Little Fur-Skin

The princess trembled, bottom damp with her father's seed, her pussy slickened by the moisture he'd called forth from her loins. The king let her go panting and dazed.

"We wed tomorrow."

He turned, appetite blunted enough to see him through. The man was pleased. So, his daughter could truly be swayed to the match- her hot blood was no feint! The beautiful wanton she'd become would succumb to his offered pleasures, and she would accept his cock and bear his babes. In time, he mused, both of them would forget they were ever father and daughter. Or perhaps, knowing they were would make their coupling all that much more intense and delicious. Palming himself through his breeches, he took his leave to clean up and finish plans for the wedding ceremony, feast, and night. After his many months of celibacy in the wake of his first wife's death, he planned to make use of his new bride's young, supple flesh for hours upon their marriage bed.

When he'd left, the princess sank to her knees and let the tears flow freely. How dare her father make such ill use of her! How dare her traitorous sex lubricate and find rapture in orgasm for him! She wept. The evidence of his determination hung before her proudly, glittering and glistening, and the woman saw no other way.

Before the accursed union could take place, she would be gone.

The princess spent the rest of the day and evening smiling through endless preparations for the marriage. Her ladies-in-waiting feigned their delight and fussed over her as if she stood to marry any other man- and their charge counterfeited her happiness as well. No one knew she intended to leave, and when she was at last alone to rest for the next day, she acted quickly.

It would be a terrible thing for the king to come, unable to restrain himself any longer, and the thought drove the princess into hasty action. The three gowns she folded into impossibly small bundles and wrapped in old cloth. From her box of jewelry and treasures she took but three items- a thimble, a wax-seal, and a ring, all of pure gold. These she placed carefully away with her dresses. Once her provisions were secured, she lowered her bundle out the window of her room, where it sunk into the shrubs to lie in wait. Then changing out of her royal attire, the princess put on her tunic, thick leggings, and boots, bound up her hair in rags, belted her dagger at her thigh and axe at her waist, shouldered her bow and quiver, and at last covered herself with the cloak of furs so that she looked no longer a beautiful king's daughter, but a rough, wild maiden. With her arms in place, the princess waited until the castle was asleep before she crept silently from her room.

Before departing forever, the forsaken woman visited the kitchens and helped herself to some cold meats, cheese, bread, apples, and a water-skin for her next-day's needs. Thus supplied, she claimed her pack and set off at last on the journey of escape from her awful fate. With only the stars and moon for company, the dagger under her fingertips, she walked the whole night through. Only as the sun rose did she seek shelter by climbing into a tree and lashing herself to a large limb, concealed by the thick foliage. There she broke her fast with a meal of meat and an apple, a draught from her water-skin and a piece of bread. Thus sated, she covered herself thoroughly with the cloak and slept the whole day through.

When nightfall came, the princess roused herself, tended her needs, and spent the night journeying on foot as far as she could go. Thus was her life for several nights. She stopped to fill her water-skin at any stream she found, and when she needed meat, she hunted. She picked wild berries and roots, mushrooms and nuts.

Weeks passed in this manner, until the princess at last reached a wood completely foreign to her and decided it would become her new home in exile. She voyaged now only long enough to find a merry creek running through the forest, and picked a large, sturdy tree to make her home in. Her needs met by nature, the princess settled there, far from home, and proceeded to carve out her new life. The tree had a large hollow in which she made her bed, and with the skills taught her by the kind woodsmen of her home, she began to build her shelter to last.

Time passed, and the outside world still wondered what had become of the radiant princess. When the wedding-day had come, the king hastened to his daughter's rooms and found her gone. He fell into a mad rage, driving off his servants, tearing apart the princess's chambers, howling like an animal.

The wedding guests that had come still did not know who had been intended as bride, but when the king of the land appeared in his fit, screaming about his missing daughter and accusing the visiting dignitaries of taking her or hiding her away, it became clear there would be no ceremony. All the guests left with the menace of war from a madman at their backs.

That was nearly two months before.

