dress. “What have you done!” She fell back against the familiar rug, seeing three hooded clergy members standing still in the shadows of the room, heads bowed silently as if in prayer.

“It’s taken some time and quite a lot to get you back,” the Regent said while pouring himself another glass, his last serving splashed across Jacqueline’s face. “Fortunately, I have friends in high places.” He tipped the rim of his glass to the cloaked observers.

“The Emperor will be in Rocqueburne in two days! Have you lost your mind? You can’t escape this!” Jacqueline shouted, trying to free herself on the carpet. She squirmed back and forth fruitlessly. “The Emper—”

The Regent knelt down beside her and quickly put his fingers on her lips. “Princess, if you think the Emperor scares me, you don’t know me at all.” He then snaked his fingers into Jacqueline’s mouth, trying to hold open her lower jaw. “And that hurts. I thought we knew each other better.”

She squeaked trying to bite down, fighting, while tasting the dirt under this nails. Jacqueline’s tongue pulsed and pushed against the Regent’s knuckles. The heels of her feet dug into the floor, looking for traction but she only surrendered to panic.

“No, no biting. That’s not very ladylike,” Eustace whispered, keeping her mouth pried open and pouring the second full glass of alcohol inside. Jacqueline gurgled as the burning feeling shot up her face and back down to her lungs. She choked on the generous amount of drink, coughing and sputtering the liquid in defiance.

He snapped her mouth shut then covered it with his hand, only giving the Princess one option.

“Swallow.”

Jacqueline tried to spit, but the copper-colored spirit only gently oozed from between his fingers. She couldn’t breathe.

“SWALLOW IT, YOU TEASE,” the Regent suddenly screamed at her, digging his fingers into Jacqueline’s red cheeks. Finally, her chest heaved and he greedily watched the bulge move down her throat. Eustace bent down and smelled his prize. She stank of his favorite spirit. It was intoxicating.

“What’s this?” The Regent examined Jacqueline’s left hand and the pearl ring that sat there. “How quaint. Where did he get this, a thrift shop?” Easily slipping off the jewelry, he examined it more closely in the firelight and then flung it into the burning logs. “I will give you a jewel that’ll anchor you to the bottom of the ocean.”

The Princess tried to sit up, pulling at the ropes around her wrists. Drunken heartbreak swirled in her chest as she watched the silver start to liquefy in the fire. The coral bits burned, blackening like charcoal. The frenzy of pain brought tears to Jacqueline’s eyes, helplessly watching the jewelry die such an unfair death.

Eustace pushed her back down. He found women much more agreeable on their backs.

“I can’t tell you how happy it makes me that you’re still wearing white,” Eustace whispered with a sneer, relishing her anguish. He slid his free hand up her hip and along the curve of the Princess’s ribs before stopping over the mound of her pert breast. The Regent’s palm rested heavily on her chest while his fingers bent around it, tightly kneading the hidden flesh. Jacqueline squeaked, protesting, the stench of whisky still radiating from her mouth. The room was spinning. Both dizzy and sick in one swallow, she groaned at her compounded misery.

Jacqueline writhed there, trying to move away but there was nowhere to go. The Princess tilted her face into her golden hair, just wishing to hide.

“My wedding…” She trailed off, drunkenly mewing, wanting to spit the taste of aged alcohol out of her mouth. The Princess saw a monster with six eyes and two smiles grinning down, groping her like a kneading cat.

Eustace rhythmically massaged her breast, playing with it. His breathing picked up, watching the flesh bend and bounce with his fingers, “Oh, there will still be a wedding.” His other hand gently ran over the destroyed skirt, slowly dragging the material upwards.

He lifted it like theater curtains. The man’s fingertips pushed into the meat of Jacqueline’s exposed knee and thigh. “You’re not wearing stockings? Naughty girl. Very indecent of you… What do they teach at that Rocqueburne court?”

An abrupt throat clearing caused the Regent to snap his head up, his fantasy interrupted. The friar was standing much closer to them now, the fire in the fireplace lighting up the lower half of his face. His mouth was set in a hard, disapproving scowl. The disgust of the rich and powerful was quite evident.

“What do you want?” Eustace hissed, sitting up, leaving the girl alone.

“We need to discuss payment.” The assassin’s tone didn’t leave room for the Regent to reschedule.

Begrudgingly, the Eustace tore himself away, standing on his own two feet. He put on a diplomatic smile, straightened his coat, and motioned for the assassin to take the lead. “Princess, don’t go anywhere,” Eustace said from the corner of his smile, walking behind the friar.

Jacqueline moaned softly. She felt nauseous, the hot sensation of drunkeness overwhelming her. The fever spread across her face, down her neck, and across her chest, leaving rosy blotches on her milky skin. She moaned again, trying to pull herself out of the fog. It only grew denser by the second.

Outside the room, the Regent walked down the hall with his followers.

“So, father, can you officiate a wedding?” He was making casual conversation with the assassins. The old man chuckled lightly, caring about nothing else, reveling in his victory.

This caught the younger man off guard. With a surprised look, he nodded. “Yes, I suppose I can.”

“What if I proposed to double your payment if you’d do me that great honor?” Eustace said, absolutely jovial. They came to a door which the Regent pushed open in a grandiose fashion. At one time it was a great room but the fire had left it in shambles. Ledgers were scattered across the room, some charred beyond repair. The furniture, lockboxes, and shelves were largely destroyed.

“Your funds seem depleted,” the friar said curtly, now doubting if they would be paid at all. “Your deeds alone have put you in a poor state.”

“Don’t cast stones, judge not… Right?” the Regent said, clearly mocking the holy man. “Aren’t you lot sworn to a life of poverty and servitude?” He made his way through the rubble to the back of the room, seemingly undeterred by the mess.

One nun slowly twisted her mouth to the side, obviously fed up.

The friar stopped following, kicking some rubble away from his boots. “Hearty advice, sir. I think you’re referencing Luke? ‘Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive,’” and he paused to emphasis the point, “‘and you will be forgiven.’” It was said with a subtle warning. The friar looked the old man up and down, knowing the small whisper in his soul said the Regent was only bringing evil into the world. The man certainly needed some forgiveness in his life.

Eustace pulled a chest from the mess that rattled with gold. “Ten thousand pieces.”

“We agreed on seventy-five hundred!” the second nun exclaimed, her composure shaken.

“Indeed, think of it as a gift of good will.” He smiled, placing it on a table before grabbing another. This chest rattled even louder. “Forget what I said about merely doubling your fee! I’ll more than triple it! What would you say to an additional fifteen thousand to have your honored presence at my wedding?”

Twenty-five thousand gold pieces was an unimaginable sum. They didn’t even have to kill anyone!

The Regent flashed a charming smile, confidently pushing the full chests at the assassins who caught the heavy boxes like beers slid on a bar.

“The honor would be ours, sir. May we bless your…” The friar struggled to find the kindest words. “…Perfect union.”