Isabeau the Fair

Isabeau was born at the moment her mother died and her wicked step-mother moved instantly to comfort the king. Her ministrations soothed his troubled brow and he came to rely upon her. But she was devious, and poisoned the king's mind against Isabeau. She taught him to associate the poor girl with her mother's death, and soon she had Isabeau relegated to the kitchens. The castle was a rambling wreck and the kitchen staff had never so much as seen the old queen, let alone known more than that she had died in childbirth. They assumed Isabeau was a foundling, and as a kinless young girl she was given the hardest work.

The king soon forgot he had a daughter, even as his second wife proved unable to provide him with an heir. However, she was wise in counsel, and if truth be known the kingdom prospered and waxed strong at her prompting. She invested in smithies and the smiths soon produced prodigious quantities of armour, and horseshoes and arrowheads, and all the multifarious needs of war. She identified the nobles best fitted to lead the king's army and soon the kingdom's neighbours trembled at the sight of the king's knights and archers bearing down on them.

All this while Isabeau grew, and even as she slaved in the scullery it could be seen that she was a woman of some distinction, wise and witty though she usually covered this with a compliant nature in which sweetness and goodness vied for prominence. Her colleagues and superiors in the kitchen soon learned to entrust difficult tasks to her, not in punishment, but in gratitude that she would do them best of all.

One day the nobles assembled before the king and begged him to consider the succession.

"Oh Great King," they pleaded, "your armies have given you dominion unsurpassed since the days of the great Charles, and the world trembles before you. Everything you touch succeeds except for one thing. Though great you are mortal, and we fear for your conquests should it pass that, as we now believe, you leave no issue. Wherefore we beg you, our liege lord, take measures to choose a successor and set our minds at rest."

"And what do you suggest, my faithful barons?" he answered, graciously.

"Our neighbours have many younger sons," quoth they, "and of those there are worthy men. Have them come here and test them, then choose the best of them to be your son."

"It shall be so," sayeth the king, though his wife fidgeted in her throne, and her expression spoke of the need to manipulate the choice, ensuring a compliant young man of little intelligence and less initiative.

And so the word went out to the four corners of the known world, and made younger sons endure terrible hardships as they travelled to the castle. Many were the dragons, and gryphons, and wyrms, and strange-half men, and evil barons slain by these paragons. Bards waxed fat on tales of their journeys, before, on the appointed day, they assembled in the courtyard of the castle and the king welcomed them.

All the women from the kitchen had found places of advantage from where to view such a legendary assemblage of chivalry. All save Isabeau, whose comments about 'mutton-headed lard-buckets masquerading as heroes' made the more experienced girls roll their eyes in amusement. And so Isabeau remained in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches to the 1/20th scale cake in the shape of the castle she had made that was to be the centrepiece of that night's banquet.

She was just putting another miniscule roof tile on the great hall when there was a puff of smoke by the Cook's empty chair and a rather plump, sweet-faced old woman appeared.

Isabeau was a little taken aback, but the old woman bustled over to her with a cheery smile.

"Now, now. Never fear, for I am your fairy godmother and today is your eighteenth birthday."

"Errr..." fair Isabeau replied.

"And I have three gifts to grant you. Interested?"

"Too bloody right! Go ahead, even though I think you probably mean I've lost my wits."

"Very well," and the old woman raised a gnarled little wand and circled it over Isabeau's head.

"I give you sweetness, and goodness, and great efficiency in the kitchen. That should get you your fair prince."

Suddenly there was another puff of smoke, and an altogether more cynical old woman was sitting in the Cook's chair and smoking her pipe.

"Bertha, you old lack-brain!" exclaimed the second old woman, "can you not see that she already has those things?" And she turned to Isabeau, who was now goggling at these apparitions, "shut your mouth, girl, before a fly drops in. Now, I'm going to give you what you might actually enjoy. Come here and get your three gifts; my knee's playing up so you'll have to kneel down. I can't be having with all that wand waving malarkey so don't be surprised if I just bonk you on the head."

Isabeau obediently knelt in front of her second godmother (whilst Bertha looked on and tapped her foot in irritation). The cynical godmother looked up at the ceiling thoughtfully then smiled.

"First, I give you breasts which are comfortably bigger than a handful, but not awkward, with pert nipples that won't start to travel south until you're forty."

And Isabeau's breasts swelled pleasantly under her bodice.

"Second, I give you a pair of killer legs and a firm arse that will have men crying when you wear a pair of heels."

Isabeau felt a firmness around the buttocks and a rush of elegance in her legs that begged for an opportunity to be shown off.

"And thirdly, and most importantly for the third time is the charm, I give you the imagination and inventiveness to know what to do with my first two gifts."

And a wicked grin spread across Isabeau's face.

"OMG! When do I get started?" laughed Isabeau with more than a hint of impatience in her voice.

"No time soon if you're dressed like that," said the cynical godmother acerbically, "follow me, I know how to get into the royal wardrobe without being seen."

And so it came to pass that Isabeau was soon dressed in the most exquisite long dress with a bodice that pushed up her new tits and a skirt that seemed to hug her legs and arse.

"Now get out there and shake that funky stuff, and don't let me see you in that kitchen again," said the cynical god-mother as she disappeared in another puff of smoke.

Isabeau wandered through the corridors and ante-chambers of the Great Keep, but all the guests seemed to be elsewhere. Finally she happened upon a most handsome guest relaxing on a window seat in an unfamiliar chamber. He was looking downcast, for indeed he had been summoned there to be expelled from the competition.

Prince Bernhardt, for that was his name, was a fine flower of the chivalric art; he could skewer peasants without breaking stride, knew more about his dogs than his serfs, could dance and play dirty songs upon the lyre, and had a deserved reputation amongst the chambermaids in his father's castle. But he was also more intelligent than the run of the 'mutton-headed', and this had lead to his rejection at an early stage by the queen, who had no wish to be anything but ruler after her husband's death. Most importantly from Isabeau's perspective he had a bulging codpiece.

