THE FURY of PRINCE SHEVAK
Being Part 2 of the Chronicles of the Silver River
Prince Shevak sighed as he emerged from the Forest of Draen above his home city of Heidraen. Ever since he’d been a small boy he’d loved this view; the towering majesty of the Jedakk Mountain, dwarfing Mt Zeke in front of it; the Silver River winding down from Ystragarth to Heidraen, and then onwards through the vineyards beyond Heidraen. Heidraen itself looked delightful from up here, even the castle looked attractive, with its commanding view over both the city and the river and roads approaching it.
He got down off his horse, leaving it munching happily on the lush grass up here, and surveyed the scenery. The boats with their cargoes of such as silver, timber, and coal heading downstream; other boats with imported goods, including slaves heading upstream.
There wasn’t much to disturb the tranquillity of the scene. It was a beautiful summer day, smoke from a few of Heidraen’s workshops, cookhouses, and smithies drifted vertically into the still air. The clang of some sword practice in the courtyard of Heidraen castle. To his right, just discernable, he could hear the beat of a hammer, the distant sound of a scream. He cocked his head to hear better – was it a woman screaming? But just then some nearby finches began squabbling about something, and he lost the sound. Not that it was of much interest; slaves needed to be kept in their place, and the cross was an excellent way of doing so.
He sat down on the grass, his thoughts turning to more pleasant things. He’d just had what was unquestionably the best twenty-four hours of his life, naked, in and around his father’s hunting lodge. Naked with Tara. He had never known anyone like Tara! The joy she took from making love, her stamina, her skill. As a Royal Prince, Shevak had more experience than most, but he had to admit that he’d learned tricks over this past few hours that he hadn’t dreamed of previously. How his tongue had found that special place in her warm, moist, vagina, disregarding the taste of his own cum as he had stimulated her to the most explosive orgasm that he had ever seen in a woman. He smiled as he remembered the sound of her voice as the waves of pleasure had swept over her, the feel of her pulsing pelvic organs, and of her juices as they squirted into his face – he hadn’t realised that women did squirt until that moment!
And she’d told him that it was the best she ever had, then rewarded him a few minutes later with some long, slow, deeply loving sex that had brought them both to orgasm within seconds of each other – another first for Shevak!
Not only was she without equal as a sexual partner, but she was wonderful just to be around, funny, vivacious, incredibly pretty. He knew he loved her; he didn’t just desire her, sexually, he really loved her with every fibre of his body, down to the very depths of his soul. He just could not imagine being with anyone else.
So he was truly happy as he sat there, looking up at the top of Mount Jedakk and thanking the gods who lived there for his incredible good fortune. And as he sat there, the boy who had become a man and the Prince who had become a slave; now the Warrior became a Poet:
How deep with love your blue eyes shine
My love! My words cannot define
My joy that you are truly mine
Both now, and ever after!
Your beauty and your elfen grace
The laughter in your lovely face
Near you is now my only place
My darling Taranthala!
He smiled – not bad for a first attempt. He couldn’t wait to share it with her!
He lay back in the grass, looking up at the sky, watching a circling lark giving voice to her own joy, and luxuriated in the deepest contentment he had ever known. He began to try to set a tune to his new poem….
What seemed like a moment later, the sun had moved a fair way across the sky. While he’d spent a great deal of time in bed the previous day, he’d had very little sleep, and now he had dozed the morning and some of the afternoon away. He sat up with a start. He remembered that the King and Queen of Aestrador were coming for a state banquet this evening, and that he was expected to be there.