It so happened that the king who owned the wood in which the princess had hidden herself was out hunting, trying to find some peace from the looming threat of war. Though the mad king would be greatly outnumbered by the lands surrounding his, a man so devoured by rage could cause much damage. There was also the question of the princess herself. Where had she gone, and why? Did her father have a right to be so enraged, as though someone had taken the princess? Or were the rumors gathered by spies across the lands indeed true?

The young king, only twenty-one, was called Dastran. He'd inherited his kingdom at a tender age when his parents perished tragically in an accident. As of yet, he was unwed, and finally had begun to feel secure enough in his rule to marry. The mad king's rampage was causing him no small amount of distress. Hence the hunting trip. Dastran was using this time to clear his mind, as well as ponder on the strange, unsettling information he'd received regarding the failed wedding and the princess's disappearance. The older man had visited his land, of course, looking for a suitable wife. He'd been fixated on women of extraordinary beauty, with bright golden hair. None had sufficed. The many other kingdoms surrounding them both had reported the same.

Months after the madman's search had failed, he'd gone home, and a wedding had been declared soon after. If no woman had been selected from any of the kingdoms, then the bride could only have come from the elder king's own people. It was well known that the Princess Otivia was considered a great beauty, much beloved by her people, and that she had fine golden hair...

And then she vanished.

Dastran shuddered at the only logical conclusion he'd drawn from these events. It was his solid opinion that princess had not been taken, she'd left, to escape an unwanted marriage to her own sire. Now, there could be conflict over it. Even a pointless, one-sided war such as it promised to be would incur casualties and damage, and that was a conflict better avoided than simply won.

The young man's thoughts were interrupted, though, when his hounds and his accompanying hunters all rose to great alert. The dogs ran forward, baying excitedly, and took off deeper into the woods.

"The hounds have caught something!" The hunter nearest the king said. Dastran nodded, and the party spurred their horses in pursuit. The thrill of the chase set in, and for a short time, Dastran's worries were gone. He rode until the men all caught up with the dogs, who were sniffing around and barking up into the thick leaves of a mighty tree. The young king slowed his horse and stopped, then peered up.

"What is it?" he asked of his huntsmen. "Perhaps a wildcat, or something we ought not provoke?"

"We don't know yet, sire, but whatever it is, the hounds will not leave off it. Were it dangerous, doubtless they would be frightened." The head of the hunt nodded to his fellows, and one of them peered into the hollow of the tree. His gasp caught all their ears.

"Your highness!" The man declared. "There is a large creature asleep the tree, and its hide is unlike anything I've ever seen!"

By then, the noise and commotion had awoken the princess, who remained perfectly still in her hollow. Slowly and carefully, she lowered her hand to the dagger on her thigh.

Outside the tree, the king and his men were looking around. Dastran noticed the firepit built in a ring of stones, cleared of all brush and grass- the pile of wood, chopped and ready nearby. A skin was lying out on a rock, drying. Deer. The king held up his hand and stilled his men.

"Be cautious," he reproached them. "This is not the work of a beast." Suddenly there came a herk- and all heads turned back toward the tree, where a great furred creature had emerged and held a dagger to the throat of the huntsman that poked his head into the hollow. The hunter threw his hands up, and the creature held him tight. The king gasped. Though covered by a cloak or mantle made of many different patches of fur and hide, the figure in the tree was quite obviously a human, face browned with exposure to sun, dressed plainly under the rough cloak. "Let him go!" Dastran ordered. "We mean you no harm."

The princess narrowed her eyes at the group below her tree and very slowly let her captive go. These were not her father's men.

"Then leave me," she replied curtly, withdrawing a bit into her hollow. "And tell no one of my presence."

"Who are you?" Dastran challenged, causing the mysterious figure to pause. The voice, to him, was feminine but stern, and so he thought of her as a woman. Instead of shying away, the fur-clad woman looked at him with a fire in her gaze.

"I am but a poor child without father or mother. Take pity on me and leave me in peace." She made to withdraw.

"Wait!" Dastran called, coming forward. His heart pounded. A lone woman, hiding away in a great tree in his woods. She looked sad... and perhaps haunted. Her reaction to his man in her tree seemed aggressive, like she might be expecting someone else. "Do you not know me, little fur-skin? Do you not know in whose woods you reside and have-" there he pointed to her fire and the deerskin- "poached game?" The woman in the tree closed her eyes and grumbled.

