A Midsummer's Saga Pt. 07

The sensation of her holding him close was still on his mind when he woke up the next day. Just the memory alone made him feel warm in the cool morning air. That, and the recognition that she trusted him to touch her.

He rose and stretched out his arms above his head. He'd been so starved for her touch. Now he only wanted more. Can the afternoon please hurry up and come?

He then recalled the show he'd given her beforehand, and he cringed and grinned at the same time. Oh man, how embarrassing. And how delightful. He'd meant every move, every moment of his submission, and despite his surface vexation, he knew that deep down he was unashamed -- no, he was glad she's seen him like that. Seen right into him, and enjoyed what she saw. Some elation, light and airy, filled his insides; and also a confidence that he could give back to her the happiness that she gave to him. He wanted to get to her the same way she's gotten to him; he felt that she'd enjoy that very much. Besides, the girl needed to be shown her place a bit. Who does she think she is, bossing people around like that? Alright, well, she's a princess. Who's saving his life. Yeah, but, like, besides that? Yeah, exactly.

Maybe, before this is over, they'd have a chance to be with each other without any iron in the way. Maybe...

He looked around him. The cell was still and quiet, as was its habit. His thoughts were brought back to the present.

He was getting somewhat worried about the whole Dodo thing. Now that he'd been given so much hope for an escape, the thought of dying here after all was unbearable, a million times worse than before. But just like Gabrielle, he was also convinced that there must be some solution. Just gotta think.

He thought and thought, but the dungeon's bare walls refused to provide any inspiration. He shook his head and dug out Gabrielle's book from the straw. Maybe a fight with letters would get his brain going.

The problem with writing, he now came to think, is that the Harmeni have adapted Gebran letters, which had been invented for a completely different language. Now, in order to encode most of the sounds, they had to use some ridiculous compounds of the signs that made very little sense if you thought about it. It was a miracle the good people of Harmen ever managed to convey any meaning at all.

Still, the runic script of Kontaria and the Gebran alphabet did share some ancestry, far gone in the murk of history, and many signs were recognisable. He was making a good progress. He was pretty sure he could understand almost every sentence on the first page.

Having amused himself like that for some time, he now took out the mirror and jumped up to the window. Carefully, cradling it in his hands not to reflect any light to the courtyard, he turned it skywards. The silvery glass turned an intense blue, and in this blue Aerin saw again some scattered small clouds very high above. He smiled.

He stowed away the mirror and just swayed lazily, hugging the bars. It would still be hours until she came. He looked out to the garden, where a light breeze sometimes ruffled the grass and the tiny field flowers hidden within it. They were the same kinds that grew in Kontaria, and he knew all their names. Daisies, buttercups, clovers, nothing unusual. A bit more interesting were the plants purposefully planted there in neat beds. It didn't take a lot of brains to realize they had been selected for medicinal, rather than ornamental, purposes. Celandine, yarrow, anise. Foxglove, lumbering bumblebees fumbling around it. There were chamomiles, swaying white on stiff stalks. There was peppermint, discreet and unassuming. There was an elderberry bush under a poplar tree; and for a moment a gust of wind moved its branches away, revealing a smaller bush behind, which was—

Oh shit!

His forehead hit the bars as he lunged forward to get a better look, but now the breeze was gone, and the branches of the elderberries slouched back to their normal place, hiding the object of his sudden attention. He craned his head, waited for the wind to pick up, tried the other window; to no avail now -- the elderberries were obstinate, merciless and obscuring. He dropped down and walked impatiently around the cell. If that bush he glimpsed was what he thought it was... He bounced the implications around in his head. Yes! Perfect! He shouted for joy to the stone walls, but then tried to calm himself down. He had to make sure. Gabrielle, hurry the fuck up!

*

This was, apparently, his lucky day -- Gabrielle freed herself from her obligations several hours earlier than usual. The three friars were still in an awful mood, so the discussion again was mostly limited to listening to Valdemar bemoan the loss of valour and courage and the old ways, etc. etc. etc. It was not long after noon that she entered the garden, humming joyfully, another excuse book in her hand. The day was hot, Behem's old walls parching slowly in the sun, and curling up in the shadowy window niche next to Aerin seemed to her like just the perfect way to spend it.