Not only the King and Queen, but Princess Blaire, his fiancé. A cloud passed in front of the sun as his own mood darkened at the thought of her. When he had first seen her he had been delighted, she was slim, auburn-haired, fit and athletic. A lovely looking woman by anybody’s standards. But as he’d tried to get to know her it had rapidly become all too clear that this was not going to be a match made in heaven. Firstly, she spent her every waking moment racing horses. To Shevak, a horse was just a means of getting from A to B; he appreciated a good horse, indeed a good horse was an absolute necessity in battle, but to lavish the love upon them that Blaire lavished on her horses seemed to him strange. But secondly, and more importantly, she shrank away from his slightest touch. Shevak was, at least in his own opinion (and now, obviously, Tara’s), pretty good looking, and all his life very pretty girls had practically thrown themselves at him. But Blaire made it very obvious that she did not consider him in the least bit attractive. He’d smiled, as he remembered telling his servant, Paul, how she’d even seemed to prefer the women in the room to him! Absurd!
But now he’d met Taranthala he was completely determined. He would marry Tara, and there was no way he was going to marry that frigid woman from Aestrador.
Tomorrow, he would have it out with his father.
His horse had only strayed a hundred yards or so, and it came over quickly when he called it, so within half an hour or so he was riding into the castle forecourts. He handed the reins to a stable slave, and walked in to the castle itself. His absence had given no cause for alarm, all were quite used to his extended hunting trips and he would not have been missed unless he had been late for the banquet tonight.
He made his way up to his chambers where Paul, his servant, was engaged in preparing his costume for the evening.
“Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness,” said Paul, bowing.
Though he was called a ‘servant’, Paul received no salary; though he was clothed, and fed, and sheltered, he was in fact a slave, a chattel of the Royal Household. He had been taken prisoner some years ago from a far-off land called ‘Britannia’, when the Aestrians had accompanied the Vikings on a raid. Paul had been a Lay-Brother in a monastery near the coast, as such he was educated but did not appear suited to hard manual labour. Paul counted himself fortunate to have ended up as a castle servant rather than ending his life very early in the dreaded mines of Solithage or Ystragarth.
“Hi Paul,” said Shevak, off-handedly. “I need a bath, some food, and a stiff drink, though not necessarily in that order.”
“Very good, sir. I am given to understand that the Pinot Noir from the Silver vineyards that was produced the year before last is exceptionally delicious. However, I have considered the contingency that you might prefer something of a more, ah, ‘spiritual’ nature, and I have to hand here a decanter of Maregram’s Whisky?” The Maregram’s refinery, near Aestmark on the Low Road to Aestrador was famed for the quality of its whisky, about the only thing upon which all four Royal Houses agreed.
“Whisky and soda, please, Paul, and easy on the soda. I have to face Princess Blaire this evening and I need all the help I can get!”
“Indeed, sir.” Paul looked sympathetic as he produced the drink for Shevak. Utterly discreet, to the extent that they called him ‘Quiet’ Paul, Shevak had no secrets from Paul, and he was perfectly well aware how Prince Shevak felt about the Princess of Aestrador.
“How can they expect me to marry that woman?” flared Shevak, “I might a well try and fuck a block of ice in the cold store! I’d certainly enjoy it more!”
“While I might not have expressed it in precisely those terms, sir, the lady does appear to remain somewhat distant.”
“I wish she was more distant, Paul, and permanently so!”
Paul thought it advisable to change the subject. “How did you enjoy your,” he coughed, “your ‘hunting’, sir?”
“Oh, Paul, it was bloody fantastic, Tara…..unbelievable, she is, Paul! We had the fuck of the century!”
Behind him, Paul rolled his eyes. Fond though he was of his young master, his upbringing in a strict monastery had never prepared him for such frankness nor for such coarseness, and he had never got used to it.
“Sir, I would counsel caution, if you’ll forgive me. Should His Majesty ever become acquainted with your fondness for Princess Taranthala, the consequences might be….unfortunate.”
“Well, he’s got to find out sooner or later, I am NOT going to marry Blaire, I AM going to marry Tara. In fact, I am going to go and find him right now!” Shevak stood up and started towards the door.
“Sir! His Majesty is already with King Xsordon! He gave the strictest instructions that he was not to be interrupted. It would scarcely be wise to disturb them both with news that neither will find welcome!”
“Thank you, Paul, you are right, as usual. I will bide my time.”
