A Midsummer's Saga Pt. 05

She strolled about the outer courtyard as the sky slowly darkened. The air smelled of junipers, and the cicadas were singing at a full volume. They used to do that a lot in the capital too, she thought. On summer nights like this, when you could take long rides along the river, in a good company.

A cart parked by the stables caught her attention. It was covered with thick cloth. She walked by to have a closer look. It was loaded with bundles of tightly packed colourful material tied to sticks. Fireworks! Even in this gods-forsaken Paula-infested shithole they're gonna have a full fireworks show tomorrow, get hammered, and dance the night away!

She climbed the wall and walked north, where she ascended a turret that overlooked the inner courtyard. From here, if she looked outside, she could see the town of the plain, its lights coming by degrees to life. Better yet, if she leaned out of the crenellations a bit, she could not see the castle.

Mista found her there.

"When should I serve your supper, my lady?"

Gabrielle didn't turn back. "In an hour or whatever. I want to stay here for a while." She leaned with her chin on her hands, but she sensed that Mista was still hovering behind her. "Anything else?"

"Are we going to the town for the festival tomorrow?"

Oh, that. "I'm not allowed. But you can go if you want, I'll manage."

To her credit, Mista tried to make it sound like no big deal. With a quick thanks, she disappeared downstairs.

Gabrielle looked to the sky. It was a bit too early for the first stars yet. Swallows were circling over her, swerving wildly in their flight and issuing high-pitched calls among themselves.

Seriously, how fucked up is it that she can allow Mista to go from or stay at the castle, but she herself is stuck here? She has to stay, completely alone, even on a night such as tomorrow's. She wondered if any of her friends at the capital is remembering her or will spare her a thought, wonder how she's doing. She'd never know; they would be forbidden from contacting her. And so, while everyone else in the castle, even the lowest servants, is free to come and go as they please, she will have to sit and stew with her thoughts of loneliness!

Well, not everyone else. There was the boy in the dungeon, the only person who seemed to share her opinions on the place. It felt good to improve his life here a bit, she even felt actually royal doing that, but this didn't change the fact that he was very soon going to die, in pain and even more abandoned than she was, and leave her all alone here again.

She touched her forehead to the battlements and rolled her head on the warm stone. This place is going to drive me crazy. Fucking gods, do something.

*

Everyone indeed who only could started leaving the castle for the city the next morning. Servants and workers, who had to walk the three miles on foot, went early to beat the midday sun. All were dressed in their best garbs, a crowd gleaming blue and red and yellow, some carrying flutes or guitars, everyone talking over everyone else. By afternoon, the castle was almost completely empty, save for a small group of soldiers necessary to watch the walls, the monks of the chapel, and maybe twenty other people whom their jobs or a particular lack of festive spirit kept confined within the walls. Late in the afternoon, Paula herself rode off with Clement, leaving the castle under Pelagius's command. The venerable father, his three understudies, and Princess Gabrielle watched the gate shut after her ladyship's escort.

"Well!" said Pelagius, rubbing his hands together, "Dinner and a little midsummer ceremony at the chapel in two hours, then. See you there!"

The afternoon dragged on, the air hot and still upon the earth and Gabrielle lying on her bed, simmering in heat and frustration, determined not to think about her situation anymore. As the hour turned late the heat let off a little. At the appointed time, she got up and dragged herself towards the chapel.

The hallways of the Great Hall were deserted; there was nobody but an elderly servant downstairs, and her steps echoed as she descended the great stone stairway. There was nobody in the inner courtyard; there was always supposed to be a guard at the inner gate, but he must have wandered off somewhere. Muffled tones of a guitar were reaching her from one of the half-timbered lodges by the walls.

Not many people were in the outer courtyard either. Five or six ox carts were parked by the larder, although their drivers were nowhere to be seen. These Gabrielle knew to be loaded with supplies for the border forts; they would leave for them the morning after next, as they always did, every ten days like clockwork, festival or not.

Near the chapel she passed three soldiers. They paid her no attention, but were lost in an animated conversation. She caught a snippet. "...no I'm telling you, the guy can drink an entire bucket of wine in one sitting and..." They were fairly drunk, and she thought that this was a good concept. After the dinner and the ceremony, she'll raid the Great Hall cellar and get shitfaced by herself on the battlements, watching the fireworks from above. It will be almost like a party.