She thought with pleasure how surprised he'd be to see her so early. Yet it was her who was surprised when, upon her coming to the window, she saw his face, wide eyed, rise up rapidly to the bars.

"Gabrielle! Do you see that elderberry bush over there?" he said urgently, without any greetings. She turned around and saw the shrub, under an old poplar.

"Yeah?"

"Okay, there's another bush behind it. Bring me a twig from it, with leaves and berries, quick!"

She looked at him, confused. What got into him?

Nonetheless she walked to the elderberries. There was, indeed, an inconspicuous shrub right beside them. She knelt to it. It grew small, pale leaves and sprouted small, red berries, bunched in neat rows on stalks that shot off its branches. She wasn't sure what this plant was -- it looked much the same as any other berry bush. She broke off one twig a couple inches long and brought it back to Aerin, who snatched it out of her hand. She sat down in the niche, struck by his expression.

He looked at the little branch transfixed. He then took one berry, broke its skin with his nail, and smelled it. A broad, triumphant smile broke over his face.

"Oh fuck me," he said.

"Gladly," she replied, "but what is this?"

"This, Gabrielle," he said, swinging the branch around and looking up at her, "is wickwort." He burst out laughing at her blank expression, and took a moment to continue. "It has one use, only one use. The juice from the berries is a painkiller, in small doses. Up until a spoonful, say. If you take any more than that, the side-effects start.

"It starts messing with your head. You fall into a trance and sit down, for hours, staring at nothing and drooling all over yourself. People see the world in colours like the northern lights, they think that elves and gods and demons are talking to them, they barely register what's going on around them. And all of this would be pretty neat and people would probably be growing this thing just for that, except the next day there's consequences -- well, basically you shit torrential shits and throw up for the whole day, and you wish you were dead."

Now she wrenched the twig away from him and stared at the berries. "Okay. Okay! So if I can feed this to Dodo, do you think—"

"Yes!"

"He would just sit here and not notice me sneaking you past?"

"Gabrielle, he would barely notice a horse clop up to him and kick him in the balls!"

"Shit! And will it last the whole night?"

He tapped the roof of his mouth with his tongue. Yeah, that could be a problem. "It definitely would if you could get a draught of wickwort, not the fresh thing. Basically, if you stow away the berry paste for several months in an oak cask it grows a lot more potent. The monks must be doing this if they're growing wickwort at all, that's how it's always administered."

She thought about it. "Alright, so it's a painkiller. Maybe they're giving it to the wounded soldiers, I could get in the infirmary and—"

"Nah, it's not really used for wounds. More like, internal pain. Back ache, menstrual cramps..."

She suddenly knew. "Migraines?"

"Yeah, exactly."

"Paula gets migraines. And she does take something for them, she's mentioned that! If I can get into her room..."

"Hey, don't take extra risks..."

"Shut it, I won't be. She's rarely there during the day, it would just be a little tricky to get in and out without any servants noticing..." She squinted and recalled to herself the chamber. Paula occasionally invited people to talk there in privacy, and Gabrielle had the dubious honour several times, mostly during her first week at Behem. She remembered the small table with plush chairs where she sat with dread, the creepy massive bed with black canopy and black linens, an equally massive and dark wooden wardrobe, and a small cabinet by the bedside... she closed her eyes. Yes, she was pretty sure there were some flasks on the cabinet. "Yeah, I think I know exactly where she keeps it. How much do we need?"

"Well, for Dodo's size... take as much as you can, works the same whether you overdose a little or a lot."

She popped a berry open herself and smelled it. It had a strong, distinct smell, a lot like aniseed.

She saw it clear now. She'd wait hidden outside of the dungeon and wait for someone from the kitchens to deliver the two bowls. When Dodo goes down to bring Aerin his meal, she'd slip in, pour the drought over Dodo's food, and get out -- half a minute exploit. With Dodo knocked out, there would be plenty of time to get Aerin in the cart. By the time anyone notices he's gone, he's safely away. She'll tie a rope to a wall somewhere to make it look like he escaped by foot. By the time they finish searching the castle and running around its surroundings with dogs, he'll be in Kontaria. Dodo will have a bad next day, but Pelagius will recognize his symptoms -- and Paula too, she must have been warned -- so this will get him off the hook. Then they may start investigating who helped Aerin, but what proof is there to implicate Gabrielle? Not a damn thing.

