tagChain StoriesEnchanted Twelve 2

Enchanted Twelve 2


Author's Note: Following is the second connecting chapter to the chain story "Enchanted Twelve". Each Princesses' story is being written by different writers here at Literotica. For those reading this series as a group I do hope you are enjoying the tale. Here is a quick reference: Enchanted Twelve 1 is the first connecting chapter, followed by the first chapters of the Princesses' stories, followed next by Enchanted Twelve 2, then the second chapters of each Princesses' story again. This will continue until the chain is complete. Enjoy the tangled web we weave. ~ Red

The Princesses of Westingfield

Ages/Birth order:

25 years ... Danielle
24 years ... Mandy (twin to Millay)
24 years ... Millay (twin to Mandy)
23 years ... Angelina
22 years ... Quinn
21 years ... Robin (triplet to Hazel/Violet)
21 years ... Hazel (triplet to Robin/Violet)
21 years ... Violet (triplet to Hazel/Robin)
20 years ... Merry
19 years ... Aurelia (twin to #11)
19 years ... Ariel (twin to #10)
18 years ... Cecilia


The sound of pleasure rang in Andrew's ears as he tried to pull his gaze away from the couple. Bare skin slapped bare skin. Sounds of slippery fluids seemed to be more pronounced the more he watched. Yet, the cobbler could not turn away. His hands were clenched in fists. His knuckles were white and his jaw hurt from the grip he had on his teeth. Still he stood there transfixed as Danielle's body arched, signaling another climax.

The tears had stopped falling after the first round of sex that the Princess and the young man, Simon had had. It was quickly replaced by anger. The anger was so great at times that he had almost torn off the invisible cloak that Queen Andrea had given him. Only his promise to serve her stopped him from doing so.

He watched now, Danielle rose from her lover in a mindless state, pulled on her dress and held the man's hand as he walked her back to the path they'd trod moments. Andrew followed them, darkness and rage brewed deeper within him. The couple eased into the boat, again he slipped in.

"What was that?" he heard Danielle ask her lover.

Simon however shrugged his shoulders, while one hand fondled the Princess's breast. Andrew pulled his eyes from the man's pawing and over to Danielle's face. He tried to communicate to her that he was there, yet her attentions were drawn away by a pinch that was delivered to her nipple.

The servant rowed them further from shore and soon Andrew was again forced to watch Danielle's mouth swallow the fluids that rushed from Simon's shaft. Only the sound of wood scrapping rock brought Andrew's attentions away from the sight. He glanced up, witnessed an awkward goodbye between Quinn and another. Her face seemed flushed in the emerging morning light. Had she too spent the past hours in the arms of a man? He glanced briefly at the parting figure and wondered what was familiar about the man that had escorted one of the Westingfield Princesses. Andrew shook his head, trying to come to terms with the activities that he had bore witness to.

Danielle's lover; how Andrew hated the term, slipped out of the boat and disappeared into what Andrew could only describe as a thick fog. A part of him wanted to follow Simon, a name he now detested more than the rumors that had long surrounded the eldest Princess. He did not though, instead he sat in the boat and watched as a servant rowed them across the water.

They finally reached shore; Andrew recognized it as the one they had come to upon leaving the castle. He climbed out of the boat after Danielle, hoping not to catch her attention. There was no need for him to worry. He realized, after a brief moment, the silence that floated between the two sisters; nor could he not see both girls were once again in a daze. "Bewitched," he whispered to himself as he stood there in a trance of his own making.

He heard the sound of other couples approaching; boats scrapped the bottom of the river. Footsteps were slightly muffled by grass covered in morning dew. No sounds passed from the lips of the Princesses. Each one held the glassy stare that he'd seen when they first left Westingfield so many hours ago.

A chill crept over him as he saw Cecilia. He should have stayed with her. She was special. She was not like the other girls. Andrew cursed himself for not being able to protect all the sisters and instead focusing on the eldest... the obvious whore and liar of the group. Rage once more surfaced as he watched the girls pair off and quietly make their way back through the woods and into the thick bushes and brambles of the enchanted lands he'd visited. Andrew followed, keeping himself far enough away that his breath would not disturb any one this time.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Angora sneered as the familiar, yet long missed magic left her part of Oarthland. Andrea had been there, she'd sensed it, yet there had been no physical sign of her sister's presence. The fragrance of Andrea however had spilled into the air and had drifted to Angora's domain.

