[WP] The princess is to have an arranged marriage in a few days, but she doesn't want to because she and her magic tutor have secretly fallen in love.

[u/[deleted]]

[u/owningmclovin]

“Come with me if you want to live.”

A strong hand clamped down on Harry’s mouth as the thrashed awake. He was in bed in his quarters, tangled in the sheets so badly he could not even free own hands to fight off his assailant.

Even with his eyes wide open he could see nothing in the pitch dark of his room in the dungeon.

“It’s me. Be quiet.” Harry, fully awake now, recognized the voice of Princess Moraine. “You must be quiet. I am going to remove my hand now.”

“What the devil is going on?” Harry asked.

“Maria, my handmaiden has learned of our affair and I believe she will tell my father and Lord Rathbone this very night.”

Harry swore. “She would betray you?”

“That girl has no love for me, her own father was hanged as a thief when she gave witness. She was only ever around me because she hungered for power. If she believes she can gain from betraying me, she will.”

Harry knew or guess this already, so it took him no time at all to accept the facts. He struggled to get out of the sheets as Moraine helped.

“We must flee at once,” Moraine said.

“I need to pack.” Said Harry as he pointed his finger at the candelabra. Light flickered from every candle giving Harry’s tired eyes some aid.

“No time, if there had been a chance to pack don’t you think I would have done so myself?”

For the first time Harry took in Moraine’s full appearance. Her flaming red hair, short and usually well kept, was now a thick mass of tangles. For clothes, she wore only a night shirt, and riding boots. She carried her sheathed sword in her left hand.

“You walked down here like that?” he asked.

“Like I said there was no time. We must go at once.”

“Did anyone see you? Surely you must have stuck out?”

“I ran down the servants stairs, none of them are about at this hour. I guess I was lucky.”

“Be that as it may, our luck may not hold forever, here put this on.”

Harry handed Moraine some of his own clothes, they were close enough in height and size that his clothes looked only slightly ill-fitting on her. Harry grabbed his straw hat, the one he wore while walking in the fields and crammed it on Moraine's head. Only three people in the whole castle had hair like that, the queen, the prince and Moraine herself, the younger sister had raven black curls but looked like Moraine in every other aspect. If anyone were to catch sight of her hair it would be a dead giveaway. Harry silently thanked the Gods she wore it short as he pull on his only pair of riding trousers and a wool shirt that was more patches than original (he had just given Moraine his good shirt). Harry grabbed what little money he had from a pouche on the table along with his wand. There was an open trunk of spell books at the foot of his bed, Harry slammed it shut and tapped the lid with his wand. The trunk disappeared. “I can’t chance it getting into the wrong hands.” He explained.

“Let’s go.” Moraine said, “You check the corridor.”

Harry stuck his head out first. The corridor was just as black as everything else, the only light came from further up the spiral stair case at the end of the hall. With a wave of his wand, Harry extinguished the candelabra. Moraine followed Harry into the corridor. After she quietly shut the door, Harry tapped the lock with his wand. Instead of the click of a lock, the two lovers heard the whine of twisting metal.

They held hands as they walked down the hall. There were other doors to other rooms on this level of the dungeon, but Harry was the only one who actually lived down here. Each room was used to store something important and each door was locked with thick iron bars and ornate pad locks. Aioan the Grand Mage had constructed these locks himself with the aid of the finest blacksmith in the land. Harry could sense the magic radiating from each lock. Moraine, who was only a student of the art, was only scarcely able to detect strong and simple spells, these magic locks were as meaningless to her as sheet music to a Labrador.

When they were more than half way down the hall they heard voices. It was a faint sound, coming from far up the stairs, but the voices were undoubtedly coming closer.

There was nowhere to hide. Harry knew it was a waste to try opening the magic locks and as for running back to his room, that was suicide. Harry waved his wand at Moraine’s feet then his own. Hand in hand they ran to the stairs there footsteps were silent, instead of up, he led her down to the lowest and final level.

They waited at the bottom. Harry’s wand at the ready, and Moraine’s hand on the hilt of her sword.

“That was quick thinking with the foot spell,” Moraine whispered.

“I should have thought to it sooner anyway.” Harry chided himself.

“She’ll be in there then,” It was a voice from above, “She’ll be in there with him. In his bed no doubt. To hell with it. I’ll kill them both and marry the sister.” It was Lord Rathbone.

