(no subject)
Lady Clarelinda rode through the forest on her dappled horse, her butter-yellow tresses flowing behind her like a beauteous cloud of gold. She rode like this every morning, in order to clear her head, for the quiet green of the forest made her glad. As she had donned her pale blue silky riding dress that morning, she had felt a faint chill, but perhaps it was just the coming autumn chilling her bones.
And yet...
There came a clop of heavy hooves from ahead of her, and a black horse carrying a black-clad rider emerged from the green underbrush. "My sweet Lady Clarelinda, I come to take you away from this place and to marry you," said the man, whose face was shaded by a hood.
"I demand to know who you are, impertinent sir," she demanded, glaring coldly with her ice-blue eyes. "Surely you must know that I am already betrothed to Lord Evander of Clearstream!"
"I am the Dark Magus Nurzahn," he said, shaking his hood down to reveal a demonically handsome face with a pointed black goatee and moustache, "and that pitiful Evander cannot stop me, nor can all the armies of Clearstream!"
"I should like to see you try," said Clarelinda. "You will not triumph." She held her head proudly.
"Oh, but my dearest Lady Clarelinda," said Nurzahn, "you forget something of great importance."
"I doubt it very much," she said. "What, unkind sir, do I forget?"
"Merely this: you, a lady to whom the art of war is unknown, have chosen to ride out alone into the deep forest and encountered a dark magician of great power. No one will hear your cries for help, nor will your disappearance be found out in time for anyone to do a thing about it," he cackled with fiendish glee. And with a snap of his finger, six warriors appeared on coal-black steeds and held their swords out to pierce her flesh if she did not comply.
"Very well," she said, quivering with fear.
* * *
[twenty pages of porn plot later]
Evander's soul was pierced in two. Though he knew he was fated to marry the beautiful Clarelinda after he rescued her from the evil Nurzahn's tower, he could not help but remember the night of passion he had only just shared with Clarelinda's servant girl, Ignacia. The way her silken locks had looked firey even in the pale moonlight, how her milky white body had been so smooth and soft, how she had breathed his name so prettily in his ear, and been such a skillful lover, though only a virgin.
But he told himself that he must ignore Ignacia's beauty, the way her wise green eyes perceived the dark horseman's trail where he could only see dust, the way her clever fingers tied tight knots the way they had tied his heart into knots...
He looked away, trying to regain composure.
"Lord Evander, why do you stare so?" she asked, and he turned to look at her again. Rosy circles had risen upon her pale cheeks, and it was her turn to look away.
"No reason; it is just that you are such a lovely flower to gaze upon," he told her honestly.
"You lie," she said, blushing even further. "You must have said the same to a dozen servant girls, and will say the same to a dozen more. Oh, if only my lady Clarelinda knew! Why, she would sooner marry that Nurzahn, hideous though he is, than allow you in her presence!"
"But Ignacia -"
"No!" she said, putting a hand to her pale brow, just above where her delicate ginger eyebrows arched. "Say no more! You will compare me to a rose, or to a tulip!"
"No, I -"
"And Clarelinda, what will she be? A lily, I suppose, as she is so fair, or perhaps a buttercup. No, Lord Evander, though you have plucked me, though I may die, I am not your flower, nor will I ever be."
"But I -"
"Be quiet, else Nurzahn's guards will hear us and your chances of rescuing your love, Lady Clarelinda, will be no more," she snapped. She wiped away a tear, and he longed to take her into his arms, to tell her - what? That he loved her? But he had agreed to marry Clarelinda, and he could think of no reason to complain about her but for her sudden disappearance and the lack of fiery curls of silk flowing down her shoulders, and of wise emerald eyes focused on the details of a path.
And so he stayed silent, unable to think of anything more to say.
And yet...
There came a clop of heavy hooves from ahead of her, and a black horse carrying a black-clad rider emerged from the green underbrush. "My sweet Lady Clarelinda, I come to take you away from this place and to marry you," said the man, whose face was shaded by a hood.
"I demand to know who you are, impertinent sir," she demanded, glaring coldly with her ice-blue eyes. "Surely you must know that I am already betrothed to Lord Evander of Clearstream!"
"I am the Dark Magus Nurzahn," he said, shaking his hood down to reveal a demonically handsome face with a pointed black goatee and moustache, "and that pitiful Evander cannot stop me, nor can all the armies of Clearstream!"
"I should like to see you try," said Clarelinda. "You will not triumph." She held her head proudly.
"Oh, but my dearest Lady Clarelinda," said Nurzahn, "you forget something of great importance."
"I doubt it very much," she said. "What, unkind sir, do I forget?"
"Merely this: you, a lady to whom the art of war is unknown, have chosen to ride out alone into the deep forest and encountered a dark magician of great power. No one will hear your cries for help, nor will your disappearance be found out in time for anyone to do a thing about it," he cackled with fiendish glee. And with a snap of his finger, six warriors appeared on coal-black steeds and held their swords out to pierce her flesh if she did not comply.
"Very well," she said, quivering with fear.
* * *
[twenty pages of porn plot later]
Evander's soul was pierced in two. Though he knew he was fated to marry the beautiful Clarelinda after he rescued her from the evil Nurzahn's tower, he could not help but remember the night of passion he had only just shared with Clarelinda's servant girl, Ignacia. The way her silken locks had looked firey even in the pale moonlight, how her milky white body had been so smooth and soft, how she had breathed his name so prettily in his ear, and been such a skillful lover, though only a virgin.
But he told himself that he must ignore Ignacia's beauty, the way her wise green eyes perceived the dark horseman's trail where he could only see dust, the way her clever fingers tied tight knots the way they had tied his heart into knots...
He looked away, trying to regain composure.
"Lord Evander, why do you stare so?" she asked, and he turned to look at her again. Rosy circles had risen upon her pale cheeks, and it was her turn to look away.
"No reason; it is just that you are such a lovely flower to gaze upon," he told her honestly.
"You lie," she said, blushing even further. "You must have said the same to a dozen servant girls, and will say the same to a dozen more. Oh, if only my lady Clarelinda knew! Why, she would sooner marry that Nurzahn, hideous though he is, than allow you in her presence!"
"But Ignacia -"
"No!" she said, putting a hand to her pale brow, just above where her delicate ginger eyebrows arched. "Say no more! You will compare me to a rose, or to a tulip!"
"No, I -"
"And Clarelinda, what will she be? A lily, I suppose, as she is so fair, or perhaps a buttercup. No, Lord Evander, though you have plucked me, though I may die, I am not your flower, nor will I ever be."
"But I -"
"Be quiet, else Nurzahn's guards will hear us and your chances of rescuing your love, Lady Clarelinda, will be no more," she snapped. She wiped away a tear, and he longed to take her into his arms, to tell her - what? That he loved her? But he had agreed to marry Clarelinda, and he could think of no reason to complain about her but for her sudden disappearance and the lack of fiery curls of silk flowing down her shoulders, and of wise emerald eyes focused on the details of a path.
And so he stayed silent, unable to think of anything more to say.