Pelagius took full advantage of nobody looking and appropriated the finest cold dishes from the larder, assembling a dinner fit for the King himself. He took it upon himself to entertain everyone with his favourite anecdotes, gathered over forty years of priesthood. Some of them, like the one about the penitent eggplant farmer, were actually pretty good.

The ceremony afterwards, however, dragged on infinitely. They went to the chapel's nave, a great room with a marble floor and pointed lancet windows, stout columns supporting its far-away ceiling, a room which amplified and echoed even the smallest sound made within. Along the walls stood carved stone statues of the gods, looking indifferently down on any humans that might be passing, and Pelagius lit a candle for every god in the pantheon, and the three monks intoned a separate hymn for every candle. In the end, they were left with thirty six candles burning in front of thirty six effigies. Even Vulmar, Adhemar and Valdemar were singing through yawns by the end. This work well done, the four men retired to their rooms, and Gabrielle was finally free to go.

She walked outside, leaned against the oaken chapel door, and exhaled heavily. The stars were already out, and the pleasant cool air was alive with the usual cicada noise. Somewhere, someone was drunkenly singing a song. Several windows in various castle buildings were lit, but in general it was difficult to even make out the walls and the turrets against the sky -- it was, after all, the night of the new moon before Midsummer. Kicking out with her feet, she started along the path to begin her quest for wine.

To her left, in some distance, the gatehouse was well lit. There she knew the men were sober as swine. Walking on, she also noticed that a candle was still burning in Dodo's room, and that the front door was left ajar. Curious, she went over there and peeked inside.

The candle was nearly burned out on the table, tallow trickling from its stone stand onto the wood. Sitting propped against the wall was Dodo, snoring quietly, with an empty bucket by his side. Gabrielle leaned down and examined it; it was stained with dark red residue. She laughed to herself. That crazy bastard was actually capable of drinking a full bucket in one sitting! The soldiers she had passed earlier must have talked him into doing this. She tapped on his forehead with her knuckles. It didn't even change the rhythm of his snoring.

She straightened up and looked to the door to the dungeons. Aerin! A new prospect for the night opened. Maybe she'll bring some wine down there and get him to talk shit about all of Harmen.

Or, a more practical bit of her brain piped up, if he lets you chain him down safely enough, you two could fuck.

Cicadas sang. Dodo snored.

She leaned on the table and stared hard into the candle's flame. You did not just think that for serious, she insisted. She could hear her heart bang inside her. Serious. Dead serious. Yes. This is perfect. There's literally nothing in the way.

No. No no no no no, nope. She rushed outside. This was too risky, if anyone caught her she'd probably end up in a convent for life, it would be just beyond all reason.

The courtyard was still only filled with starshine. A dog barked in the kennels by the opposite wall. Come on. There's nobody around. You're stuck here, who knows for how long. When will you even have a chance to have sex again?

She walked forward a few steps. No. There's no way he'll be up for it!

You can't know that if you don't ask.

What if she gets pregnant? How would she explain that to Paula?

You know where Mista's stash of silphium tea is. That will take care of that.

She stopped. She shifted her weight from heels to toes and back a few times. She opened her eyes wide. Her whole body was jittering a little.

She turned around, found herself in Dodo's room, closed the front door firmly behind her, grabbed a pair of fetters on a long chain, lit a torch off the candle, and rushed down the stairs.

*

Aerin lay awake. There had been some unusual commotion outside throughout the day, upbeat songs and music. Some people had even visited Dodo and for more than an hour they had laughed and talked very loud. Only when the night came did the noises start to die down.

He counted the days he'd been locked up. It was now just before midsummer. He correctly guessed that this was the reason for the festivities. How strange it was, to hear carefree people enjoying themselves while he was here, underground, distressed and alone. How can such different states of mind even exist in the same world, let alone in the same place and time? This overheard cheerfulness made him feel more isolated than the stone walls and iron bars ever could.