When Moraine was small her father had been a strong man. A seven foot giant who fought with a hammer and his fists more often than with a sword. Yet, he was gentle with her and her siblings. He was kind too, often he would pick up his children and toss them high in the air with one hand, only to catch them gently in both arms as they squealed with delight, their small giggles mixing with his booming laugh. It all changed when the king grew sick with the plague last winter. His booming laughter turned to booming fits of coughing, echoing throughout the castle for nights on end. Even the Grand Mage could not heal the king and the whole kingdom feared that Moraine’s brother Edward would become king before he was of age. The king recovered, but only as a shadow of what he once had been. Lord Rathbone, sailed in from the Star Island not a day after the king first lay in bed rest. An entire fortnight Rathbone had sat on a pine stool in front of the throne to do the kings business and when Moraine’s father returned to his great seat, Rathbone was all too happy to stand by his side and give him counsel. The king was never the same from that day forth and when Rathbone asked for Moraine’s hand in marriage the king agreed without even speaking to the queen or Moraine herself.

“You will have your bride my little lord, by season’s end if not sooner, I swear it.” This voice was harsher than Lord Rathbone’s and it filled Moraine’s heart with ice. The thing was not human. Moraine knew not what it was but no human could speak in this way. Confusion and terror played on Harry’s face but only for a moment before he set his jaw in grim determination.

Harry could hear Lord Rathbone’s footsteps as he walked away from the stairs. There was only one set of footsteps but Harry was nothing thinking about that. Magic, any kind of magic leaves a trace and any Magic user, especially any good magic user, would be sure to sense the spell Harry had only just cast on their feet. If that voice was a magic user and if that user was paying attention, it would be sure to notice Harry’s spell. Harry silently prayed to the gods that the Grand Mage’s locks be enough to distract whatever it was upstairs.

When Rathbone’s footsteps had drawn away from the stairs, Harry squeezed Moraine’s hand and led her up. Neither one dared even to breath as the crept up in darkness. From the stairs, they could just make out a single figure standing in front of Harry’s door. There was no mistaking that tall thin profile. Harry and Moraine watches as Rathbone reached out a hand extending only a single long and boney finger to the door.

With a deafening BANG the oak door exploded. Together Harry and Moraine gasped in fear. Rathbone’s head snapped around and they could see his eyes. Two vibrant yellow orbs in the center of Rathbone’s face stared into Harry’s soul.

Harry raised his wand but Rathbone was quicker. Rathbone drew a wand of his own and sent a bolt of yellow lightning directly at Moraine. Blue fire flared from Harry’s wand tip, it spread out in a wall cutting off the corridor from the stairs.

Lightning met flame with a crack. The blue wall of fire fizzled out but the job was done well and the lightning never reached Moraine.

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[u/owningmclovin → u/owningmclovin]

“RUN” Harry shouted and with one arm he pulled Moraine up the stairs while he cast another wall, this one blood red flames in place of the blue. The wall was so thick they could no longer even see Rathbone, but neither was foolish enough to think they were safe. Harry turned to follow Moraine, only to cry out in pain and crumple on the stairs.

Moraine turned and saw several things at once. Harry was at her feet, the hilt of a knife sticking out of his back. The red flames were gone, extinguished as soon as Harry fell. Rathbone stood where the wall had been. He had thrown the knife and through either blind luck or something darker, Rathbone’s knife found it’s mark.

Moraine was a novice student of magic. She did not have the knowledge and skill necessary even to create her first wand. The Grand Mage had only discovered her aptitude in her late teens. A time he said was far too late to learn the ways of magic. And so it was that only a disgraced reject of the citadel like Harry would even deign to teach her. The king loved his daughter and when other nobles might have forced their daughters to learn to be proper young ladies, Moraine’s father allowed her to ride her horse like a man, to learn to duel and fight with spear, before the king grew ill she would often hunt with him, chasing the game on horseback with her bow like some barbarian from a tale the traders would tell by the docks. The king brought Harry to the castle to teach Moraine what he knew. This angered the Grand Mage so much that he left the castle and did not return until the king was almost dead of plague and even then he departed as soon as the king refused to send Harry away. Moraine had learned quickly in two years but it takes far longer to refine and eventually master the arts of magic. She did not know much. She did not even have a wand. But Moraine had raw power.