So it was that a couple of hours later, Shevak found himself seated between Blaire and her mother. Despite his(and Blaires) herculean efforts to steer the conversation onto safer ground, all Penelope wanted to talk about was the wedding; who she was inviting, whether she should invite those ghastly people from Solithage, but of course, her Sister Barbaria simply must come, it was scarcely her fault that she’d been made to marry that horrible Hengentre…and what about her lovely daughters, Roxie and Tara, oh, my dear, they absolutely must be bridesmaids.
There was an awkward silence as both Blaire and Shevak considered the irony of their lover being a bridesmaid at their wedding.
Sciuridan leaned forward, and, speaking with a mouth full of pheasant, said, “What was that, Penny? Roxie and Tara as bridesmaids?” He grinned, lasciviously, “Bloody good idea!”
Queen Messaline elbowed him, “Language, dear! We are in company!”
“My love, I was just thinking of Hengentre’s face when his daughters are bridesmaids at a wedding that will put that upstart in his place once and for all! Ha!”
Then he returned to his plotting with Xsordon. Shevak watched them with distaste. Who knew what they were cooking up?
He turned to Blaire. “You OK?”
“Yes.”
“Looking forward to the wedding?” He thought he’d better keep up the act, for now at least.
“No.”
“No? What will you mother say?”
“Sod my mother.”
He gazed at her. By Jedakk, she looked lovely. If only she would unfreeze, he could love her. Then he remembered Tara, and that he never could love Blaire.
“You love someone else?” he ventured.
“Yes.”
This was hard work. “Well, who?”
“Piss off, it’s none of your business.”
Shevak was thoroughly unused to being told to ‘piss off’ and for a moment, a red mist descended, and he thought he might hit her. With an effort he regained his composure.
“We can’t discuss this now, your mother will hear.”
He turned to look at Queen Penelope. She was gazing at them, her penetrating eyes met his. He shifted uncomfortably. Some said she was a sorceress. At that moment, he could believe it.
After the meal, there was dancing. Because they were forced to, he and Blaire danced together. “Look, Blaire”, said Shevak, “You love someone else, I love someone else…”
“You love Tara.” She said.
“Wha…wha…HOW the hell did you know that?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Shevak! Do you think I’m stupid AND blind? She was all over you like a rash at the Spring ball, and I could easily tell where you were by following the trail your tongue left on the floor!”
Shevak thought “I hope it wasn’t that obvious to Dad,” then he said, “OK. OK, I love Tara, you love Mr Mysterious – but if it’s Naraku, I will kill you AND him.”
“I don’t love your brother any more than I love you.”
“Fair enough. We have a choice. We can go through with it, to keep the parents happy, or we can tell them where to put their wedding.”
“I’m sorry, Shevak. If I married you I’d have to have your babies, and…..I just couldn’t.”
“All right. Listen. Tomorrow morning, I see my Father and tell him it’s off. You do the same with yours and…sorted!”
She bit her lip. “Sorted? Are you mad? A whole treaty depends on our marriage!”
“Yeah, well, your father’s got more to lose. You’re his only daughter. My Fathers got me, Naraku, and Marcie. And you can’t marry Marcie, you can’t marry Roxie, and you can’t marry Tara. You can marry into Solithage if you like, I suppose. Fancy Thommorr or Hifelis?”
At which she kicked him, hard, in the shin, and stormed off.
He slept badly, that night. Partly, he was dreaming of Tara. Partly, he was running through his impending interview with his father. But mainly, his shin hurt.
“Leave us!” rapped Sciuridan, waving his hand at his court, as his son approached him.
With the usual bowing and scraping, the court withdrew.
“Well, Shevak, how was your…..hunting…..yesterday?”
“Fine thank you, Father, I thought I had a deer, but some noise startled it, and it got away.”
“DON’T LIE TO ME, BOY!” thundered Sciuridan, “You were with some slut in MY lodge!”
Shevak was stunned that he had guessed. He opened his mouth to speak.
