The Prince and the Queen

The Prince and the Queen
Recounted by The Winds of Neptune

Dedicated to D.Q.

Part I

Long, long ago, in Fairy Land,
There ruled a mighty king;
His realm was vast and wonder-filled,
And wanted not a thing.

Of sixty years that monarch was,
Yet hearty he remained;
While virile youth had left his limbs,
In wisdom he had gained.

His castle was a splendid sight,
The court-life bright and gay,
Where doughty knights and ladies fair
Would joust and feast and play.

Now this good king, he had two loves,
A source of endless joy:
One was his most charming queen;
The other their dear boy.

Abundant virtues graced this pair;
True paragons they were.
Their loving king they loved in kind,
With hearts both good and pure.

O, nothing in that great wide world,
On land, nor sea, nor air,
Could ever with that king's sweet wife
In loveliness compare.

The lady’s years were thirty-four,
And fresh she was – as spring;
Her dainty fairy beauty
The poets all would sing.

Her sable hair was long and rich;
Her skin was purest white;
Her eyes were green as emeralds,
And gleamed with tender light.

In body she was Venus' twin,
With curves to stir delight.
A bosom high and firm she had,
Longs legs, and midriff slight.

To match her charms of face and form,
Demure and chaste was she:
The finest thing in robe and crown
A soul could hope to see.

No wonder that the king was rapt,
And wooed her till he won;
Then wedded her and bedded her,
And got with her a son.

The boy from her his looks derived,
Like hers his hair and eyes;
While from his sire he took the traits
Of strength and goodly size.

With parent's love and tutor's guide,
He grew up straight and true;
Astronomy and Math and Rhyme
And Rhetoric he knew.

And as a knight he had no peer,
Though aged a mere eighteen;
He bested all with sword and lance;
Most courtly was his mien.

With such a wife, and such a son,
Our king felt rightly blessed;
But Fate it seems is often fain
To put us to the test.

Thus fortune changed the day that lord
Went hunting in the mead,
And chanced to see a golden deer
Upon the grasses feed.

With lust for blood, he took his bow
And let an arrow fly;
The deer was pierced upon its neck,
And gave a fearful cry.

But yet with life, it turned and fled;
Sheer terror filled its eyes;
The king spurred on his sturdy horse,
Intent to claim his prize.

Anon he reached a grotto mouth,
Through which the deer escaped;
On foot he followed rashly in,
Then stopped, and stood, and gaped.

The deer had gone, and in its place
An angry maiden stood;
He noted well her golden hair,
And grimly understood.

She glared at him with frightful rage,
While blood traced down her neck.
"You brute, you fool, you fiend!" she cried,
"For this, your peace I'll wreck!"

"The Lady of the Mead am I,
To wound me sinful is;
I know your story, thoughtless king,
And thus I tell you this:

Within the year, for punishment,
Your precious wife and son,
In whom you take such joy and pride,
Shall sin and be undone.

"The one will be untrue to you,
The other honor shed;
Nothing that you do or say
Can stop what lies ahead."

The king turned pale at such harsh words:
"Your mercy, miss, I crave!"
But all at once the maid was gone,
And empty was the cave.

From that time forth he knew no peace.
More grey he grew, and thin.
Defiantly, he told himself:
"That maiden must not win!"

Each restless night he watched his queen
As she in slumber lay;
So pure she looked - and pure she was:
An angel doomed to stray.

He mused in turn upon his son;
That loyal, handsome lad:
So like his mother, sweet and fair,
A foe to all things bad.

But this did not relieve the king.
Strange visions plagued his sleep;
The castle had some roguish knights,
And wenches, brash and cheap.

Such types as those, the king well knew,
At mischief liked to play;
He wished at once his wife and son
Were safely far away.

A plan he hatched - the which he hoped
Would serve his purpose best:
The queen must to a convent go;
Their boy take up a quest.

For then his wife would be secure;
His son in action tied.
And thus the sins may never be,
For which the king had sighed.

With this in mind he called them in,
That couple kind and dear;
And when he'd drawn them close to him,
He stated blunt and clear:

"Now, ask me not, my cherished pair,
The reason or the need,
But go at once and grab your things,
And from this castle speed.

Be armed with sword and shield, my son,
To guard your mother well;
Head eastward to the nunnery,
And place her there to dwell.

"If ogre, fiend, or troll or crook,
Dare try their luck on you,
Be brave, my son, and don't delay:
Just run those villains through!

"Then with your dearest mother safe,
You must much farther go:
An errand yet you'll have, my son,
The rainbow's end to know.