"No, sir, I'm afraid I do not. But I have coin, to settle my debt for poaching. I only beg permission to retain my sanctuary." Dastran ushered away his men from the tree and sidled straight to the mystery woman, still on horseback.

"Keep your coin, fur-skin. I am King Dastran, and this is my wood. You have trespassed and poached upon my land, but I shall take pity upon you, and provide you sanctuary even more certain than this. You will come with me back to my castle. I promise you a bed and victuals, and you shall not come to harm, but I cannot let you remain in these woods."

The princess felt just a little contempt for this young king before her, but she also saw his order held wisdom; perhaps even greater safety. She had remained cautious and afraid for weeks, thinking her escape from home would not last. There was sense in sheltering somewhere more protected. If she did not want to betray herself as a wayward royal, it behooved her to cooperate as well.

"There is wisdom in your command, O King Dastran," she at last acquiesced. "I have little with me, and you and your men may take that fine buckskin as payment for my trespass. I swear upon my honor I only dwelled and hunted here for my own survival."

"I believe you," Dastran answered. "Now, come out of there and mount before me." Afraid of the last time a man had touched her, the princess's hazel eyes enlarged, betraying more than she knew. A wisp of hair escaped from under the kerchief tied over her brow, and the king saw it before she swept it away- the purest gold.

"Nay! I shall walk behind you, as I am only a wretched creature unfit to ride before a king."

It was too late, though. She did not realize it, but Dastran was already certain she was the missing Princess Otivia. Her reasons for hiding herself were yet to be discovered, but if his information and reasoning proved correct, then he would protect her, however she needed. He hoped she would come to trust him and confess that she was indeed the missing woman, in time. If he had to live under promise of attack from a neighbor, it might as well be for a legitimate reason, though the young king had no intention of betraying her.

"If you walk while we ride, you will only slow the group," the man insisted. "Don't be stubborn. Hand out your things, and come." Dastran held out a gloved hand. The princess bit her lip, but finally nodded. She turned inward to gather her things and finally emerged with her bundle and her weapons. One of the men whistled in awe. The woman allowed one of the king's huntsmen to take her bow and quiver and her axe, but her dagger remained strapped to her thigh below her fur mantle, and she held her pack tight to herself.

The woman took the king's hand carefully, and he helped her step out of the tree, into his arms. Once seated, she spoke for the king's ears alone.

"I will go with you, but I ask nothing more than what is needed to live, and work by which I may earn my bread in your household. There is no need to trouble yourself further upon my case, Highness." Her arms wrapped her bundle, and the king respectfully eased his grip at her waist so that they could ride back to his keep.

"Be at ease, for nothing shall harm you. You will stay at the castle and some work will be found for you. But will you not tell me your name, or from where you come?"

"I am no one," she replied, firmly. "Just a wretched creature in a harsh world, without comfort or love." Dastran huffed behind her, but held her securely nonetheless. Her secrecy was trying, but her warmth was welcome on his chest.

"Well then, I shall call you my little Fur-Skin," the king teased. He then sobered. "Fear me not, pet. I do not need to be a seer or sooth-sayer to see that you have been through tragedy. You can keep your counsel for now." The woman stiffened, sitting straighter before Dastran. She peered back at him over her hide-clad shoulder.

"Are you too known to suffering, Highness? Did the black cloud of tragedy not pass you by?" The princess saw he was a young king, not much older than she. For such a man to be king would mean his father, at least, had passed the world. She softened.

"Alas, Fur-Skin, it did not. I lost my own father and mother some years ago and have been king since I was a mere stripling youth. Tragedy comes for all, high-born or low."

"No truth more terrible than that," the princess sighed. Her body slumped, and she felt the king take her hand, offering his comfort. His touch was gentle, offering instead of demanding, and she felt... at ease.

"Rest against me, Fur-Skin. You're safe." The disguised Otivia allowed her head to drop upon his shoulder, and she gave a soft exhale. She did not let go of her pack, where all her precious things were kept, but she did allow the king to place his arm around her waist fully, and she even held him there. Dastran smiled. Keeping hold of his horse's reins, he spurred the animal into a gentle trot, and his huntsmen followed suit.

