Stand and Deliver - Part 1/4little_elfieSeptember 24 2014, 01:56:00 UTC
Stand and Deliver
Part One
Paris, January 1762. Night falls early, cold and dark. With it comes fear. The poor are consumed by their fears and oh, they have so many. The instinctive fear of what lurks in the shadows, of freezing to death or starving...of hearing the howl of a hungry wolf on the doorstep.
And some wolves, the worst kind of all, walk on two feet...
The aristocracy do not understand. They have never suffered. The woes of the poor are a world away, out of sight and out of mind. Pull back the velvet shade of your carriage window and you need never see the beggars and their hollow-eyed brats, dying quietly - or violently - in plain view. The wolves do not discriminate. They prey upon the beggars readily but, given the opportunity, they much prefer to seek out richer pickings...
January, 1762. A wolf is hunting the noble lords and ladies of Paris. He prowls the great roads beyond the city walls, preying upon carriages and coaches, upon lone riders and small parties. No one has been hurt, not seriously at any rate. "He empties our purses and wounds our pride." The name of this illustrious wolfman, his alias, buzzes throughout the court, wet and writhing upon the lips of his victims.
The Hawk.
Not a wolf. A hawk.
Lady Agnes Guybertaut, only daughter of the Comte de Blois, thought the name fit him rather well. He really did look like a hawk, or some other great bird of prey...and she certainly felt like a helpless mouse under his sharp gaze, pressed into the corner of the coach, peering at the highwayman from over her father's shoulder.
Re: Stand and Deliver - Part 2/4little_elfieSeptember 24 2014, 01:57:29 UTC
Stand and Deliver
Part Two
"Stand and deliver!"
They had been travelling to Paris from their country estate, intending to stay at their townhouse for a month or two, to visit friends and family. Agnes was betrothed to a young rake, Phoebus de Châteaupers, and her mother was eager to begin preparations for their wedding, which would take place in May. They were discussing gowns and flowers when the cry had echoed out and their coach had jerked to an abrupt halt, the horses rearing and snorting in fright. The Comte, blustering and puffing, pushed his wife and daughter behind him as the door to his right was opened from the outside.
"What is the meaning of this? I demand that you let us pass! Valcour, drive on!"
The Hawk sat his horse like a nobleman, one hand on the reins and the other aiming a pistol into the coach. He was tall and slender, impeccably dressed...and his eyes...Agnes shivered as his gaze devoured her, fierce and dark, more terrifying than the pistol or anything she had ever encountered in her life. It was horrible and thrilling. He spoke, tearing his eyes away from Agnes as he addressed her father, his voice slightly muffled by the silk kerchief which covered his nose, mouth and jaw.
"I'm afraid that your driver is indisposed, my lord."
"You've killed him?"
"No, not at all. My associate is taking good care of him, at my request, whilst you and I attend to a little business."
Agnes thought he was smirking beneath that kerchief. A hot flush of rage coloured her face - How dare he? Beast!
"We have no business with the likes of you."
The words left her mouth before she could bite them back. The Comte's shoulders stiffened. His wife was praying, fingers clenching convulsively at their daughter's wrist. The Hawk only arched an eyebrow at Agnes, chuckling sardonically as she glowered at him.
"Allow me to disagree, my lady. Now..."
The pistol was cocked. The sound was deafening in the still of the night. Agnes winced as her mother's nails scored the delicate flesh of her inner wrist.
"Empty your purses and hand over your jewellery, if you please."
The Hawk's accomplice had appeared, a disfigured wretch with an apologetic grin. He was holding a burlap sack, into which they relinquished their valuables. The task complete, he disappeared into the shadows once again.
"If that is all..."
The Comte's jowls quivered with indignation as their assailant interrupted him.
"I'm afraid not, my lord. Your daughter..." Agnes instinctively shrank away as the highwayman held out a gloved hand to her, sly amusement creeping into his voice once again. Her father was blustering again and her mother was weeping, to no avail. The Hawk address Agnes directly, ignoring her parents, "You must come with me. I will hold you for two hours before releasing you, to ensure that your father does not raise the hue and cry when he arrives at the city gates. It has been a trying night and I would appreciate a respite from being hunted, at least until tomorrow."
The Comte bellowed.
His wife sobbed.
Agnes raised her chin, schooling her face into a mask of cool disdain. She wanted to knock him off his horse.