“Don’t interrupt!” stormed Sciuridan. “You’ve been seen. Three times. Do you think I rule this kingdom by sitting here day-dreaming? I have people that are paid to tell me what goes on. If you thought you could carry on some sordid affair under my very nose, then you are more stupid than I thought! You can have any whore you like in Heidraen, but this was some money-grabbing bint from Ystragarth, at least, that’s where she was followed to!”
“But…..” said Shevak. This wasn’t exactly going the way that he’d planned.
His father ranted on for a few minutes about “Loyalty” and “Responsibility” and “setting an example”
Eventually, Shevak interrupted the flow. He’d heard enough of this, and, he shouted
“I AM GOING TO MARRY HER AND THERE IS NOTHINGYOU CAN DO TO STOP ME!”
Sciuridan stood up.
“Like fuck you are, Shevak. Not unless your tastes extend to necrophilia. She’s dead.”
Shevak reeled. He collapsed back into a chair. “Dead?”
“Too right she’s dead. I’ll teach you to try and double cross me. I had her ambushed and crucified yesterday.”
Shevak remembered the distant hammer beat, the distant screams. The awful, horrifying truth of what his father was saying swept over him. He was overwhelmed by the sheer brutality of it. How could they have crucified that lovely girl? How DARE they crucify that lovely girl? Grief, shock, and white-hot fury swept over him.
“You…..crucified……Taranthala?”
“Yes I did have her crucified and now I’m going to march you out to show you what will happen to any other slut you try and………” his voice trailed off.
“Did you say ‘Taranthala’?”
“I said ‘Taranthala’”
“THE Taranthala? Princess of Ystragarth?”
“Yes”
“Oh…………………….FUCK!” said Sciuridan.
Being Part 2 of the Chronicles of the Silver River
Prince Shevak sighed as he emerged from the Forest of Draen above his home city of Heidraen. Ever since he’d been a small boy he’d loved this view; the towering majesty of the Jedakk Mountain, dwarfing Mt Zeke in front of it; the Silver River winding down from Ystragarth to Heidraen, and then onwards through the vineyards beyond Heidraen. Heidraen itself looked delightful from up here, even the castle looked attractive, with its commanding view over both the city and the river and roads approaching it.
He got down off his horse, leaving it munching happily on the lush grass up here, and surveyed the scenery. The boats with their cargoes of such as silver, timber, and coal heading downstream; other boats with imported goods, including slaves heading upstream.
There wasn’t much to disturb the tranquillity of the scene. It was a beautiful summer day, smoke from a few of Heidraen’s workshops, cookhouses, and smithies drifted vertically into the still air. The clang of some sword practice in the courtyard of Heidraen castle. To his right, just discernable, he could hear the beat of a hammer, the distant sound of a scream. He cocked his head to hear better – was it a woman screaming? But just then some nearby finches began squabbling about something, and he lost the sound. Not that it was of much interest; slaves needed to be kept in their place, and the cross was an excellent way of doing so.
He sat down on the grass, his thoughts turning to more pleasant things. He’d just had what was unquestionably the best twenty-four hours of his life, naked, in and around his father’s hunting lodge. Naked with Tara. He had never known anyone like Tara! The joy she took from making love, her stamina, her skill. As a Royal Prince, Shevak had more experience than most, but he had to admit that he’d learned tricks over this past few hours that he hadn’t dreamed of previously. How his tongue had found that special place in her warm, moist, vagina, disregarding the taste of his own cum as he had stimulated her to the most explosive orgasm that he had ever seen in a woman. He smiled as he remembered the sound of her voice as the waves of pleasure had swept over her, the feel of her pulsing pelvic organs, and of her juices as they squirted into his face – he hadn’t realised that women did squirt until that moment!
And she’d told him that it was the best she ever had, then rewarded him a few minutes later with some long, slow, deeply loving sex that had brought them both to orgasm within seconds of each other – another first for Shevak!
