Original Fiction: "Saved" (Bingo Card Fill)
Title: "Saved"
Prompt: "Nurse Back to Health" (Original Verse, Historical Fantasy)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2100
Warnings: None
(Bingo card from
origfic_bingo found here.)
...
Pierce stirred awake with a groan, hissing as pain and nausea assaulted him. The world spun and dipped around him giddily, swimming before him. Where am I? The thought seemed to thunder through his mind, but despite his best attempts the haze that permeated his thoughts was too thick to penetrate. He knew nothing but dizziness and pain and a deep sense of fear that threatened to overwhelm him, a fear that intensified at the sight of a veiled shape looming over him. His heart thudded in fear, but the sound of its sweet, high-pitched voice soon calmed his worries.
“You are awake!” The relief in the young woman’s voice was audible. “I shall tell her Highness straightaway!”
“Where… where am I?” he tried to ask, but before the words were out of his mouth, the world faded to black around him once more.
He couldn’t track the passage of time. Darkness had consumed him, it seemed, for sunlight never strayed within his sight; the only sounds he heard were the whispers of women, soft and sibilant. From time to time he felt a hand upon his brow or caressing his cheek, but even this faded into the all-encompassing void of his subconscious. When he at last roused to waking, it seemed as though a lifetime had passed since his last lucid thought.
“How do you feel?”
The voice was deep, seductive, sensual, a far cry from the high-pitched, girlish voices he had heard in his dreams. He forced his eyes open and struggled to focus, swallowing hard when he caught sight of the vision before him. A woman’s face loomed before him, skin golden-brown and glowing, eyes wide and almond-shaped, gleaming a startling shade of violet, raven hair tumbled in a silken fall over one shoulder. She was, in short, the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. Even as he gawked at her, a smile tugged at the corners of her full lips, and he felt his body warm in response.
“And so you live.” Her hand was soft upon his brow, fingers tenderly stroking the lock of dark brown hair that fell over his forehead. “You have been sick for many weeks, Ser Knight. My servants feared for your life, but I could sense the strength within you.” Her even white teeth gleamed in the candlelight. “I am glad to see that your will to survive remains strong.”
“Thank you.” He frowned at the croaking noise that came from his mouth in place of his voice. “I… have you any water?” With a compassionate noise, the woman reached for the jug beside his bed and poured out a glass of water, holding it to his lips. He drank at first with some difficulty, his tongue and lips leaden, but at last he was able to manage with her assistance. The water was cool and refreshing to his parched mouth and he drank greedily, but after a few moments she drew the cup away.
“Not too much, else you will make yourself sick,” she murmured in that compelling voice, and he bit back his complaints immediately, hypnotized by her large violet eyes. “Tell me - what do you remember?”
Pierce struggled with this command, wrestling with the shadowy shapes in his memory. There was so much missing, but he did his best to recount his most immediate memories. “I was in the woods,” he said at last, “setting out to return home after undertaking a quest of great importance for my father. He will want to know that I am here,” he added as an afterthought. “I am the crown prince of Ethion. He will be much grieved by my absence - ”
“Yes, yes, in time,” she shushed, laying a hand on his and squeezing it warmly. “But first you must continue. How did you come to be here?”
He was silent for a moment, searching his mind. “I became lost in the forest,” he replied hoarsely, “and then it began to snow. There were… wolves.” He shut his eyes momentarily, the sounds of the wolves’ eerie howling resonant in his ears. “My horse threw me and bolted, and then… then I was alone in the night.” Another heartbeat’s silence passed and then he shook his head. “That is all I remember,” he said at last.
“My men found you in the woods three weeks ago, delirious and half-frozen in the snow. I do not know how long you were out there, but we have done our best to tend to you. You are incredibly lucky that we reached you before the wolves did. They are relentless in the winter.” He shuddered at this final tidbit of information, but her warm caress soon comforted him.
“The Crown Prince of Ethion,” she mused, her gaze pensive. “Are you the one they call the ‘Blazing Sword’?”