She took his hand instead. He lifted her onto the saddle before him and, after tipping his jaunty tricorne at her stunned parents, rode off into the night
Stand and Deliver - Part 3/4little_elfieSeptember 24 2014, 02:55:14 UTC
Stand and Deliver
Part Three
They rode in silence, the highwayman and his hostage, his accomplice and their spoils.
Agnes was shivering. It was cold and she was afraid. The Hawk slowed the horse they shared, releasing the reins for a moment in order to sweep his cloak around her shoulders, pulling her against him. They rode on for a little while before she found her voice.
"Are you taking me to your lair?"
He laughed, "I am not a fool, my lady. Given the opportunity, you would bring every soldier in Paris to my door within an hour of your release."
"I would," Agnes agreed vehemently, "I would come to see you hang and laugh when the trapdoor opened beneath your feet."
"I believe you."
They dismounted within a small copse of tree. The Hawk swept Agnes from the saddle and carried her into the clearing, where the hunchbacked man was building a fire. Agnes huddled beside the flames miserably, eyeing her captors as they saw to their mounts and began to divide the night's takings into small parcels upon their persons and within the saddlebags. A handful of her friends and acquaintances had also been victims of this man but, to her knowledge, not one of them had been abducted by him, as she had.
Why? Why me?
She forced herself to ask the question when he finally came to rest by side, the firelight illuminating his severe features. He was not a handsome man, or a young one. His hair was grey, his face sharply contoured. Nothing like Phoebus, that golden lion of a man. But...he smiled when she questioned his motives and she saw the beauty in his face. A savage and cruel sort of beauty, like that of a bird of prey.
"Why did you take me? You've never taken a hostage before and, besides, you know my father will seek revenge. The soldiers are probably out there already, searching for me...and for you."
"Certainly. Your father is not a wise man, I fear. But you..." Agnes flinched as he reached out to run a finger across her cheek, her lips. He smiled again, "You are the most precious jewel I have ever had the pleasure of purloining, my dear. Those eyes of yours...like the finest emeralds. Esmeralda."
"You promised to set me free."
"You're free now, here with me. You've never been free until now...and you will never be free again, once you are home, once you are married."
His words resonated within her, into that deep place of yearning in her heart. She struggled for a moment, fighting him, fighting herself...but his hands were at her breasts, his lips at her throat...she was free, for the first time in her life.
"You're not free. You're mine. From now until the end of time, you're mine."
Eyes blazing with sudden fury, Agnes slipped from his grasp, panting harshly as she scrambled away. He smirked at her distress. The remainder of her time in his company was spent in sullen silence and, when he finally released her with a sardonic bow, she only scowled and demanded a pistol.
"Do you mean to execute me?"
"I would not feel safe on the road without a weapon," Agnes retorted.
"You are a pistol, my lady. Woe betide the villains of the road if they happen across you in the dark tonight."
But he handed over the pistol anyway, catching her by the elbows when she reached out to take it. She writhed and kicked, cursing as he pulled her into a fierce embrace and pressed a kiss against her temple.
Stand and Deliver - Part 4/4little_elfieSeptember 24 2014, 04:11:39 UTC
Stand and Deliver
Part Four
The next few months passed in a blur for Agnes. The ranks of the aristocracy buzzed with gossip following her escapade with the infamous highwayman. She was besieged at every function, her friends clamouring to hear the story again and again. Phoebus and her father were furious, vowing to see the Hawk hanged for his insolence. Her mother thrived upon the attention, embellishing the tale with little horrors for the delight of her peers. Agnes floated through February and March in a daze, remembering the highwayman's voice as he whispered in her ear...
"You're mine."
April. Spring in Paris. The King was holding a masquerade ball at the Palais de Louvre. Agnes and her friends talked for hours over tea and cards in the weeks beforehand, discussing their costumes excitedly. The entire court would be there, their faces covered with ornate masks until midnight, when the music and dancing would come to a brief cessation and the King would cry out, "Unmask!"
It was a perfect evening. A light breeze, warm and fragrant, drifted through the city as Agnes, dressed as a gypsy queen, arrived at the Palais de Louvre. She would be much admired tonight - an enchantress in a daring gown of red silk, a star-spangled veil across her face, gems caught in her ebony curls. Phoebus held her arm as they were announced, looking dashing in his golden armour and a visor-like mask. Her parents were here somewhere, along with her friends and everyone else they knew, in disguise. Agnes was happy to mingle, sipping wine and trying to spot her peers amongst the crowd. It became rather stifling within an hour, no matter how frantically she fanned herself. She slipped into the gardens...and stepped into the path of a man in the costume and wig of a judge, a stern-featured mask held over his face.