Not only was she without equal as a sexual partner, but she was wonderful just to be around, funny, vivacious, incredibly pretty. He knew he loved her; he didn’t just desire her, sexually, he really loved her with every fibre of his body, down to the very depths of his soul. He just could not imagine being with anyone else.
So he was truly happy as he sat there, looking up at the top of Mount Jedakk and thanking the gods who lived there for his incredible good fortune. And as he sat there, the boy who had become a man and the Prince who had become a slave; now the Warrior became a Poet:
How deep with love your blue eyes shine
My love! My words cannot define
My joy that you are truly mine
Both now, and ever after!
Your beauty and your elfen grace
The laughter in your lovely face
Near you is now my only place
My darling Taranthala!
He smiled – not bad for a first attempt. He couldn’t wait to share it with her!
He lay back in the grass, looking up at the sky, watching a circling lark giving voice to her own joy, and luxuriated in the deepest contentment he had ever known. He began to try to set a tune to his new poem….
What seemed like a moment later, the sun had moved a fair way across the sky. While he’d spent a great deal of time in bed the previous day, he’d had very little sleep, and now he had dozed the morning and some of the afternoon away. He sat up with a start. He remembered that the King and Queen of Aestrador were coming for a state banquet this evening, and that he was expected to be there.
Not only the King and Queen, but Princess Blaire, his fiancé. A cloud passed in front of the sun as his own mood darkened at the thought of her. When he had first seen her he had been delighted, she was slim, auburn-haired, fit and athletic. A lovely looking woman by anybody’s standards. But as he’d tried to get to know her it had rapidly become all too clear that this was not going to be a match made in heaven. Firstly, she spent her every waking moment racing horses. To Shevak, a horse was just a means of getting from A to B; he appreciated a good horse, indeed a good horse was an absolute necessity in battle, but to lavish the love upon them that Blaire lavished on her horses seemed to him strange. But secondly, and more importantly, she shrank away from his slightest touch. Shevak was, at least in his own opinion (and now, obviously, Tara’s), pretty good looking, and all his life very pretty girls had practically thrown themselves at him. But Blaire made it very obvious that she did not consider him in the least bit attractive. He’d smiled, as he remembered telling his servant, Paul, how she’d even seemed to prefer the women in the room to him! Absurd!
But now he’d met Taranthala he was completely determined. He would marry Tara, and there was no way he was going to marry that frigid woman from Aestrador.
Tomorrow, he would have it out with his father.
His horse had only strayed a hundred yards or so, and it came over quickly when he called it, so within half an hour or so he was riding into the castle forecourts. He handed the reins to a stable slave, and walked in to the castle itself. His absence had given no cause for alarm, all were quite used to his extended hunting trips and he would not have been missed unless he had been late for the banquet tonight.
He made his way up to his chambers where Paul, his servant, was engaged in preparing his costume for the evening.
“Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness,” said Paul, bowing.
Though he was called a ‘servant’, Paul received no salary; though he was clothed, and fed, and sheltered, he was in fact a slave, a chattel of the Royal Household. He had been taken prisoner some years ago from a far-off land called ‘Britannia’, when the Aestrians had accompanied the Vikings on a raid. Paul had been a Lay-Brother in a monastery near the coast, as such he was educated but did not appear suited to hard manual labour. Paul counted himself fortunate to have ended up as a castle servant rather than ending his life very early in the dreaded mines of Solithage or Ystragarth.
“Hi Paul,” said Shevak, off-handedly. “I need a bath, some food, and a stiff drink, though not necessarily in that order.”
“Very good, sir. I am given to understand that the Pinot Noir from the Silver vineyards that was produced the year before last is exceptionally delicious. However, I have considered the contingency that you might prefer something of a more, ah, ‘spiritual’ nature, and I have to hand here a decanter of Maregram’s Whisky?” The Maregram’s refinery, near Aestmark on the Low Road to Aestrador was famed for the quality of its whisky, about the only thing upon which all four Royal Houses agreed.