By the gods and goddesses, how she hated that smell. Purity. Hope. Love. Things that Angora craved but had lost when Andrea took herself and the man she loved away from Oarthland. Long slim fingers curled around a small sphere as she rose up from her chair and walked over to an worn desk. There she took her place behind it, resting her trim and supple figure on a cushion of black velvet.

Her hands reached for a quill, which she dipped into the crimson fluid of some creature she'd slaughtered. The Princesses had come again, danced again, drank and ate the foods she'd set out before them. But her plan was taking too long and Angora felt anxious, especially now that her sister had seen fit to interfere.

How she'd done it, Angora did not know, nor in the end did it truly matter. One of the Princes of Oarthland had come to Angora and asked her for help. He'd shared with her the dreams he had been having as well as confessed his love and utter devotion to the youngest Westingfield child. He'd begged for her help and of course for the sake of love who was Angora to not offer.

Angora reached out and pulled on a cord that hung close to the desk. The sound of a bell rang through the walls of the tower where she spent her days and nights. It was quickly followed by the shuffling of feet. She looked up as the door to her rooms opened and a young woman stepped over the threshold.

"Marie, Prince Cassius will be joining us for supper this evening. He will be bringing a friend. Be sure to prepare a place for them to stay, somewhere in the lower part of the tower. A place that is private." The young girl bobbed and turned away, not saying anything to the witch, then again she could not, for Angora had seen fit to remove the child's tongue when she purchased her several years ago.

The door closed softly on the witch and once more she was left alone. She turned her attentions to a small hand mirror. Her gaze focused on the eyes that stared back at her. They were her own, yet they were also those of Andrea's. "You took all I loved," she whispered to the distorted image of two sisters merging as one, "now it is my turn." A smile rose from Angora's lips as the face behind the glass paled.

~ ~ ~ ~ * ~ ~ ~ ~


Andrew sat on the same chair that he'd been seated in when the Queen of Westingfield had first asked him to look into the mystery surrounding her daughters. Across from him she sat, her hands folded calmly in front of her and her gaze holding his bowed head as if beckoning him to speak. Yet, words would not come to Andrew. He wasn't sure how to answer the Queen's questions concerning her daughters.

He did not want to confess that Danielle had spent her night frolicking between the thighs of some Lord of some unknown kingdom. Nor did he want to confess to her that he'd not protected young Cecilia, or followed the footsteps of the other Princesses, but in fact had no clue as to what any of them had done. No clue with the exception of Danielle. His fists formed into tight clenches and he rose from his seat, anger clearly evident on his young, troubled features.

"I take it the news you have to share is not something you wish to speak of."

Queen Andrea's voice forced him to look back at her and when he did he felt as if perhaps she already knew what was happening to her children. "I could not track them all Your Highness. I followed them from the castle rooms, to your gardens and then down a path that I had never seen before. One that doesn't exist at all, for I went there this morning and no path exists. It was there and yet it is no more."

"It is the portal. The one my sister has opened."

"I assumed as much, Your Highness. We all traveled down it. The girls had no qualms about going forth, no troubles in pushing through hanging branches, or stepping over fallen timber. Not even Cecilia."

"That doesn't surprise me. From what your describing it sounds as if my sister has entranced them all. They move by a will that is not their own." Andrea moved over to the cobbler and placed her hand on his shoulder, gave it a gentle, yet firm squeeze and spoke again, "No matter what it is you saw, or heard, you must remember that they act because of the spells, or at least they act because a part of them yearns for what is happening, a part of them Angora has awoken and they act on basic needs as well as innocent curiosity."

"You speak as if you know what I saw and yet you ask me to tell you of it."

Andrea smiled softly. "My sister and I were close once. We played with spells; we learned how to read people. To see deep within them to a place that they didn't know even existed. If used properly the spell is a wonderful thing, if used wrongly it can harm the one who is under it. You say you tracked one of them? Which daughter did you follow?" Andrea moved back to her seat, reclaimed it and motioned for Andrew to do the same.