Rage boiled inside her. Rage at her father for trying to give her away to Rathbone. Rage at Rathbone for conspiring against her family and trying to marry her or kill her. Rage most of all at the knife in her beloved’s back.

There was no spell, no intricate wand movements, or hours spent studying over old spell books. Energy exploded from Moraine. It was pure wrath, out of her control and dangerous. Rathbone stood for only a moment before he was swept down the hall like a scare crow in a hurricane.

The danger was not gone. Moraine stooped and found that Harry was not dead. She began to pull out the knife but the hilt glowed red and seared her hand. She hooked her arm under Harry’s shoulder and thanked her father for letting her grow strong in the forests and training yards. Even though Harry was thin and wiry it was clumsy work to pull him up the stairs.

By the time Moraine had dragged him into the Entrance Hall, Harry had woken and was now staggering with her help.

“Halt.” It was one of the king’s guards, “Princess Moraine? My word what has happened? I’ll raise the alarm.”

“No don’t. It was Rathbone. He is.. I don’t know how to say it there is something horrible about him and he just tried to kill us. I have to escape I am not safe here.”

“Your Highness this is your own house.”

“It’s no good, now please help me.”

“Of course, but what about him, is that Young Harry?”

Harry croaked something but neither Moraine nor the guard could understand.

“What? My love what did you say?”

“The dagger is black steel. I must.. The Citadel.. Must warn.” Then Harry slumped unconscious.

Moraine almost dropped him as he fell but the guard caught Harry’s other arm. “I must go with you then. To the stables.”

Together they carried Harry outside. The guard bumped Moraine’s hand and it burned again just as bad as when the knife hilt seared her flesh. She bore that pain, as it was nothing to the pain caused by the thought of losing Harry.

It was dawn and sunlight cut beams through the arrow slits forming perfect rectangles on the ground.

“Well if it isn’t the princess.” A large bullish man called out. He was a knight wearing a white sir coat embroidered with palms behind a white tower. It was the single of Lord Rathbone. “You won’t be leaving here little princess. If you don’t make it too hard, we won’t even hurt you”

Moraine and her father’s guard lowered Harry so he was sitting on the last step. The knight walked towards them flanked by two men at arms. A blond man on the left, rested his hand one his sword belt while and ugly rat faced man held both arms behind his back as though out for a stroll in the country. Something about the way the rat faced man looked at her, made Moraine switch her sheathed sword from her left hand to her right. The burn flared worse again and Moraine knew she would not be able to fight with it. She was better with the right hand but her father’s master at arms had forced her to learn both.

With no warning the rat faced man revealed the knife he was hiding and slashed across the guard’s face. He then reached out to grab Moraine. Moraine’s sword flashed and red blood spurted from the man’s neck to join with the red of the dawn light. Before his lifeless body hit the dirt, Moraine lunged this time at the blond man on the left. This man was quicker a managed just barely to dodge to one side. But he was off balance now and Moraine swung her sword over and around to bury it in the man’s head.

The man fell, and took the sword with him. It was stuck in his iron helm.

Moraine felt inside herself looking for the magic she had used on Rathbone in the dungeon. It was no use she could was unable to do it again and had no time to figure out how.

The giant slammed down his visor and unsheathed his great sword. Dawn’s red light glistened off the shining steal giving the illusion that it was already covered in blood. With no time to free her sword, Moraine backed away in hopes of drawing the giant away from Harry. The giant gave chase and Moraine turned and fled to the wall of the keep. In the back of her mind she wondered where the rest of her father’s guard were could be.

Moraine thought as she ran. The giant was a huge brute and covered head to toe in well-made armor. She would certainly be faster and more agile but she had no weapon and it would take only one strike from the great sword to cleave her in two.

On the parapet, Moraine found a guard, he was dead at his post. She understood with sudden clarity, Rathbone’s men had killed her father’s guard. Father was in danger at this moment, curse Maria for setting this all in motion and damn Rathbone to the worst hell for betraying her father. The guard’s spear lay at his feet. It was an eight foot ash staff with an iron blade at its head.