"Do not return you - either one -
Until the year is out;
Now once again, I firmly say,
Ask not what I'm about!"

Part II

Let's not on their sad parting dwell,
Nor preparations made;
Enough to say that dame and boy
Their noble lord obeyed.

And now we find them on a morn,
Both riding (with no other):
The prince upon a mighty steed;
On palfrey white his mother.

Above them stretched a clear blue sky;
Green fields before them lay.
The scent of summer filled the air,
Yet neither's heart was gay.

The strangeness of the king's command
Had caused them much suspense.
What could be wrong - they wondered both,
That he should send them hence?

And so they rode, these exiled kin,
Till later on that day,
They chanced upon a haughty brute
Who chose to block their way.

In tones polite, the son called out,
"Why, fellow, let us pass."
"That's easy done," the other said,
"Just give me your sweet lass!"

The fair queen flinched, the brute laughed loud,
The prince in rage went red;
Without a word, he drew his sword
And doffed the rascal's head.

A minor scene this proved to be,
And soon was put behind,
But next they chanced to meet a Knight,
(Though not of honest kind).

His armor was the hue of mud;
His manner most uncouth;
"I want your lady, die or fight!"
He bellowed to our youth.

The son, the prince, felt rage afresh,
Offended for his mother:
"You filthy cur! You've got your wish;
"I'll slay you like no other!"

The horses charged, the lances crashed,
The muddy knight went flying;
He landed on his wicked head:
The upshot was him dying.

Once more the son and mother rode,
Until they reached a wood,
Where taller than the mighty oak
A rugged giant stood.

When of the queen he got a sight,
He licked his lips and said:
"Ye gods, I'd give up both my arms
To get you into bed!"

Much fear and shame the good queen felt
To be this way addressed,
While of her son it's true to say
That fury filled his breast.

The noble lad then spurred his steed
And charged the leering foe:
"You heap of dung," he said en route,
"Now take your fill of woe!"

The giant grinned; for this, he thought,
Would be an easy meeting.
How wrong he was; how sorely wrong:
Good god, he took a beating!

Our dashing prince, for mother's name,
Excelled the god of war;
He left that swine in pieces ten
Upon the forest floor.

This mighty feat the queen beheld
Then, said she, full of awe:
"My hero son! O wondrous man,
"The best I ever saw!

But trouble new was soon to come,
For battle's din had woke
Those hostile little, archer men
They call the Elvish folk.

From tiny bows they let loose darts
Upon the palfrey's hide.
The beast ran off with queen aboard:
"O help me, son!" she cried.

The palfrey's course was far and wild,
But well the prince gave chase;
His mother soon he had again,
Though now they'd lost their place.

"My son, I'm scared," the queen confessed.
"These woods are like a maze;
Without a path to serve as guide,
We could be lost for days."

"O, mother sweet, do not despair:
We'll pass this trying test.
The convent we will find again,
But first we must have rest."

Part III

A little distance on they walked,
Until they spied a glade;
A streamlet twinkled in its midst,
As though of silver made.

It seemed a little paradise;
A place to cast off care.
The mother and her son agreed
To spend the evening there.

When through its bounds the couple stepped,
A golden deer appeared:
It drank a moment from the rill
Then swiftly disappeared.

They marveled at such rare a sight,
Till faced with tasks in hand,
They made a fire and ate some bread,
And for the morrow planned.

Along came night, a full moon rose;
Full bright the glade was then.
The queen and prince were sure at last
They'd found a charming den.

The dark, the light, the moon, the stars:
All breed a pensive mind.
Then queen and son, as closest friends,
To talk of Life inclined.

They spoke of dreams, of hopes and fears
(About the king as well);
They spoke of honor, faith and love,
Of Heaven and of Hell.

No sleep they needed yet. But thirst
Had come to her and him.
So to the stream the prince took cup
And filled it to the brim.

Sat side by side, they shared their drink
(That streamlet's water sweet),
And soon there came into their limbs
The timeless lover's heat.

Their heads felt light, their hearts grew glad,
Their blood raced through their veins;
Their bodies' needs began to try
Their mind's restraining reins.

Then suddenly, like lightning flash,
The queen and her young man,
With mutual look, without a word,
Their course in sin began.

The prince gazed in his mother's eyes,
Those pools of love and life.
His pressed his lips against her own,
As though she were his wife.

How great it felt to each of them!
They seemed to be new born;
And for a time they deeply kissed.
Though all the world might scorn

Then briefly did they break it off,
(Some hesitance to feign)
As flushed and panting said the queen:
"My son, we are insane!