He lay down on his bedding and idly poked at the mossy mortar between the bricks, his thoughts beginning to wander off to far-away places, when the door upstairs suddenly opened.

He sat up.

There were footsteps on the stairs. Torchlight got in from the passageway and within it he saw someone's shadow, a silhouette on the limestone. Then into the corridor came the girl herself, Princess Gabrielle, short of breath and apparently agitated, a pair of manacles swaying heavily in her hand. She looked around, installed the torch in a grip carved in the wall opposite the cell, and turned to face him.

"You aren't asleep yet?"

He made a gesture with his hand vaguely indicating his upright position, all while wondering what fresh hell was this.

"Good." She hurled the manacles up over a horizontal bar of the cell's grating, so that they hung about a foot above her head. Startled by metal clanging loudly on metal she glanced towards the stairway and stood still for a minute. Eventually, she faced him again.

"Okay," she paused, and licked her lips. "Take off your clothes and put your hands in the fetters."

What. "What?"

She was breathing unevenly. She grabbed at the grating and leaned on it. With the torch burning behind her, her hair shone like gold around her head, and her blue eyes seemed almost black, locked on his and in some trancelike state. "Aerin," she said. "Do you want to fuck me or not?"

Well then.

He got up, a little unsteady. She... was into him? That would actually explain all the weird shit that was happening. But this was a ridiculous thing to consider, wasn't it? This is a trap of some sorts. He mustn't walk into it. Hasn't he learned the lesson not to go for dangerous things?

He stared into her eyes. He took several steps forward. Fucks sake. Is this what a moth feels when it sees candlelight? He was barely breathing. His blood felt hot in his veins. If the girl told him to grab that torch by its flaming head he'd probably do it.

He walked under the manacles. She stepped away from the bars, still watching, tense and attentive. He grabbed at his shirt, turned around with nonsensical bashfulness, and pulled the material over his head. This felt like dismantling defences before an oncoming enemy, yet also like a liberation. There was no going back now. He took off his trousers and kicked them away. He lifted his hands to the fetters. With his entire skin, he only felt cool air.

As he stripped, she bit at her mouth so hard her teeth almost crushed her lips. He went for it. He actually went for it. Holy shit, they were gonna do it. She's gonna fuck a Kontarian prisoner. Reality fuzzed a little. Her brain split evenly between an unrestrained joy and a profound dread. You're gonna get caught, you idiot! No matter. No matter. She tapped at her dress and found the key. She approached him cautiously -- what if he's just trying to trap her? Maybe he'll try to seize the moment, herself, and the cell key? She proceeded with utmost attention, ready to jump back at the slightest twitch of his muscles -- but he stood still.

The key was pretty small and she actually found it hard to jam it into the keyhole of the manacles, them overhead and her hands refusing to cease their jittering. She began with his right arm, clasping the iron over his wrist -- which was still bruised where he had struggled against the ropes on his way here -- she hoped it wouldn't be too uncomfortable -- the lock mechanism resisted the turning key, but eventually something clicked -- the fetter was secure -- oh fuck, oh fuck -- she repeated this with his left -- another bruise, another click -- and it was all done, all ready. She exhaled and took a step back.

He stood there, with his back to her and to the grating, his hands now made harmless, hanging several inches above his head. Torchlight danced uneven on his back. He looked great from behind, muscles tense across his shoulder blades, others rising in slender columns along the curve of his spine, dimples at the small of his back, a wonderfully slappable ass. What she came here for, though, was on the other side. She strode and unlocked the door and entered the cell.

There it goes, he thought. He was powerless, naked, and his cock was getting hard, a very visible sign of his sincere desire for her. She went in front of him and looked at him, all of him. Yep, this is me. If you're actually here just to mock me, then I've served myself on a silver platter. If there's a whole bunch of torturers you're hiding upstairs they can barge right in.

She reached for the straps of her dress and started to untie them.

Oh, okay, he thought, tensing. Okay.