"Wowzers!" Prince Bernhardt exclaimed upon catching sight of Isabeau, "thou art stacked!"

"La! Sir, thou art most kind. And I confess that your manly thighs have me in something of a tizzy," said Isabeau, a coquette smile on her face.

"Hey baby! Dost thou wish to tarry awhile with a poor prince soon to be cast from this castle?"

"Cool. I'll chill with you. Hast thou slain many dragons?"

"A few. A few. But all to naught when I find the most beautiful woman in the world but must leave her."

"And who is this woman?" Isabeau gnawed her lip in jealousy.

"Why, you! Your legs go all the way up to here, and your breasts," and here the prince made a pleasing cupping gesture that indicated his appreciation.

"They are not my only gifts," said Isabeau, a knowing look on her face, "for I have also been gifted the inventiveness and imagination to use these other things to rock your world. What say we adjourn behind this curtain and I show you my attainments?"

The prince needed no further prompting and he led her to the quiet corner indicated. Isabeau knew not where her impulse came from but she blessed her cynical godmother as she knelt before the prince's codpiece. Her inventiveness now came into play as she unlaced Prince Bernhardt's codpiece. She reached in and pulled out his tool, just knowing that she should lick and stroke him before folding him in her lips.

"Verily!" the Prince groaned, "thou dost use thy tongue more prettily than the famed courtesans of Aachen, whom the Caliph's offer kings' ransoms to acquire."

Isabeau was charmed by his sweet compliment and went to work more thoroughly, so to bewitch her prince (for that is how she thought of him).

"Aagh! Fair maid, slow down or I will launch my catapult. And I must have thee between thy legs 'ere that happens!"

Isabeau reluctantly left hold of Prince Bernhardt's member, lightheaded as he unlaced her dress. As it fell to the floor and the prince glimpsed her legs and arse he did, indeed, gurgle incoherently (and mayhap he drooled a touch). But he was made of stern stuff, veteran of battles far and wide, wherefore he did not cry as the godmother had promised. Isabeau was a touch vexed at this but soon smiled as she saw his glistening lance, now proud and ready for her. And in truth, her assessment of his codpiece had been a trifle on the conservative side.

Whilst Isabeau had inventiveness and imagination, she lacked experience. However, fair Isabeau soon made up for this as she knelt and bent forward over a carved wooden chest depicting the long loneliness of St Gavarth of Rede. Prince Bernhardt pushed his shining sword against her virtue and, in moments, Isabeau felt anticipation, confusion, a sharp pain and then a deep pleasure. Truly, it even made her eyes stand on stalks for but a moment.

"Oh verily, sweet prince! That's hit the spot. I pray you continue," she said in a low, husky voice.

"Try and stop me! Fair maiden, I have finally found the perfect fit and I shall never abandon you."

Our young lovers then worshipped at the temple of their carnal love, and soon Isabeau experienced such feelings of delight that she was moved to sing most prettily, her skin glistening and Prince Bernhardt's veins standing out on his forehead as he reached that state the wise East calls 'the waves and the clouds'.

"Fair Isabeau, my betrothed, I must know of your family," said he as they cuddled, wrapped in a tapestry he had hacked from the wall with his broadsword.

"My lord I cannot help you. I have been eighteen years in the kitchen, taken in as a foundling."

"That cannot be! Thou art skilled as only a woman of noble birth may be. We shall see the king and resolve this enigma."

Prince Bernhardt led fair Isabeau to the throne-room (once they were respectfully attired). The king did not notice Isabeau at once, full of guests as the throne-room was, but the queen did. The sudden clatter as her goblet fell to the floor caused all eyes to look upon her, and then to follow her gaze.

"Wow, what a babe!"

"Damn me, corn-fed US prime and no mistake!"

"A-hugheda-hugheda-hugheda!"

These and other such comments flowed around the hall as the assembled young men caught sight of Isabeau. She both blushed and blossomed at once, glowing in the praise yet maintaining an elegant distance from her admirers. And the king...? The scales fell from his eyes and he remembered that he had a daughter, who stood now in front of him.

"My lords," he spoke shakily as he rose to his feet, "I have been beglamoured and I forgot my own dear daughter. And now she has returned to me, to us, in our hour of need. My lords, here is my successor, and I will marry her off to a prince from amongst you and..."

"Not on your bloody life!" Isabeau exploded in righteous wrath, "Eighteen years in the kitchen and now you think you can make decisions for me, dad?"

The king gasped for words. He failed in the face of her fury.

"Prince Bernhardt is the one I choose and the rest of you nerds, mutton-heads, arrogant tossers and all-round losers," this to the assembled guests, "can naff off! Is that all clear?"

The king gulped and agreed as the downhearted suitors filed from the hall and out to the stables, there to saddle their steeds for their journeys.

"Then, daughter, no doubt you wish me to put away the woman who poisoned me against you?"

Isabeau looked at her stepmother, who was gawking in shock at the scene.

"No, father. The whole castle knows that she does those domme things you crave so much, and I wouldst not deprive you. Besides, she can do the work for me until you pop your clogs whilst I enjoy my new husband."

"Yay!" exclaimed Prince Bernhardt, "I get to keep you barefoot and pregnant..."

"Think again, buster!" And Isabeau stamped her pretty foot, "I'm a career woman now. We will have our fun, and at the time of my choosing I will give you two children, no more, but otherwise our pleasure is not to be sullied. Think you can manage it three times a day? For the rest, we are a partnership."

Isabeau winked at the prince who smiled a lazy smile, and nodded.

And they all lived happily ever after...