"Pardon me, sir."
"With pleasure, Esmeralda."
Agnes gasped at the sound of that voice. It was the Hawk. He was here. She grabbed his arm, dragging him into the shadows. He allowed himself to be tugged along behind her, chuckling as she hissed at him, in fury and terror. He dropped his mask. He was grinning.
"What are you doing here? You could be caught at any moment!"
"Why, Esmeralda..." Agnes pressed a hand to his mouth, trying to silence him. He wriggled away, laughing, "I could almost believe that you care for me."
She was glad for the veil. He couldn't see the flush rising over her face.
"What are you doing here, Hawk?"
"Claude. My name is Claude. And to answer your question, I have just pulled off the greatest heist in history, my love."
Agnes gaped at him until he smirked and pulled aside his robes to reveal a bulging sack of treasures at his belt. She couldn't believe it. He had robbed the Palais!
"Quasimodo is waiting for me beyond the walls. He has the horses. Three horses."
She caught his meaning and her heart skipped a beat. Did she dare? She swallowed, choosing to push the idea to the back of her mind for the moment. There were more pressing matters just now...
"How are you going to escape? You can't mean to climb the walls?"
"Of course not. There's soldiers posted along the entire perimeter. I came in through the front door and I intend to leave the same way. It's a little more risky now, with the goods on my person, but I have a plan."
"Good luck with that."
"I don't need luck..." Claude smirked, grasping Agnes by the hips until she was pressed against him, "I need you. I need you to smuggle me out under those lovely skirts of yours, Esmeralda."
Agnes pulled away, eyes flashing, "You're mad! I won't do it!"
He reached out, tugged her veil aside, kissed her hard on the lips until she was gasping for breath and then...and then...
And then her legs were around him, her back was to the wall, he was between her thighs and then inside of her, with one thrust. Agnes cried out and he kissed her, muffling the sound. She pounded on his shoulders with her fists, whimpering as he fucked her, fucked her hard until they came together, bittersweet and strange and wonderful...
Claude lowered her to the ground gently, holding her close as she trembled, unstable in the wake of their passion. He kissed her again.
Re: Stand and Deliver - Part 4/4afterandalasiaSeptember 30 2014, 20:56:05 UTC
*bows* I always love your Fresme stuff, you know that. The fire of your Esmeralda is particularly marvellous here - I should have known that she'd have her own pistol to pull on Frollo.
Part One
Paris, January 1762. Night falls early, cold and dark. With it comes fear. The poor are consumed by their fears and oh, they have so many. The instinctive fear of what lurks in the shadows, of freezing to death or starving...of hearing the howl of a hungry wolf on the doorstep.
And some wolves, the worst kind of all, walk on two feet...
The aristocracy do not understand. They have never suffered. The woes of the poor are a world away, out of sight and out of mind. Pull back the velvet shade of your carriage window and you need never see the beggars and their hollow-eyed brats, dying quietly - or violently - in plain view. The wolves do not discriminate. They prey upon the beggars readily but, given the opportunity, they much prefer to seek out richer pickings...
January, 1762. A wolf is hunting the noble lords and ladies of Paris. He prowls the great roads beyond the city walls, preying upon carriages and coaches, upon lone riders and small parties. No one has been hurt, not seriously at any rate. "He empties our purses and wounds our pride." The name of this illustrious wolfman, his alias, buzzes throughout the court, wet and writhing upon the lips of his victims.
The Hawk.
Not a wolf. A hawk.
Lady Agnes Guybertaut, only daughter of the Comte de Blois, thought the name fit him rather well. He really did look like a hawk, or some other great bird of prey...and she certainly felt like a helpless mouse under his sharp gaze, pressed into the corner of the coach, peering at the highwayman from over her father's shoulder.
"Stand and deliver!"
Reply
Part Two
"Stand and deliver!"
They had been travelling to Paris from their country estate, intending to stay at their townhouse for a month or two, to visit friends and family. Agnes was betrothed to a young rake, Phoebus de Châteaupers, and her mother was eager to begin preparations for their wedding, which would take place in May. They were discussing gowns and flowers when the cry had echoed out and their coach had jerked to an abrupt halt, the horses rearing and snorting in fright. The Comte, blustering and puffing, pushed his wife and daughter behind him as the door to his right was opened from the outside.