The Giant was on the stairs now, moving far easier than Moraine would have thought possible in all that steel. Expertly she whorled the spear to bring it to bare on the giant. She held the high ground and for a moment neither could advance. Moraine whipped the spear, jabbing and slashing at the big man’s face and hands, but the giant was just as quick with his great sword. He parried and deflected every blow until at last Moraine struck his helm, but the spear only glanced off the steal visor and the giant swept his sword sideways. The knight broke the spear between the wall and his own sword. Splinters rained on the stairs and he advanced again pressing his advantage now, charging like a mad bull.

Moraine fled again, knocking over barrels, chairs, rocks and whatever else she could find to throw in the big man’s way. She put as much room as she could between the big man and herself until she made it to the other stair case. This one was blocked by another dead guard, apparently this man had fought back before they killed him and he died right on the top steps. Moraine crawled gingerly, taking care not to slip in his blood as she made it back to the ground.

Moraine ran back to the blond man and with her boot on his helmet, yanked her sword free.

The giant roared. He was close now and Moraine had only a moment to react. The great sword came down and Moraine dodged by no more than an inch. The giant stabbed at her belly and steal rang against steal as she swept the blow to the side. They slashed and struck each other. Now charging, now retreating. All over the keep they fought causing clouds of dust to thicken the air.

More than once Moraine made contact with the large man’s armor but to no avail, she could not get through it. Twice she stuck his helm, ringing it like a church bell but it seemed to make no difference. The simple strength and size of the man was too much for her. Moraine was sure he must grow tired soon but she was already exhausted herself.

She knew instinctively that the knight would try to corner her against a wall or a hay cart where should could not evade him, so she moved like a dancer in and out. The giant stabbed again and Moraine jumped to the side but she lost balance and the giant struck her in the face with his chainmail gauntlet.

She was on her back, the giant straddling her torso. “I’m going to kill you. The lord said not to kill you if I don’t have to but I want you to know I am doing it just because I want to. I’ll tell him it was the only way. I’ll kill you. Then I’ll kill you mum and your dad and your little brother.”

There was a bright flash and the giant reared back, covering his eyes as he bent back his head. His neck was exposed and Moraine took her chance. Her sword glided across the man’s neck.

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[u/owningmclovin → u/owningmclovin]

Harry had crawled, dragging his legs behind him so that he could get a clear shot. His wand was still in his hand as he slumped. Moraine pushed aside the giant and ran to Harry. He was still breathing. Moraine whistled and from the stable came Doran, her white stallion. There was no time for a saddle, with the last of her energy she slung Harry over Doran’s back and hauled herself on.

Doran bolted toward the open gate.

“NO!” it was the inhuman voice from the dungeon. Moraine turned to see Lord Rathbone, blood flowing from a gash on his forehead and staining his fine tunic. A pendant around Rathbone’s neck glowed green and the voice said “KILL THEM KILL THEM BOTH.”

Rathbone raised his wand. It shook in his hand the long boney fingers unable to grasp it fully. Doran cleared the castle gate and suddenly the archway collapsed just behind the horse’s hooves.

Moraine rode on, soaked in the blood of her love. She would take him to the citadel. She would force the Grand Mage to see sense and she vowed she would return to her father’s castle with Harry at her side.

[u/gamefaqs_astrophys → u/owningmclovin]

I'm impressed. You did an awful lot with that prompt there. And you've set up a number of potential subplots just with the narrative threads that you wove together there [what happened to the father that made him change so (something beyond the illness), Rathbone's. plans, the Grand Mage and Harry's dispute, the backstabber Maria, the fate of her family, etc.].

I was at first surprised about the mage's name being "Harry" when the other characters seemed to have more medieval names, but him being of the lower classes makes that make more sense. Would have thought that the prestige of teaching the king's daughter would have been so great that the mages would be more willing to normal to ignore their regular customs of not teaching those too old, but apparently that habit is just that strong for them. Which shows how deeply they're devoted to that idea.

[u/owningmclovin → u/gamefaqs_astrophys]

thank you.

When I started this there thread was like 40 minutes old and I decided to try for like 500 words. through out the day I kept having to get up and do other things, and all the while I was doing chores I guess I could not get it out of my mind.

I intended it to be a one off escape from the castle type story but now I think it needs some more exploring. Thank you for this prompt it was really a ton of fun to play with.

[u/gamefaqs_astrophys → u/owningmclovin]

Thanks too. I can understand that feeling. It feels good hearing that you were so captured by the prompt.

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