“Whisky and soda, please, Paul, and easy on the soda. I have to face Princess Blaire this evening and I need all the help I can get!”
“Indeed, sir.” Paul looked sympathetic as he produced the drink for Shevak. Utterly discreet, to the extent that they called him ‘Quiet’ Paul, Shevak had no secrets from Paul, and he was perfectly well aware how Prince Shevak felt about the Princess of Aestrador.
“How can they expect me to marry that woman?” flared Shevak, “I might a well try and fuck a block of ice in the cold store! I’d certainly enjoy it more!”
“While I might not have expressed it in precisely those terms, sir, the lady does appear to remain somewhat distant.”
“I wish she was more distant, Paul, and permanently so!”
Paul thought it advisable to change the subject. “How did you enjoy your,” he coughed, “your ‘hunting’, sir?”
“Oh, Paul, it was bloody fantastic, Tara…..unbelievable, she is, Paul! We had the fuck of the century!”
Behind him, Paul rolled his eyes. Fond though he was of his young master, his upbringing in a strict monastery had never prepared him for such frankness nor for such coarseness, and he had never got used to it.
“Sir, I would counsel caution, if you’ll forgive me. Should His Majesty ever become acquainted with your fondness for Princess Taranthala, the consequences might be….unfortunate.”
“Well, he’s got to find out sooner or later, I am NOT going to marry Blaire, I AM going to marry Tara. In fact, I am going to go and find him right now!” Shevak stood up and started towards the door.
“Sir! His Majesty is already with King Xsordon! He gave the strictest instructions that he was not to be interrupted. It would scarcely be wise to disturb them both with news that neither will find welcome!”
“Thank you, Paul, you are right, as usual. I will bide my time.”
So it was that a couple of hours later, Shevak found himself seated between Blaire and her mother. Despite his(and Blaires) herculean efforts to steer the conversation onto safer ground, all Penelope wanted to talk about was the wedding; who she was inviting, whether she should invite those ghastly people from Solithage, but of course, her Sister Barbaria simply must come, it was scarcely her fault that she’d been made to marry that horrible Hengentre…and what about her lovely daughters, Roxie and Tara, oh, my dear, they absolutely must be bridesmaids.
There was an awkward silence as both Blaire and Shevak considered the irony of their lover being a bridesmaid at their wedding.
Sciuridan leaned forward, and, speaking with a mouth full of pheasant, said, “What was that, Penny? Roxie and Tara as bridesmaids?” He grinned, lasciviously, “Bloody good idea!”
Queen Messaline elbowed him, “Language, dear! We are in company!”
“My love, I was just thinking of Hengentre’s face when his daughters are bridesmaids at a wedding that will put that upstart in his place once and for all! Ha!”
Then he returned to his plotting with Xsordon. Shevak watched them with distaste. Who knew what they were cooking up?
He turned to Blaire. “You OK?”
“Yes.”
“Looking forward to the wedding?” He thought he’d better keep up the act, for now at least.
“No.”
“No? What will you mother say?”
“Sod my mother.”
He gazed at her. By Jedakk, she looked lovely. If only she would unfreeze, he could love her. Then he remembered Tara, and that he never could love Blaire.
“You love someone else?” he ventured.
“Yes.”
This was hard work. “Well, who?”
“Piss off, it’s none of your business.”
Shevak was thoroughly unused to being told to ‘piss off’ and for a moment, a red mist descended, and he thought he might hit her. With an effort he regained his composure.
“We can’t discuss this now, your mother will hear.”
He turned to look at Queen Penelope. She was gazing at them, her penetrating eyes met his. He shifted uncomfortably. Some said she was a sorceress. At that moment, he could believe it.
After the meal, there was dancing. Because they were forced to, he and Blaire danced together. “Look, Blaire”, said Shevak, “You love someone else, I love someone else…”
“You love Tara.” She said.
“Wha…wha…HOW the hell did you know that?”
“Oh for fuck’s sake, Shevak! Do you think I’m stupid AND blind? She was all over you like a rash at the Spring ball, and I could easily tell where you were by following the trail your tongue left on the floor!”