"What is the meaning of this? I demand that you let us pass! Valcour, drive on!"
The Hawk sat his horse like a nobleman, one hand on the reins and the other aiming a pistol into the coach. He was tall and slender, impeccably dressed...and his eyes...Agnes shivered as his gaze devoured her, fierce and dark, more terrifying than the pistol or anything she had ever encountered in her life. It was horrible and thrilling. He spoke, tearing his eyes away from Agnes as he addressed her father, his voice slightly muffled by the silk kerchief which covered his nose, mouth and jaw.
"I'm afraid that your driver is indisposed, my lord."
"You've killed him?"
"No, not at all. My associate is taking good care of him, at my request, whilst you and I attend to a little business."
Agnes thought he was smirking beneath that kerchief. A hot flush of rage coloured her face - How dare he? Beast!
"We have no business with the likes of you."
The words left her mouth before she could bite them back. The Comte's shoulders stiffened. His wife was praying, fingers clenching convulsively at their daughter's wrist. The Hawk only arched an eyebrow at Agnes, chuckling sardonically as she glowered at him.
"Allow me to disagree, my lady. Now..."
The pistol was cocked. The sound was deafening in the still of the night. Agnes winced as her mother's nails scored the delicate flesh of her inner wrist.
"Empty your purses and hand over your jewellery, if you please."
The Hawk's accomplice had appeared, a disfigured wretch with an apologetic grin. He was holding a burlap sack, into which they relinquished their valuables. The task complete, he disappeared into the shadows once again.
"If that is all..."
The Comte's jowls quivered with indignation as their assailant interrupted him.
"I'm afraid not, my lord. Your daughter..." Agnes instinctively shrank away as the highwayman held out a gloved hand to her, sly amusement creeping into his voice once again. Her father was blustering again and her mother was weeping, to no avail. The Hawk address Agnes directly, ignoring her parents, "You must come with me. I will hold you for two hours before releasing you, to ensure that your father does not raise the hue and cry when he arrives at the city gates. It has been a trying night and I would appreciate a respite from being hunted, at least until tomorrow."
The Comte bellowed.
His wife sobbed.
Agnes raised her chin, schooling her face into a mask of cool disdain. She wanted to knock him off his horse.
She took his hand instead. He lifted her onto the saddle before him and, after tipping his jaunty tricorne at her stunned parents, rode off into the night
Reply
Part Three
They rode in silence, the highwayman and his hostage, his accomplice and their spoils.
Agnes was shivering. It was cold and she was afraid. The Hawk slowed the horse they shared, releasing the reins for a moment in order to sweep his cloak around her shoulders, pulling her against him. They rode on for a little while before she found her voice.
"Are you taking me to your lair?"
He laughed, "I am not a fool, my lady. Given the opportunity, you would bring every soldier in Paris to my door within an hour of your release."
"I would," Agnes agreed vehemently, "I would come to see you hang and laugh when the trapdoor opened beneath your feet."
"I believe you."
They dismounted within a small copse of tree. The Hawk swept Agnes from the saddle and carried her into the clearing, where the hunchbacked man was building a fire. Agnes huddled beside the flames miserably, eyeing her captors as they saw to their mounts and began to divide the night's takings into small parcels upon their persons and within the saddlebags. A handful of her friends and acquaintances had also been victims of this man but, to her knowledge, not one of them had been abducted by him, as she had.
Why? Why me?
She forced herself to ask the question when he finally came to rest by side, the firelight illuminating his severe features. He was not a handsome man, or a young one. His hair was grey, his face sharply contoured. Nothing like Phoebus, that golden lion of a man. But...he smiled when she questioned his motives and she saw the beauty in his face. A savage and cruel sort of beauty, like that of a bird of prey.
"Why did you take me? You've never taken a hostage before and, besides, you know my father will seek revenge. The soldiers are probably out there already, searching for me...and for you."
"Certainly. Your father is not a wise man, I fear. But you..." Agnes flinched as he reached out to run a finger across her cheek, her lips. He smiled again, "You are the most precious jewel I have ever had the pleasure of purloining, my dear. Those eyes of yours...like the finest emeralds. Esmeralda."
"You promised to set me free."
"You're free now, here with me. You've never been free until now...and you will never be free again, once you are home, once you are married."
His words resonated within her, into that deep place of yearning in her heart. She struggled for a moment, fighting him, fighting herself...but his hands were at her breasts, his lips at her throat...she was free, for the first time in her life.