He flushed at this, coughing in embarrassment. “Yes, I suppose I am. You may call me Pierce, my lady. Such trifling titles are unnecessary.” He stared into her benevolent face, and a stray comment from his dreams returned to him. “Are - are you the Princess? I heard the servants speaking of you.”
“Yes, that’s right,” she murmured in response. “I am Safira Victoire.”
His brow creased with a frown, for had thought that he knew the names of every royal in the Western Provinces, and yet her name was unfamiliar to him. His memory refused to cooperate when he tried to recall where his quest had taken him; he only knew that Ethion was his final destination. Was it possible that he had crossed into some tiny principality too insignificant to acknowledge? “Where am I, Highness? Please, I must know.”
Instead of answering, however, she stood, her hand still in his, and fixed him with a gaze that quelled his fears in an instant. “That is a tale for another day, my Prince.” She squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I will return in the morning, but in the meantime, I will send up some broth for your dinner. Afterwards, you must sleep. We will talk more when you have regained your strength.”
…
She was by his side every morning when he awoke, opening the heavy drapes to let in the sunlight before feeding him herself. The servants, it seemed, had all been dismissed; the Princess was taking over his care personally. She was patient and gentle, kind and sweet, quick to smooth his brow with a cool cloth when he grew feverish, to comfort him with soft words after a violent nightmare, to feed him more clear broth when he hungered. When it was clear that he could sit up without nausea, she would sit with him and read aloud, her voice transforming every ballad and tale into a melodic recitation.
Pierce came to crave her closeness, her intoxicating fragrance of honey-lilac and the warmth of his presence. There was a frisson of excitement in the pit of his stomach whenever she turned those strangely bewitching violet eyes upon him, and he became so lost in her that many days passed before he remembered the strange events that had brought him to her castle.
He and the Princess were taking a turn in her private gardens, an exquisite bower of sheltering trees and climbing vines that protected them for most of the hostility of the winter weather. Clad in furs and heavy coats, the couple strolled together down the stone path. They made a striking couple: Pierce, tall and stalwart, his shoulders still broad and his arms muscular despite his weeks of illness, and the woman beside him, lithe, elegant and graceful.
They had been walking for a quarter of an hour before Pierce paused to catch his breath, cursing silently at his frailty. “Do not be so hard on yourself, Pierce,” she murmured quietly, rubbing his back comfortingly. “You are much improved these past weeks.”
“But if I can barely walk for fifteen minutes, how will I manage to remain astride my horse? How will I wield my sword and lead my men into battle?” He shook his head darkly. “I am hopeless.”
“You have need of neither horse nor sword here, gentle Prince.”
“But I when I return home - ” He broke off, something indefinable in the woman’s face halting his words. “Princess… have you heard from my father? Do you know how my kingdom fares? Please, I am desperate for any news.”
She tugged at his hand. “Come with me,” she said tersely. “We must speak inside.”
With a rapidly beating heart, he followed her through the door and up the winding staircase that led to the guest room he occupied. The castle was quiet save for the servants quietly chatting as they went about their business. They were lost on Pierce, however, who could only focus on the mysterious woman before him and wonder what secrets she kept from him.
The Princess ushered him through the doors and shut them behind her. “Sit, Pierce,” she said softly, urging him onto the bed.
Pierce obeyed mechanically, palms sweaty as he waited for the news. “Tell me,” he pleaded once more. “Do not torture me with waiting. I must know what has happened.” He shut his eyes in anticipation of her response, and started in shock when he felt her soft lips touch his.
“Princess - ” he tried to object but she smothered his protests easily, sliding her tongue into his mouth. She was stronger than he expected, her slender hands holding him fast until at last he surrendered to her advances. He had wanted this from the moment he laid eyes on her, had dreamed of what she might taste like, and at last, finally, she was in his grasp. His hands closed around her waist and tugged her close, relishing the feel of her body against his. All too soon, she pulled away from him and fixed him with a captivating gaze.
“Pierce.” Her voice fairly throbbed with desire. “Do you truly want to leave me? I thought that you were happy here with me.”
He leaned in close, the tip of his aquiline nose bumping against hers. He was having trouble disengaging himself, especially when she was running her fingers through his hair and leaning in close. “I - I must,” he stammered, struggling to infuse his words with some form of authority and firmness. “I have to go, Princess. You know I must.”
