There was nothing worse than summer hauled up in the castle, the blazing sun casting its ethereal glow on the land kissing the skin of the people below, warming their souls, making everyone happier while Emma had to stay trapped inside like a pampered pet. Princess Emma could often be found staring wistfully from her bedroom window watching the village below wishing she was outside in and amongst the activity of their kingdom, her room looked directly onto the docks, the heart of the seaside town and she spent many an hour torturing herself watching other people live their lives while hers was on pause. She pictured herself in a tiny snow globe, her life looked serene and perfect to those looking in, but nothing changed, she waited out her days in her perfect palace wearing the most beautiful dresses and dining on the most exquisite food just watching the days come and go, those on the outside looking in would never know just how much she envied their normal lives.
However this particular afternoon she couldn't be seen at her usual perch, the sounds of laughter and merriment mixed with the birds happily chirping, flying free while she had to remain within her stone prison had driven Emma out of her room and off to find something to distract herself. Today's distraction came in the form of Tristen, one of the palace musicians, a 20-something blonde hair, blue eyed, athletically built distraction. He'd caught her eye the night before during a dinner Queen Regina, her adoptive mother and Queen consort until Emma married, had thrown inviting Kings from all the lands to see Princess Emma, showcasing her, letting the world know that the Princess was at marrying age.
She'd always known it was her sole purpose in life, to be married off as a business transaction to benefit the kingdom. She'd been groomed from childhood to be everything a royal wife should be. Emma found it all painfully boring, it was a lot of her being quiet and pretty and only speaking when a man asked her a question, she'd been taught how to flirt, how to compliment men, not to speak her mind, especially when it came to politics, and of course all things pertaining to providing an heir, he only job she had once married.
Emma had decided long ago if she was destined to live out her days as some stuffy King's trophy wife then until that death sentence was passed she would live her life to the fullest, on her terms, experiencing every thrill she could, behind Queen Regina's back, of course. Emma tried everything and anything to make her feel alive and to distract from her responsibilities and mundane existence.
It was this thrill seeking nature that had led to her sitting on a bale of hay in the furthest corner of the furthest stable in nothing but her under dress and corset across from Tristen in only his trousers playing a rousing game of strip poker.
The blush on the young man's face told Emma he was out of his depth and the fact that his pupils were as wide as canyons told her that he wanted her and while that should have sent bolts of sexual electricity through her body by this point it mostly just humoured her that all men were the same, hopelessly distracted by a pretty face and the promise of physical intimacy and they always lost to her, which suited her because if there was one thing Emma loved it was winning, especially when it meant beating men at their own games and doing something the queen would hate. Perhaps it was the summer weather, but she was feeling particularly frisky and generous today.
"Let's make this interesting." She said slyly.
Her opponent looked up at her eagerly. "Princess?"
"If you win the next hand, not only will I remove my corset but I'll let you kiss me."
The musician gulped, and then looked back at his hand hopefully. Unaware that Emma had already thrown the game wanting to move things along.
When she revealed her hand a smile spread across his face.
"Well a deal's a deal." She stood and turned her back to him, "would you mind helping? I usually have servants get me in and out of these."
Emma was fully capable of untying her corset but it was all part of her game. She was in control of her body and how she got her pleasures, a liberty she knew she wouldn't have the luxury of forever, so for now she called the shots, she was in charge.
His fingers trembles with anticipation as he tugged at the ribbon releasing her breasts from their restraint. When she turned to face him he could see her pert nipples protruding from the thin material of her underdress and he immediately felt his trousers tightening. He step forward and brushed his lips against hers claiming his kiss. They were always hesitant at first, she was a princess after all, and legally her body and her lips belonged to her future husband. Emma found it endearing. He pulled away looking at her like a hopeful puppy waiting to be thrown a table scrap.
Emma grinned coyly, "That wasn't where I wanted you to kiss me."
He gulped again, his trousers now painfully tight, "w...where did you want to be kissed?"
Emma lifted her dress up to her knee and then took his hand placing his warm clammy palm on her thigh just above her knees then guided it up her leg, his breathing hitched and he reached her bare hip. They walked slowly back until she felt the cold stable wall press against her back. He dared not move his hand despite its closeness to her most intimate part. Perspiration formed on his brow, the self-restraint was almost killing him. Emma leaned her head to the side exposing her long slender neck, "start here" she whispered.
His lips touched her skin just below her ear and lightly but clumsily trailed down her neck.
Just then there was the sound of voices from outside, this would have to wait for another time. Emma grabbed her clothes and quickly ran out the rear of the stable calling over her shoulder "thanks for the game!" leaving a rather dishevelled and disappointed Tristen behind.
Emma ran down the castle halls to the throne room. She was late because she had to get dressed and have her hair repined after her dalliance with Tristen. Queen Regina hated lateness. Emma burst through the doors, not waiting for the squire to announce her arrival, she marched past the poor man stuttering his announcement and walked straight to her adoptive mother's throne.