"Your father I have always served,
To him I must be true:
It would him wrong - and me disgrace
To be so free with with you!

"Though handsome tall and fine you are,
Though full of charm and skill,
You're yet my son, my flesh and blood,
Our union would go ill!

"And what a mother would I be,
What decency possess,
If to my own sweet darling son
I yielded for caress?"

Then said her son, her dashing prince,
With passion burning through:
"These points you make, O mother dear,
Alas, they're all too true.

"'Tis wrong of me, your own born son,
To touch your flesh divine;
That blessing is my father's lot,
And never should be mine.

How shameful would it be of me,
This double sin to do:
To cuckold him (my honest sire),
And sate my lust on you!"

Yet naught but sounds these speeches were;
They faded in the night.
Their rebel bodies broke all laws,
Demanding full delight.

The prince beheld his mother fair,
Arising straight and tall;
Her body clad in tight green robe
Did hold the youth in thrall.

And now she saw him closing in,
She made a final plea:
"But think, my son, upon the act
That you would do with me!

"Unspeakable, its often called;
The gravest sin of lust;
What magic's here, what did we drink?
That think on it we must?"

The next she knew, she lay within
Her ardent son's embrace;
He squeezed her tight, to her delight,
And kissed her lovely face.

Upon the leafy ground they fell,
With limbs entwined they rolled;
Their hands sought out each others flesh,
To stroke, and knead and hold.

Then eager grew that virile boy,
His mother nude to see:
In one quick move, he grabbed her robe,
And ripped the fabric free.

O wondrous sight! O form sublime!
How felt the prince right then?
Such bodily perfection,
Could shatter mortal men.

It's lucky he was young and strong,
Possessed of healthy heart;
It served him well as now he viewed
His mother's every part.

Her naked skin of flawless white,
Thin waist and downy 'mound';
Long supple legs and fulsome breasts,
And buttocks firm and round.

All these with awe the prince surveyed,
(His member craving ‘in’)
While up at him his mother gazed,
And said with love, "Begin."

The prince at once his own clothes shed,
A god he looked when bare,
With narrow hips and muscled chest,
And shoulders broad and square.

The queen looked on; her loins grew moist;
She weakened at the knees;
The time spent waiting for her son,
Seemed whole eternities.

Then what a frenzied joining was;
A man with woman fused!
Mother, Son, in lusts hot throes,
In sweaty sin amused.

The prince's hand encased a breast,
His lips sucked of the teat,
His fingers slipped between smooth thighs,
And probed the sacred heat.

And while he licked and kissed and felt
His writhing mother gasped
And with her dainty fairy hand
His throbbing manhood clasped

"'Tis beautiful", she said and sighed
"Much bigger than the king's
With this, my son, you'll make me feel
A thousand wondrous things."

She kissed the tip, then stroked the rest
(Twas such a massive span!)
And when she licked the whole long shaft
Her son grew wild as Pan!

The things that had occurred thus far
Were merely the beginning
For when the flesh was in the fold
They really would be sinning!

"My dear, sweet boy," the queen began
"Art sure this should be done?
"Remember yet who we two are:
A mother and her son"

The prince looked in her eyes again
He knew that she willing;
"I'm sure as sure can be," he said
"To do this will be thrilling."

His ‘ram’ loomed hard before her ‘gate’,
Full thick and hot with lust;
Incredible the tension was,
Before his first good thrust.

A happy gasp the queen let out,
Responding to his size;
He filled her up and pleased her so
That stars were in her eyes.

And there she lay: her son on top,
Her ivory thighs spread wide;
Her calves around his narrow waist,
And clamped about his hide.

Her ebon hair, so neat at court,
Full wild and free was now;
Lust's rosy flush was on her cheeks;
The sweat was on her brow.

She clutched her son and kissed him lots,
For well he with her mated;
And oft he touched a special spot
That left the Fey elated.

A good long while they had such sport,
Revealed by moon and fire;
And then they tried position two,
In which the queen was higher.

She bounced upon his ample staff,
Sweet time and time again;
She craved to have the whole of him,
Her son, that best of men.

She arched her back, pushed out her breasts,
Threw back her pretty head;
The queen, she loudly moaned and wailed,
As with her boy she bred!

Yet she nor him were close to done,
They couldn't get enough;
So now they chose another way,
More animal and rough.

Upon her knees the mother got,
As if she were a mare,
And glancing at her own behind,
She bid her son be there.