Shevak thought “I hope it wasn’t that obvious to Dad,” then he said, “OK. OK, I love Tara, you love Mr Mysterious – but if it’s Naraku, I will kill you AND him.”
“I don’t love your brother any more than I love you.”
“Fair enough. We have a choice. We can go through with it, to keep the parents happy, or we can tell them where to put their wedding.”
“I’m sorry, Shevak. If I married you I’d have to have your babies, and…..I just couldn’t.”
“All right. Listen. Tomorrow morning, I see my Father and tell him it’s off. You do the same with yours and…sorted!”
She bit her lip. “Sorted? Are you mad? A whole treaty depends on our marriage!”
“Yeah, well, your father’s got more to lose. You’re his only daughter. My Fathers got me, Naraku, and Marcie. And you can’t marry Marcie, you can’t marry Roxie, and you can’t marry Tara. You can marry into Solithage if you like, I suppose. Fancy Thommorr or Hifelis?”
At which she kicked him, hard, in the shin, and stormed off.
He slept badly, that night. Partly, he was dreaming of Tara. Partly, he was running through his impending interview with his father. But mainly, his shin hurt.
“Leave us!” rapped Sciuridan, waving his hand at his court, as his son approached him.
With the usual bowing and scraping, the court withdrew.
“Well, Shevak, how was your…..hunting…..yesterday?”
“Fine thank you, Father, I thought I had a deer, but some noise startled it, and it got away.”
“DON’T LIE TO ME, BOY!” thundered Sciuridan, “You were with some slut in MY lodge!”
Shevak was stunned that he had guessed. He opened his mouth to speak.
“Don’t interrupt!” stormed Sciuridan. “You’ve been seen. Three times. Do you think I rule this kingdom by sitting here day-dreaming? I have people that are paid to tell me what goes on. If you thought you could carry on some sordid affair under my very nose, then you are more stupid than I thought! You can have any whore you like in Heidraen, but this was some money-grabbing bint from Ystragarth, at least, that’s where she was followed to!”
“But…..” said Shevak. This wasn’t exactly going the way that he’d planned.
His father ranted on for a few minutes about “Loyalty” and “Responsibility” and “setting an example”
Eventually, Shevak interrupted the flow. He’d heard enough of this, and, he shouted
“I AM GOING TO MARRY HER AND THERE IS NOTHINGYOU CAN DO TO STOP ME!”
Sciuridan stood up.
“Like fuck you are, Shevak. Not unless your tastes extend to necrophilia. She’s dead.”
Shevak reeled. He collapsed back into a chair. “Dead?”
“Too right she’s dead. I’ll teach you to try and double cross me. I had her ambushed and crucified yesterday.”
Shevak remembered the distant hammer beat, the distant screams. The awful, horrifying truth of what his father was saying swept over him. He was overwhelmed by the sheer brutality of it. How could they have crucified that lovely girl? How DARE they crucify that lovely girl? Grief, shock, and white-hot fury swept over him.
“You…..crucified……Taranthala?”
“Yes I did have her crucified and now I’m going to march you out to show you what will happen to any other slut you try and………” his voice trailed off.
“Did you say ‘Taranthala’?”
“I said ‘Taranthala’”
“THE Taranthala? Princess of Ystragarth?”
“Yes”
“Oh…………………….FUCK!” said Sciuridan.
This is amazing and where this is leading I can only guess but I know I am going to enjoy it!
I love the portrayal of Princess Blaire!
I don't really know what else to say to describe the quality of the work!
Not that I have ever actually experienced it. (or want to...
) Even still I can't wait for more! Thanks to Barb I'm chained to this desk so it's not like I have anything else to do....
(Owwww.....okay Mistress I'll stop antagonizing Wragg and get back to work...please stop flogging m....ahhhhh!!
I get the feeling we are heading for a proper Shakespearean, bloodsoaked tragedy here..... and I kind of like it....