"You summoned me your majesty" she curtsied.
Queen Regina eyed her suspiciously, "Is that a different dress from the one you wore at breakfast this morning?"
"That Atlantis silk is too hot for me on days like today." Emma replied innocently.
"It is insufferably hot today" the queen agreed, giving an evil look to the servant next to her holding a fan, seeing her expression he quickened his pace, increasing the breeze, "best to stay inside the castle today, Emma; we don't want to darken your complexion." The queen commanded.
"Yes, your majesty" she replied.
"The Kings were very pleased with you Emma, their prospective suitors will arrive at the castle in three weeks' time to meet you and so I can start the process of choosing your husband. I need you to take care of yourself until then, eat properly, rest up, and keep up all your beauty regimes. You'll only be allowed in designated rooms and with limited contact with others. I want you blemish free and in perfect condition to meet the suitors."
"I understand." Emma curtsied and turned to leave the room. Once alone in the castle hallway she rolled her eyes and headed up to her bedroom. For the next three weeks she was stuck inside the castle, there would be no more secret meetings with Tristen in the stables, or with any other men for that matter. She knew what this meant. Regina was keeping her untouched and above suspicion so no accusation could be made against her virtue by her prospective husbands. The next three weeks would be ones of solitude, a time to reflect and prepare herself emotionally and physically for marriage. Emma had no time for any of it. She sighed, climbing up on her window ledge to watch the sunset, she counted 12 ships docked, and grabbing some paper she noted their flags and the names of any she recognised along with the date. Charting the ships comings and goings had become a hobby of hers since childhood. And despite never having stepped on board a ship she could tell most ships apart, navy, merchant, fishing, diplomatic ships, she knew them all. With that many ships docked for the night the town would be bustling with excitement tonight, taverns overflowing, the streets full, and music everywhere. Emma drummed her fingers against the window while the wheels in her head turned, setting a plan in motion.
Queen Regina had ordered Emma go to bed at 10pm, which meant her servants would be there soon to start her night time beauty treatments. By 9:45 they would leave her to go to sleep. Emma threw open her wardrobe and found the plainest clothes she could. A simple green dress she used for walking in the gardens and her brown riding cloak. She stuffed them under her bed and returned to the window, looking down she eyed the thick vines growing up the castle wall. It had been a while since she climbed them but they should withstand her weight. Emma had no intention of spending the next three weeks in quarantine.
A few hours later Emma was walking down the streets towards the tavern, the hood of her cloak was pulled up to cover her braided hair; music filled the air drifting out from the local taverns, casinos, and whorehouses. Hurriedly making her way down the street she found the tavern she knew most the sailors used as their watering hole when in town, after looking over her shoulder just to make sure she hadn't been followed she darted inside, placed a coin on the bar and asked for rum. Once her drink arrived she found the darkest corner she could to sit and watch her fellow patrons.
Music was playing and the barmaids were busy keeping the ale flowing and the men happy. The men who weren't ogling the staff were huddled round a small table playing dice. The lonely years growing up in the castle had made Emma a keen people watcher and an expert at body language. She watched the punters closely, feeling the anticipation and excitement of their game building into a crescendo that finished with a resounding cheer for the winner. Curiosity getting the better of her Emma moved over to stand closer and watch the men play.
"You'll get a better view sitting here, lass." One man slapped his knee suggestively; Emma ignored him, instead focusing on the game. After watching a few rounds she had the basic rules figured out.
For the third time in a row the same man, a tall, dark, and handsome naval officer, won. He was scooping his scattered winnings into a leather pouch when he called out, "does anyone else want to lose money tonight?"
Chuckles sounded from the spectators and with no new challenger the table began to clear, those who still had any money left choosing to spend it on drink and female company. Emma took her opportunity and sat across from him slamming a handful of coins on the table. "I'm game" she declared.
The man was humoured by her challenge. "I've never known a woman to play dice." He chuckled.
"That is because you have never met me." She looked up at him through her long lashes.
He hesitated for a moment, struck by her beauty. "So...are we going to begin? Or are you scared you'll go home with a lighter coin purse?" She teased him.
He shook his head, laughing, "My dear girl, I'm afraid it would be ungentlemanly of me to take your money, though your keenness humours me no end."
"Why don't we play a round and see how humoured you are then." She took the dice and dropped them in the small wooden cup, shaking them and then turning the cup upside down on the table with a bang and laughing he joined her. Slowly people started to return to watch the mysterious woman challenge their champion.
One hour and countless rounds later his whole demeanour had changed, Emma was making a man sweat for the second time that day, one roll away from handing over his last coins he pulled a handkerchief form his pocket and mopped his brow. The fateful roll fell and Emma once again won the hand. The captivated crowd of spectators had gathered round and were now cheering and offering Emma congratulatory drinks. They'd found a new hero.
From a dimly lit table in the corner of the tavern a man sat in the shadows watching her, playing with the hook that sat in place of his left hand, he studied her every move.