She pulled back at his words, watching him with a strange glint in her eye. She was silent for a long moment before a predatory grin spread across her face, one that was markedly different from the sweet smiles she had given him before.
“No,” she said, and her voice was firmer this time, a touch colder, and it filled him with some strange mixture of fear, horror, and excitement. “I don’t think you will.” Her fingers moved imperceptibly and suddenly Pierce sagged back against the bed, his body weighed down with a strange, unnatural lassitude. His limbs felt heavy, leaden, and though he struggled to move himself, he found that it was all but impossible.
“Silly Prince,” she murmured, and this time her contempt was palpable. “Don’t you understand?” She gave a low, mocking laugh, teasingly running a finger over his lower lip. “You are home. You’re mine now. My very own little prince.”
Pierce hissed sharply as she ran a fingernail over his cheek, the tip biting into his skin. “So innocent and trusting,” she murmured, kneeling beside him on the bed. Her breasts pressed against his chest as she leaned in close, confining him with her presence. “Tell me that you’ll stay. Tell me that you’ll belong to me.”
“Princess,” he groaned, but it was in vain. His body was stirring to life beneath her, his cock hardening against his will. “Princess, please…” He bit back his words as she cupped him through the woolen fabric of his trousers, his voice dropping into a wordless whine in response. She released him all too soon, staring down at him unrepentantly.
“Say it,” she demanded through clenched teeth. He remained stubbornly silent, but she smirked nonetheless, not dissuaded from her goals in the slightest.
“You will say it, soon enough. You will beg me for any scrap of attention I can give, you’ll whimper for my love, and in the end, Prince Pierce, you’ll be little more than my pet, my wanton slut who will do anything for his Princess.” With that she stood, fingers trailing teasingly over his erection. “I’ll return tonight. Perhaps by then you will be more… amenable to my demands.”
In a swirl of skirts, she was gone and Pierce was left alone, immobilized, with nothing save his thoughts, fears, and dark desires.
Prompt: "Nurse Back to Health" (Original Verse, Historical Fantasy)
Rating: PG
Word Count: 2100
Warnings: None
(Bingo card from
origfic_bingo found here.)
...
Pierce stirred awake with a groan, hissing as pain and nausea assaulted him. The world spun and dipped around him giddily, swimming before him. Where am I? The thought seemed to thunder through his mind, but despite his best attempts the haze that permeated his thoughts was too thick to penetrate. He knew nothing but dizziness and pain and a deep sense of fear that threatened to overwhelm him, a fear that intensified at the sight of a veiled shape looming over him. His heart thudded in fear, but the sound of its sweet, high-pitched voice soon calmed his worries.
“You are awake!” The relief in the young woman’s voice was audible. “I shall tell her Highness straightaway!”
“Where… where am I?” he tried to ask, but before the words were out of his mouth, the world faded to black around him once more.
He couldn’t track the passage of time. Darkness had consumed him, it seemed, for sunlight never strayed within his sight; the only sounds he heard were the whispers of women, soft and sibilant. From time to time he felt a hand upon his brow or caressing his cheek, but even this faded into the all-encompassing void of his subconscious. When he at last roused to waking, it seemed as though a lifetime had passed since his last lucid thought.
“How do you feel?”
The voice was deep, seductive, sensual, a far cry from the high-pitched, girlish voices he had heard in his dreams. He forced his eyes open and struggled to focus, swallowing hard when he caught sight of the vision before him. A woman’s face loomed before him, skin golden-brown and glowing, eyes wide and almond-shaped, gleaming a startling shade of violet, raven hair tumbled in a silken fall over one shoulder. She was, in short, the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. Even as he gawked at her, a smile tugged at the corners of her full lips, and he felt his body warm in response.
“And so you live.” Her hand was soft upon his brow, fingers tenderly stroking the lock of dark brown hair that fell over his forehead. “You have been sick for many weeks, Ser Knight. My servants feared for your life, but I could sense the strength within you.” Her even white teeth gleamed in the candlelight. “I am glad to see that your will to survive remains strong.”