Kneeling in that blessed spot,
The youth took hold her hips;
Then eagerly he plunged his piece
‘Twixt her maternal lips.

The queen's response was raptured wail,
Her loudest sound to date;
For bigger, deeper, harder pumped
Her darling son and mate.

O, what a picture those two made,
'Tis worth to dwell a mite;
The scene: a sylvan paradise
One warm and moonlit night.

The queen: all fours, agleam with sweat
Her fingers in her mound;
Her son's strong hands upon her breasts,
While deep he did her pound.

O sin! While sire was far away
(Perhaps upon his throne),
The son humped well the mother,
And made the beauty moan.

The queen's delight soon over-brimmed,
She hardly kept her senses;
The wildest things she ‘gan to say,
All gone her shy defenses.

She urged her son to ‘plow’ her more,
To ravish her at will;
No longer did she mince her words,
But boldly let them spill:

"O god my son, this thing we do,
At last I'll call by name:
It's incest, sinful incest,
Yet naught I feel of shame!"

"Again, I say, this thing we do,
I'll call it what is:
‘'Tis incest, lovely incest,
Yes incest - and it's bliss!"

The queen's hot chant inspired that boy,
Whose tongue till then was tied;
At last he said a thing or two
While mounting her with pride.

“Ah, mother dear, you comely Fey,
I love you more than life;
If incest wasn't deemed a sin,
I take you for my wife."

"O darling prince!" The queen exclaimed,
“My dear devoted son!
You bring a teardrop to my eye
Which down my cheek doth run.

"Full fortunate a mother, I,
To have a child like you;
You are my all - O sweet, sweet boy,
O lover strong and true.

"'Tis heaven in your arms to be,
And bliss to ride your rod;
O - take me, take me, take me hard!
My son, my man, my god!”

The honored prince found greater gust
Than e'er he had before;
And madly tupped his mother then
Upon that forest floor.

Though words he lacked, his actions spoke;
Such love and urge he showed,
Twas clear he loved his mother best
As in her field he sowed.

The queen exulted mind and flesh
(On knees and elbows still);
Most primal she had now become
And hotly craved her fill.

Yea, shoulders low and buttocks high,
A mare in heat seemed she;
Her son a lusty stallion was
That mounted her with glee.

And then they reached the highest height
That pleasure can attain;
Their moans and screams and cries and sighs
Wrought thunderous refrain.

‘Twas but a few more thrusts until
There came the great conclusion,
When son his manly juice let loose
In warm and white profusion.

And as it filled his mother full,
Her own sweet juices rained,
And drenched her son's enormous shaft
That deep in her remained.

Full long they held them this same way,
In sweet climactic strain;
Then bodies spent and all content,
They down in sleep were lain.

And so they lay, while night passed by,
And dawn rose in the East;
Great smiles were on their faces for
They'd been to lust's great feast.

No dreams they had; what need was there?
They'd drunk of life's own spring;
A poet's flight could not conceive
That real and wondrous thing.

So on in perfect bliss they lay,
Till sunlight would discover,
That beauteous queen of fairy stock,
Beside her son - and lover.

Part IV

But Fate again, it likes a trick,
For morning brought them shame;
The workings of the glade and stream
In day were not the same.

Mother, son: they stammered, blushed,
And quickly did they dress;
Heads held low they left their spot
In sorrow and distress.

Twas pain to speak, they merely walked;
At last their path they found,
Then wondered they a lasting while
Which way they should be bound.

The convent had no import now,
Nor chasing rainbow's end;
They thought upon their castle home
And thither did they wend.

A lot of thinking did they both,
As slowly they progressed;
Each felt that to the goodly king
Their act should be confessed.

But long their homeward journey was,
More thinking did they do;
And in good time they 'gan to take
A somewhat different view.

To her own heart, the fair queen said
"Most surely did I stray;
I cheated on my lord the king,
And with my own son lay.

"But, my, ‘twas sweet, ‘twas ecstasy;
I never felt so glad;
And though all others disagree,
I cannot call it bad.

"Twas deep and special union,
Of mother and of son;
And if we have conviction,
No harm of it can come.

"Indeed, if there should come the chance -
But no! I must behave;
The cheating on my king:
That's the part most grave.

"Yet is there not a sort of pride,
The king could in it take?
That 'tis our son I cheated with,
A man he helped to make?

"Some credit on the king reflects,
And then there's also this:
He himself adores the boy
And knows he special is."

And on this line the queen did think,
The whole day that they rode,
Till gone was all her past regret
And peace within her glowed.

Her son, meanwhile, kept pondering:
How could he show such lust?