Once he did, another deep breath was drawn into his lungs and he launched into the tale of Danielle. By the time he was done, his body showed signs of reliving the erotic scenes the young Princess had found herself involved in. His face was red, from holding back the rage. His hands clenched once again into tight fists and he knew as hard as he had tried he could not hide the aroused state the image of Danielle lying naked and withering in passion had caused him.

Andrea said nothing as she listened to the cobbler speak of her eldest daughter's activities. She could tell by Andrew's voice and the way he moved as he spoke that what he'd seen had caused him great distress on many levels. To her this was a good sign. He was not merely aroused by watching her daughter partake in less than holy activities, but he was angry.

Angry that it was not him? She wondered. She thought of the spell and how it had led her to choose the cobbler as the 'savior' for her daughters. It was apparent to her that he cared deeply for her daughter as well as for the well fair of the other ones.

The Queen rose from her seat and sat next to the young man. "Master Cobbler. I know this is hard for you, but you must return to Oarthland tonight. The girls will be called again. This time try to speak with Danielle, even if it is just by revealing your voice, but not your image. We need to draw a part of her into that world so that she will remember that what is happening is real."

"Your Highness, you ask too much of me. I can not go back there. I can not watch her... do those things again. Not with him."

"Do you love my daughter?"

Andrew's eyes shot up to meet those of the Queen. He said nothing as he studied her face and ran the question back and forth in his mind. After a moment, he simply shrugged his shoulders and muttered, "Truthfully, after what I saw... I just don't know."

Andrea sighed. "Remember she has no choice, no will but that which is fed into her by Angora. Please understand that. Try to help her. Help us all. I fear we do not have much time."

The cobbler closed his eyes and nodded his head. "I will go again. I will follow her and try to track the others. How do I reveal a part of myself to her?"

"Just whisper in her ear, lift the hood of the cloak just enough for a small part of your face to appear to the air around you. Stay in the shadows if you can and then you can speak with her. If she turns to face you, drop the hood and you'll be safe."

Andrew nodded his head, then turned to leave, pausing when he saw the door open before him. "Your Majesty," he said, dropping to a low bow and then rising when King Bartholomew entered, "I have just finished giving my report to Her Highness."

"Then I will learn of your tales from her. Go now and rest; I am sure this mystery has not been solved in one night."

"No Sire, it has not."

Andrea watched as the cobbler left, his body weary yet still apparently aroused by the story he'd shared with her. Her husband, and King, closed the door behind him and approached. She rose, waited for him to sit and then claimed his lap as her resting place. "He is troubled," Bartholomew said as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close against him, "But he still continues on this quest."

"Yes, he does. He loves our daughter. Our eldest."

Bartholomew smiled, though a small frown followed. "A common man for a less than common woman. Will he have the strength to deal firmly with Danielle?"

Laughter fell from Andrea's lips. "Oh I believe he will. Let me show you what he saw in Oarthland."

Over the next several hours Bartholomew fought lust and anger as his wife performed acts of erotica that he enjoyed having done to him, but not necessarily glad knowing that his eldest daughter was as skilled as her mother.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Andrew tossed and turned in his sleep. Images of Danielle's figure moved behind his closed lids. His eyes shot open as the woman in his dreams cried out in passion. Sweat dripped from Andrew's frame. He moved from the bed, pushing covers away as he did. His feet rested on the floor. He pushed his hands into his hair and held his head. He could still see her, hear her and smell the proof of her sins.

The cobbler rose, pulled the shirt he'd taken off earlier over his head and pushed his long legs into his worn breeches. His feet were roughly shoved into socks, then quickly boots that showed both fine craftsmanship, but age as well. He left the room where he had been placed above all other servants. It felt odd to live in such a spacious area. He was used to his small cottage in the village, but because of his present circumstance he now slept in a room that had more space than his workshop.