“Thank you.” He frowned at the croaking noise that came from his mouth in place of his voice. “I… have you any water?” With a compassionate noise, the woman reached for the jug beside his bed and poured out a glass of water, holding it to his lips. He drank at first with some difficulty, his tongue and lips leaden, but at last he was able to manage with her assistance. The water was cool and refreshing to his parched mouth and he drank greedily, but after a few moments she drew the cup away.
“Not too much, else you will make yourself sick,” she murmured in that compelling voice, and he bit back his complaints immediately, hypnotized by her large violet eyes. “Tell me - what do you remember?”
Pierce struggled with this command, wrestling with the shadowy shapes in his memory. There was so much missing, but he did his best to recount his most immediate memories. “I was in the woods,” he said at last, “setting out to return home after undertaking a quest of great importance for my father. He will want to know that I am here,” he added as an afterthought. “I am the crown prince of Ethion. He will be much grieved by my absence - ”
“Yes, yes, in time,” she shushed, laying a hand on his and squeezing it warmly. “But first you must continue. How did you come to be here?”
He was silent for a moment, searching his mind. “I became lost in the forest,” he replied hoarsely, “and then it began to snow. There were… wolves.” He shut his eyes momentarily, the sounds of the wolves’ eerie howling resonant in his ears. “My horse threw me and bolted, and then… then I was alone in the night.” Another heartbeat’s silence passed and then he shook his head. “That is all I remember,” he said at last.
“My men found you in the woods three weeks ago, delirious and half-frozen in the snow. I do not know how long you were out there, but we have done our best to tend to you. You are incredibly lucky that we reached you before the wolves did. They are relentless in the winter.” He shuddered at this final tidbit of information, but her warm caress soon comforted him.
“The Crown Prince of Ethion,” she mused, her gaze pensive. “Are you the one they call the ‘Blazing Sword’?”
He flushed at this, coughing in embarrassment. “Yes, I suppose I am. You may call me Pierce, my lady. Such trifling titles are unnecessary.” He stared into her benevolent face, and a stray comment from his dreams returned to him. “Are - are you the Princess? I heard the servants speaking of you.”
“Yes, that’s right,” she murmured in response. “I am Safira Victoire.”
His brow creased with a frown, for had thought that he knew the names of every royal in the Western Provinces, and yet her name was unfamiliar to him. His memory refused to cooperate when he tried to recall where his quest had taken him; he only knew that Ethion was his final destination. Was it possible that he had crossed into some tiny principality too insignificant to acknowledge? “Where am I, Highness? Please, I must know.”
Instead of answering, however, she stood, her hand still in his, and fixed him with a gaze that quelled his fears in an instant. “That is a tale for another day, my Prince.” She squeezed his hand reassuringly. “I will return in the morning, but in the meantime, I will send up some broth for your dinner. Afterwards, you must sleep. We will talk more when you have regained your strength.”
…
She was by his side every morning when he awoke, opening the heavy drapes to let in the sunlight before feeding him herself. The servants, it seemed, had all been dismissed; the Princess was taking over his care personally. She was patient and gentle, kind and sweet, quick to smooth his brow with a cool cloth when he grew feverish, to comfort him with soft words after a violent nightmare, to feed him more clear broth when he hungered. When it was clear that he could sit up without nausea, she would sit with him and read aloud, her voice transforming every ballad and tale into a melodic recitation.
Pierce came to crave her closeness, her intoxicating fragrance of honey-lilac and the warmth of his presence. There was a frisson of excitement in the pit of his stomach whenever she turned those strangely bewitching violet eyes upon him, and he became so lost in her that many days passed before he remembered the strange events that had brought him to her castle.
He and the Princess were taking a turn in her private gardens, an exquisite bower of sheltering trees and climbing vines that protected them for most of the hostility of the winter weather. Clad in furs and heavy coats, the couple strolled together down the stone path. They made a striking couple: Pierce, tall and stalwart, his shoulders still broad and his arms muscular despite his weeks of illness, and the woman beside him, lithe, elegant and graceful.