This was it. A working, doable escape plan. She looked at him, astonished.

"Aerin, we got it!"

"Yeah!"

She beamed. "Come here!"

She leaned in and gave him a bar-crossed kiss, and delighted herself with his presence, his closeness, their hands reaching out; and the kiss again led to caresses, touches, rubs and messing up of hair, which went on for quite a good amount of time. Then, eventually, when they felt that have had enough, they just stayed where there were, with arms across the grille and laid on each other.

"Gabrielle?"

"Mm?"

"When you're a noble lady already, buy a lot of Kontarian goods. Buy Kontarian horses. Our merchants go all over Harmen in peacetime. I'll join them, I'll seek you out. Maybe we can meet this way, someplace, sometime."

She was staring straight into his eyes, brushing his cheekbone with her fingertips. She lit up. "Yes. Yeah! Seek me out! I'll be waiting, even if it takes ages!" He smiled at her, a wonderful plan for the future made. Future, yeah! That was a thing again!

"We will have several hours between knocking out Dodo and putting you in a sack," she said. "I'll use them well, send you off in style."

He gripped her harder. His cock pressed against the cold wall. He wanted her so, so bad.

"Gabrielle, is anyone in the courtyard?"

"No, they've all hidden from the sun."

"Okay. Drop your undies and slip your legs in here."

She gave him an incredulous laugh. "Are you stupid?"

"Yeah. But aside of that, I want to eat you out."

This was the worst idea she'd ever heard. But also, she was wet, her heart was pumping like mad, and his smile was unbelievably gorgeous.

She scurried out of the niche. She looked around. There was nobody. She looked to any windows that might be overlooking -- there was only one, really, in a tower above the chapel, which belonged to a room that as far as she knew was never visited. She lifted up her dress and grabbed her underwear. She looked to the courtyard again -- all clear. With a shaking hand she pulled the undies off to her ankles, stepped over them, and threw them in Aerin's face. She climbed legs first into the niche and put her feet between the bars on each side of his head.

He threw her underwear back over his shoulder as her shoes moved past his ears, and more and more of smooth leg slid into the cell. In front of his eyes, her pussy was coming towards him, glistening and ready, a strip of pubic hair above it; finally, with her inner thighs hugging his cheeks, it stopped, right by his face.

He gripped her leg; his fingers sunk into the delicate flesh.

"You're a really beautiful girl, you know that?"

"Yes, obviously," she said, arching her neck back. The coast was still clear. "Well, enjoy your meal!"

He touched his lips to her skin and started kissing up her inner thigh, unhurried; she was soft, and delightful. He leaned his head downward and his hair fell over between her legs, brushing past and tickling; she hissed and tried to shift herself forward still, cursing the iron bars. He smiled, grazed her skin with his teeth, and let her squirm a little, his left hand travelling over to her hip, to feel her movements, the way she swayed.

He'd have liked to tease her like that for a long long time, but that time was very precious right now; with a grunt he faced forward, where she was all exposed before him.

From above, he took her outer lips between his finger and his thumb and gave them a gentle squeeze. Lazily, slowly, he made a rolling movement, watching as her pussy quivered by its own under his pressure, her muscles instinctively contracting in a rhythm; she clenched her teeth and directed all her breathing through her nose, trying to remain quiet; her clit was in his grip, and all her most vulnerable parts his to play with, and within her tension was rising.

He let her go, leaned in, and placed an earnest kiss on her pussy, coating his lips with her juices. With the tip of his tongue dipped and touched her clitoris, flicked, licked, circled, danced around it; she couldn't keep in a groan as nerve endings slid on nerve endings, exciting, arousing, communing, wet and warm. His cock was now poking straight into the wall; he readjusted himself, found a stable position, and with his fingers spread her inner lips wide, and gave a small pleased sigh at the sight that unfolded.

But there was more to be won here by feeling and tasting than by looking; he slid his tongue into her opening, dwelling for a moment on this favourite place of his; then relaxed it flat against her, and from the neck gave her a good, honest, long lick, along her delicate surface, all the way up to the clitoris. Her hip jolted; he repeated the movement, and again, this time pushing harder into her flesh right beneath the clit; she moaned, reached out and gripped him by the hair; and he had to be very careful not to scrape her with his teeth as he grinned to that. Yeah. I got you now, my pretty.