As she rested on him, the princess could not help but find solace in the smell of leather and man, and she was lulled into a drowse.

Dastran held her with supreme joy, his blood warm and heart open. The woman was clearly brave, and very resourceful. Though she'd hidden much of her comeliness from the light of day, he didn't need to see her full splendor to know she had true beauty. Taking in a suspected escaped royal might make him guilty of his neighbor's accusations, but he would gladly risk conflict now, now when he had just cause.

Returning to the castle took only a short time, and Dastran let the little one rest the entire way. His men remained respectfully silent, knowing only that their king had taken a... strange interest in the little forest creature. He must have some reason for 'arresting' her for poaching.

When they arrived, the king gently shook the drowsing woman until she perked up in his arms. Sleepily, she rubbed at her face.

"We're home, Fur-Skin," Dastran spoke gently. "I'll help you dismount now." She nodded and gave a yawn, and the king took her hand as she began to swing her leg back over the horse. He helped her to the ground, where she stretched her stiff muscles, then slung her pack over her shoulder. Dastran dismounted and turned his horse back over to the groom, giving the beautiful animal an affectionate rub before letting him go. The hunters returned Fur-Skin's weapons and gave their good-days, departing for their usual duties. That left their king alone with the mysterious woman, clad in leather and hide.

"What would you have me do, Highness?" She asked boldly, not wishing to present herself as an idle being. "I have some basic skills with the needle and in cleaning, and I have knowledge of both butchery and cookery." Dastran faced her, a twinkle in his eyes and smile at his lips.

"You may reside here as a guest if you will, Fur-Skin. I need nothing from you."

"Nay, Sire, I must work for my keep," she insisted, somewhat passionately. "I cannot impose upon you and not earn my place, especially after I've poached in your forest." To live with no responsibility was quite beyond her, and further still, the woman had to leave her old life behind! Being restless and pampered was not her way. 'Twas why she'd worked so hard- first at tending her mother, and then at tending her homeland while her father was away.

Dastran saw her practically jump from her skin with anxiety, and shushed her.

"Alright, Fur-Skin, if that is what you wish. Come."

The king led her into the castle, where he was greeted by a bevy of servants wishing to know his needs. He called for food and drink, and a room made up for his companion. Then he took her about the expanse of his castle and showed her where everything was- from chapel to ballroom to kitchens. Finally he led her to the wing kept private to the royal family- which consisted of himself and two sisters. One was elder, and the other younger, and both were visiting friends in the next kingdom over. Dastran brought Fur-Skin to a splendid chamber, just a few doors off from his own suite, and ushered her inside.

"Here, my guest, is where you may live while you stay in my home. I hope you will be comfortable here."

The displaced princess looked around at the spacious and elegantly furnished chamber, and she wanted to cry. How could this man offer so much to a ragged forest-creature like herself? She did not feel at ease in such a room- a princess's room. Turning abruptly, she shook her covered head.

"I cannot accept it, Highness," she breathed miserably. "It is far above my meager existence. It is kind of you to show such pity for me, but I wish for nothing of splendor, nothing of wealth- to live in such a room, in your own private wing... What will your people think? I am no one, Sire, no one. I am a wretched animal fit for nothing but whatever use you see fit."

Dastran's mouth became a tight line. The woman stood before him too proud and flighty to take mercy where it was shown. If she claimed to want nothing, no comforts, no charity, then what instead did she need? The king stroked his chin and pondered, assessing her behavior and all her earnest pleas. She was running. She did not want to be noticed. To gain his favor would be to call attention, and obviously, the fewer people who were curious about the Fur-Skin, the better in her mind.

At last, Dastran nodded.

"You wound my tenderness, Fur-Skin, but I think I understand your plight." Tucking his hands behind his back, he approached in a lazy manner, speaking with the blunt edge of command in his voice. "You insist that you are a wretched, lowly creature, deserving of nothing. Therefore, I shall treat you as a wretched, lowly creature."