They had been walking for a quarter of an hour before Pierce paused to catch his breath, cursing silently at his frailty. “Do not be so hard on yourself, Pierce,” she murmured quietly, rubbing his back comfortingly. “You are much improved these past weeks.”
“But if I can barely walk for fifteen minutes, how will I manage to remain astride my horse? How will I wield my sword and lead my men into battle?” He shook his head darkly. “I am hopeless.”
“You have need of neither horse nor sword here, gentle Prince.”
“But I when I return home - ” He broke off, something indefinable in the woman’s face halting his words. “Princess… have you heard from my father? Do you know how my kingdom fares? Please, I am desperate for any news.”
She tugged at his hand. “Come with me,” she said tersely. “We must speak inside.”
With a rapidly beating heart, he followed her through the door and up the winding staircase that led to the guest room he occupied. The castle was quiet save for the servants quietly chatting as they went about their business. They were lost on Pierce, however, who could only focus on the mysterious woman before him and wonder what secrets she kept from him.
The Princess ushered him through the doors and shut them behind her. “Sit, Pierce,” she said softly, urging him onto the bed.
Pierce obeyed mechanically, palms sweaty as he waited for the news. “Tell me,” he pleaded once more. “Do not torture me with waiting. I must know what has happened.” He shut his eyes in anticipation of her response, and started in shock when he felt her soft lips touch his.
“Princess - ” he tried to object but she smothered his protests easily, sliding her tongue into his mouth. She was stronger than he expected, her slender hands holding him fast until at last he surrendered to her advances. He had wanted this from the moment he laid eyes on her, had dreamed of what she might taste like, and at last, finally, she was in his grasp. His hands closed around her waist and tugged her close, relishing the feel of her body against his. All too soon, she pulled away from him and fixed him with a captivating gaze.
“Pierce.” Her voice fairly throbbed with desire. “Do you truly want to leave me? I thought that you were happy here with me.”
He leaned in close, the tip of his aquiline nose bumping against hers. He was having trouble disengaging himself, especially when she was running her fingers through his hair and leaning in close. “I - I must,” he stammered, struggling to infuse his words with some form of authority and firmness. “I have to go, Princess. You know I must.”
She pulled back at his words, watching him with a strange glint in her eye. She was silent for a long moment before a predatory grin spread across her face, one that was markedly different from the sweet smiles she had given him before.
“No,” she said, and her voice was firmer this time, a touch colder, and it filled him with some strange mixture of fear, horror, and excitement. “I don’t think you will.” Her fingers moved imperceptibly and suddenly Pierce sagged back against the bed, his body weighed down with a strange, unnatural lassitude. His limbs felt heavy, leaden, and though he struggled to move himself, he found that it was all but impossible.
“Silly Prince,” she murmured, and this time her contempt was palpable. “Don’t you understand?” She gave a low, mocking laugh, teasingly running a finger over his lower lip. “You are home. You’re mine now. My very own little prince.”
Pierce hissed sharply as she ran a fingernail over his cheek, the tip biting into his skin. “So innocent and trusting,” she murmured, kneeling beside him on the bed. Her breasts pressed against his chest as she leaned in close, confining him with her presence. “Tell me that you’ll stay. Tell me that you’ll belong to me.”
“Princess,” he groaned, but it was in vain. His body was stirring to life beneath her, his cock hardening against his will. “Princess, please…” He bit back his words as she cupped him through the woolen fabric of his trousers, his voice dropping into a wordless whine in response. She released him all too soon, staring down at him unrepentantly.
“Say it,” she demanded through clenched teeth. He remained stubbornly silent, but she smirked nonetheless, not dissuaded from her goals in the slightest.
“You will say it, soon enough. You will beg me for any scrap of attention I can give, you’ll whimper for my love, and in the end, Prince Pierce, you’ll be little more than my pet, my wanton slut who will do anything for his Princess.” With that she stood, fingers trailing teasingly over his erection. “I’ll return tonight. Perhaps by then you will be more… amenable to my demands.”
In a swirl of skirts, she was gone and Pierce was left alone, immobilized, with nothing save his thoughts, fears, and dark desires.