He is gorgeous, she thought, fingers fumbling on the straps and breath racing faster still. His light eyes were fixed on her. His body was lean and fit, the muscles of his chest drawn up by his arms bound overhead, his ribs revealed in the half-shadow with each nervous intake of air, his abs in turns flexing and relaxing gently. Between his legs, his beautiful Kontarian cock was rising through the air, heartbeat by heartbeat. She finally defeated all the straps, clasps, belts, and freed herself of her dress. With movements dreamlike and detached yet decisive, she took off her underwear and stood naked before him.

This was, he thought, the most spectacular sight he'd ever seen. The body she exposed before him was splendid; her perky firm breasts in perfect proportion with her slender frame, nipples hard in the cool air; her flat hard stomach, toned from years of horse riding, framed with shadowy pits where its muscles gently receded before her flanks and hips; the girly curves of the hips themselves; the expanse of smooth skin at her thighs; the narrow groomed strip of dark pubic hair; the soft cleft below. He swallowed, and gripped his chains.

She ran her hands across her breasts and abdomen. She didn't need him to tell her that he liked what he was seeing. His cock was hard, tense in the air, pointing right at her, pulsing and taut under pressure. She smiled and turned a bit, to give him a good look anywhere he wanted. She'd missed this so much, that feeling of a guy's eyes skimming through her naked skin.

Then she caught eye contact with him, blushed, and looked back down to his body. This surprised her. Why was she delighted with him staring at her naked, but suddenly shy to look him in the eye?

Anyway, enough of this.

She walked over to him. She put her hands on his chest. His skin was burning, and his heart pounded against the inside of her palm. She moved her hands down, taking time to press at his abs with her fingertips, and finally rested them on his hips. So smooth, so firm. It's like the gods created him specifically to turn her on.

She drew her left forearm around his neck and with her right hand grasped the grille behind him and lifted herself, putting her feet on a horizontal bar several inches off the ground, on either side of his legs. The bar was maybe half an inch thick, round in cross-section, rough and uneven black iron. It dug painfully into her soles as her entire weight rested on it. She threw her right arm around Aerin's neck too and shifted herself onto him, hugging him very close, their naked bodies suddenly in full contact.

She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on his. He sighed as her breasts pressed soft against his chest, and the tip of his cock was squeezed by her pubic mound. She leaned heavily against him, and her warmth, her weight, her feel were so amazing that he forgot all else in the world. He wanted to take her, to come inside her, so, so bad. Still, he didn't move. She was waiting for something. Their foreheads were touching, but to both of them the thoughts of the other were a complete mystery.

Her rational brain was making one last appeal not to do this, but it was no use. She felt that his whole body was shaking, shaking with lust for her. She would not deny this to herself, and she would not deny this to him.

She climbed to her toes and reached down and grabbed his cock. She stroked it a couple of times -- hard like the iron bar, but hot, pulsing, full of life. She guided to her pussy, and air played on his vocal cords as the tip touched the slippery, delicate flesh. When all was in place, she again held onto his neck with both arms and exhaled with a long, shaky, half-laughing breath. Very, very slowly, savouring every moment, she settled down with her ankles, taking him inside her.

She greeted every bulge, every vein under his velvet-smooth skin as it passed her labia and disappeared in her. Her pussy slickly stretched to make room for him, more and more of him, this feeling of fullness growing, swelling, expanding inside her, the boy's body now within hers. He pulled hard on his chains and moaned into her neck as he felt swallowed into her, his cock penetrating deep into that divine body, experiencing it totally and without limits. She returned his moan when she reached the end and their pubic hair touched, him filling her whole, almost too much too bear. She held that position awkwardly for a long moment, feeling his heartbeat from within. They can catch us, she thought, I don't care. So worth it.

Now he moved, shifting his hips forward and arching his body towards her, seeking more contact. She glanced at him and again her eyes darted away from his. She leaned down and kissed his jaw, and then continued down his neck. She tried to ride his cock, but it was barely possible in their position, forcing her to stand on her toes and back down. There was another horizontal bar in the grating at about the height of his hips. She hung from his neck and threw her legs over it, sticking them out of into the corridor, the iron digging painfully into her back thighs. Now he could thrust forward directly into her, and he did just that, forceful, feverish moves that made her sigh with pleasure. She let go of him with one hand and played with her clit, hanging precariously, even the ache in her exerted back muscles feeling fantastic.