"You're not free. You're mine. From now until the end of time, you're mine."
Eyes blazing with sudden fury, Agnes slipped from his grasp, panting harshly as she scrambled away. He smirked at her distress. The remainder of her time in his company was spent in sullen silence and, when he finally released her with a sardonic bow, she only scowled and demanded a pistol.
"Do you mean to execute me?"
"I would not feel safe on the road without a weapon," Agnes retorted.
"You are a pistol, my lady. Woe betide the villains of the road if they happen across you in the dark tonight."
But he handed over the pistol anyway, catching her by the elbows when she reached out to take it. She writhed and kicked, cursing as he pulled her into a fierce embrace and pressed a kiss against her temple.
"Until we meet again, Esmeralda."
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Part Four
The next few months passed in a blur for Agnes. The ranks of the aristocracy buzzed with gossip following her escapade with the infamous highwayman. She was besieged at every function, her friends clamouring to hear the story again and again. Phoebus and her father were furious, vowing to see the Hawk hanged for his insolence. Her mother thrived upon the attention, embellishing the tale with little horrors for the delight of her peers. Agnes floated through February and March in a daze, remembering the highwayman's voice as he whispered in her ear...
"You're mine."
April. Spring in Paris. The King was holding a masquerade ball at the Palais de Louvre. Agnes and her friends talked for hours over tea and cards in the weeks beforehand, discussing their costumes excitedly. The entire court would be there, their faces covered with ornate masks until midnight, when the music and dancing would come to a brief cessation and the King would cry out, "Unmask!"
It was a perfect evening. A light breeze, warm and fragrant, drifted through the city as Agnes, dressed as a gypsy queen, arrived at the Palais de Louvre. She would be much admired tonight - an enchantress in a daring gown of red silk, a star-spangled veil across her face, gems caught in her ebony curls. Phoebus held her arm as they were announced, looking dashing in his golden armour and a visor-like mask. Her parents were here somewhere, along with her friends and everyone else they knew, in disguise. Agnes was happy to mingle, sipping wine and trying to spot her peers amongst the crowd. It became rather stifling within an hour, no matter how frantically she fanned herself. She slipped into the gardens...and stepped into the path of a man in the costume and wig of a judge, a stern-featured mask held over his face.
"Pardon me, sir."
"With pleasure, Esmeralda."
Agnes gasped at the sound of that voice. It was the Hawk. He was here. She grabbed his arm, dragging him into the shadows. He allowed himself to be tugged along behind her, chuckling as she hissed at him, in fury and terror. He dropped his mask. He was grinning.
"What are you doing here? You could be caught at any moment!"
"Why, Esmeralda..." Agnes pressed a hand to his mouth, trying to silence him. He wriggled away, laughing, "I could almost believe that you care for me."
She was glad for the veil. He couldn't see the flush rising over her face.
"What are you doing here, Hawk?"
"Claude. My name is Claude. And to answer your question, I have just pulled off the greatest heist in history, my love."
Agnes gaped at him until he smirked and pulled aside his robes to reveal a bulging sack of treasures at his belt. She couldn't believe it. He had robbed the Palais!
"Quasimodo is waiting for me beyond the walls. He has the horses. Three horses."
She caught his meaning and her heart skipped a beat. Did she dare? She swallowed, choosing to push the idea to the back of her mind for the moment. There were more pressing matters just now...
"How are you going to escape? You can't mean to climb the walls?"
"Of course not. There's soldiers posted along the entire perimeter. I came in through the front door and I intend to leave the same way. It's a little more risky now, with the goods on my person, but I have a plan."
"Good luck with that."
"I don't need luck..." Claude smirked, grasping Agnes by the hips until she was pressed against him, "I need you. I need you to smuggle me out under those lovely skirts of yours, Esmeralda."
Agnes pulled away, eyes flashing, "You're mad! I won't do it!"
He reached out, tugged her veil aside, kissed her hard on the lips until she was gasping for breath and then...and then...
And then her legs were around him, her back was to the wall, he was between her thighs and then inside of her, with one thrust. Agnes cried out and he kissed her, muffling the sound. She pounded on his shoulders with her fists, whimpering as he fucked her, fucked her hard until they came together, bittersweet and strange and wonderful...
Claude lowered her to the ground gently, holding her close as she trembled, unstable in the wake of their passion. He kissed her again.
"You will."
And she did.
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