Andrew made his way to the kitchen. His stomach growled as soon as the aroma of stewed pheasant reached his senses. He paused long enough to dip a dry wedge of bread into the stew's broth and dart out of the cook's brandishing spoon. A soft smile rose from his lips as he heard her cackling voice through the hall. The bread soon found a place to rest in the corners of his mouth; the stolen juice eased along his palette tempting him to moan in delight at the flavor.

He made his way through the halls of the keep, eventually finding his way into the courtyard. He glanced up, noted two of the Princesses with their heads pressed together. He said nothing, not quite sure how to act toward the ladies anymore. He knew what Danielle had done, but what of the others?

Queen Andrea's words washed over him. He tried to push back the anger he'd felt toward Danielle. It was true, she hadn't had a choice... had she? He didn't know. All he understood was what he'd seen. Danielle had enjoyed the passion that Prince Simon had driven from her. She willingly took his seed into her mouth as well as her womb. That thought made him stop in his tracks and he felt himself sway.

"Andre... Master Cobbler!" He jerked his head and saw Danielle running toward him. Immediately he stiffened and turned to leave her presence. "Cobbler!" she shouted. He stopped, took a deep breath and waited for her to finish closing the distance between them. He felt her behind him and knew she waited for him to turn around.

After taking a deep breath, he spun on one heel and stared back at her. "Yes, Your Highness?"

Danielle blinked back at the look of hostility in the man's eyes. She wasn't prepared for it, nor did she understand it. "Are you alright?" her hand reached out to touch his arm, "I saw you were about to fall and..."

Andrew jerked away from her intended touch. "I am fine Your Highness. There is no need to trouble yourself with such as me. If there is nothing else." He lifted a brow, then turned to go.

"You are dismissing me?"

He heard the shock in her voice. His fingers curled into fists at his side. He turned again to face her. "No, Your Highness. What do you seek from me?"

"I... well, there is nothing. I just thought you looked ill."

"There is much on my mind, Your Highness, again no need to trouble yourself with the likes of me."

"Andrew, stop this," Danielle hissed, stepped closer and stared intently back at him, "what is wrong with you? Why are you being so... formal?" She was surprised that she missed hearing her name fall from his lips. Granted she knew it was not proper, but she also recalled numerous times when the cobbler would drop the formalities of royalty and call her by her given name.

Andrew took a deep breath before speaking again. "I apologize Your High... Danielle. I felt it best to remain in my place."

"Since when?" she asked; a nervous chuckle was easily heard behind her words.

He paused in attempts to come up with something believable. He could not tell her that he needed to place distance between his feelings of desire and love and instead focus on the anger within him. He could not feel for this woman; she'd laid with another. "Since I am living within the walls, I felt it wise to remain aloof. In view of the other servants, I thought this the most wise move."

Danielle frowned. She couldn't argue the fact. He was right. Too many liberties from one servant would lead to others. "Very well. But before... you did look ill."

"I had to swallow something that was hard to stomach. I am well now."

Danielle smiled. "Good. Where are you headed?"

Andrew frowned. "Princess Danielle, why the sudden interest in my behavior?"

His question caught her off guard. She took a step back; her face grew flush. "I..."

Andrew lifted his hand to stall her words. "I am on my way to the village to see how the young lad is doing."

"Then you can escort me to the church."

Andrew coughed at her statement. "The church? You dare step... ahh, confessional. By all means Your Highness." He offered his arm to her, forgetting the earlier excuse of proper etiquette; though Danielle frowned, she took it.

They walked side by side. Her hand rested on the curve of his forearm. He held himself stiffly against her. "Andrew, what has upset you. Please do not lie."

The village was quite a distance and the cobbler knew he could not walk the entire length without speaking to her. "I am troubled. I did not sleep well last night."

Danielle's breath caught in her throat. "Oh?"

"Dreams." He looked over at her with a lifted brow.


"Aye. They plagued me."

"What did you dream?"

Andrew continued to lead her down the path toward the village, however he slowed their steps. "I dreampt of a magic land, one where there were several royals dancing the hours away. I suspect it is because it was the first night I'd ever spent in the castle."

Danielle's tongue snaked out to lick at her lips. "I am sure that is it. Tonight will be better."

"Do you believe so?"

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