He kept lapping, she kept quivering. She arched her head back and gave a cursory glance behind her, but her attention was focused down, between her legs, on Aerin's smooth movements, slow pass after slow pass; it was so tempting to just close her eyes and get lost in the feeling.

He now changed what he was doing. He locked his lips around her clit and started sucking, gently, steadily. His head bobbed forward and back, and so did her hips; for a moment, there was confusion, and then they synched, found their rhythm. His tongue circled around again, pressing softly, looking for sensitivity, for a jolt, for a moan, for the place to tease.

"Yes, Aerin, fuck..." she said, uselessly. He slid his finger inside her. She tightened her grip on his hair. His tongue, his lips, his finger, they filled up her world. The hand on which she was supporting her weight trembled a bit.

He felt so, so good. She couldn't breathe evenly, dizzy with pleasure. She pushed herself further down, to give him better access to her, to let him suck evenly, surely...

She thought she heard a footfall behind her. Her head snapped back. Below the branches of the nearest yew, she saw the bottom of a sapphire robe and a pair of shoes, coming into the garden.

She swore and kicked out, disentangling her legs from the bars in panic. Aerin, suddenly out of grip, lost his balance and fell backwards, barely managing to land on his feet. She scraped her knee hard on the coarse iron, but she got out; she rolled out of the niche, dropped her dress down, grabbed the book, sat down against the wall, put her legs flat on the grass, and brushed hair away from her face. She glanced up. The intruder was only now emerging from behind the tree. She dropped her eyes to the book. She put it the correct side up and unsuccessfully tried to steady her breathing.

With even, poised steps, chin lifted up, keys jingling on their ring, Clement walked into the garden. He saw Gabrielle immediately. Some triumphant excitement briefly crossed his face, but it was quickly replaced with his regular glib smile.

"My lady! There you are!"

"Mhm," she muttered shakily. Her heart was beating about a thousand times per second. Her fingers were shaking, her knee was burning, and her pussy was wet and naked under her dress. Clement, if you could please, please, please go the fuck away right now, that would be great.

The majordomo, however, clearly intended to do no such thing. Slowly, treading heavily, he walked right up to her and crouched down, looking inquisitively into her face. She was flushed, she knew. She hoped it didn't show that much in the sharp sun. She made one more attempt to collect all her nerves, and lifted her eyes to his.

He kept her in silence for a very, very long moment. Finally, he smiled and spoke.

"You've been spending a lot of time here recently, haven't you?"

"Have I?" her heart, which was beginning to calm down, rushed faster again. He leaned into the niche and looked through the window. The prisoner was sitting against the wall, his head resting heavily on his forearms with his face hidden, apparently asleep or in a stupor. Clement moved away, back to Gabrielle.

"Yes, I think so. You used to spend your free time in the Great Hall, and now you're barely there."

She looked at him. He apparently said all that he wanted to, and just stared. A fly landed on her damp forehead, and she swiped it away.

"Well," she said, at a high pitch. Her breath was still pretty quick. "Now that the weather is nice, this is a good place to read, I think."

"Read?"

"Mhm. Book." She waved said book at him.

He stroked his trimmed beard. Then he smiled yet again, a smile that disturbed her more than anything else, though she did not know why. "Gabrielle, I wanted to talk to you about something important. Will you join me in my study?"

"Can't we talk here?"

"No."

What was with this man's look today? He stared like a vulture. Also, since when did he address her by her name?

She got up, unsteadily, and he rose beside her. He walked her out of the garden. As they were rounding the yew tree, she threw a final look at Aerin's window. She did not like the look of this, at all.

When they were in the open, he stopped. "Go first and wait for me, please. I have one small thing I need to take care of."

She nodded and went on. She was very glad to be rid of him, even for a short moment, to collect herself and think.

He watched her disappear in the inner courtyard gate. Then he turned around and sprinted to the entrance to the dungeon.

"Dodo!" he shouted, entering the foreroom. The guard was at that moment occupied with trying to balance a fork on the back of his palm; he jumped up, sending it with a racket to the floor.