Oy. Sorry, it really has been awhile. Well, before we begin might as well
hop on the bandwagon and give you my thoughts, and my lame excuses for not
writing. OK, thoughts are: presently I have absolutely no clue where this
story is headed, it could end up in Russia for all I know. And now for
lame excuses, I have recently recovered from a fairly serious disease
called Author's Block. Due to the side effects of the illness, I have
been unable to work on my fanfictions, or even on my novel, but I seem to
be cured for the present. And now without further ado, the story (no, I
changed my mind, this AN was so well thought out and brilliantly put
together that I decided that you don't really need to read the story, but
if you must then scroll down.)
Swinging his legs back on the steed, Henry urged him forwards, gently
applying pressure to the horse's sides. He drove it left, as his heart led
him towards his true destination, he prayed for her.
"The fire, milady is warm and inviting." Indeed it was, thought Danielle, but the idea of staying away from Charles as much as possible was even more promising than warmth.
"Hannah will not be home for awhile, I assure you," he said suggestively. "She is off in a clearing, the Prince will soon ride past her, yes my dear, he has been trying to find you for quite some time." He said, looking as Danielle's face instantly lit alight at the thought of being rescued. "Milady," moving closer as he spoke, "when the prince rides to the clearing," still moving closer, "she, my lovely bride," she could smell his breath, "will convince him that you are, dead," taste his breath.
He grabbed her chin viciously, and forces her on her knees. "You listen closely," he snarled, "Queen Marie will pay for her past by watching her son slowly deteriorate from pain and guilt that only, if only he hadn't left you alone, you would still be alive." His voice spoke is a rough whisper, scratching his throat, hurting Danielle's ears.
Henry's heart fell as he came upon a small clearing. This was not right, it was neither thicker, nor as dangerous as he had expected, and had been promised by the letter. But something caught his eye, a slight grunt, escaping from a foul, yet somehow delicate creature.
"Yes, sir, how may I be of service?" She asked politely, as he rode towards her.
Henry took a quick glance at what lay below her feet, horror struck, realized that it was a grave, perhaps two heads shorter then him.
"Ah, she was a beautiful girl, sir," said the woman, taking notice of his quizzical stares regarding the grave.
Henry nodded, prodding her on, "I found her dead, 'ere," she said pointing to a tree off to the far left. "Her body still in excellent shape, 'cept it was cold, dead as could be. She had auburn hair, beautiful creature." The peasant woman sighed again.
After a long conversation with the woman, Henry had no doubt left in his mind that the girl that the peasant had described was indeed Danielle. "Oh, Danielle," he thought, "what will I ever do without you?"
The peasant had long since left, going in the direction of the tree where she had found his wife. He wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms once again, and without hesitation he grabbed a stick off of a tree, and held it like he would Danielle. He held it like he had held her the day of his wedding, the day when he retrieved her from the palms of Monsieur Lepieu.
"Oh Danielle," he whispered, emotion overwhelming him, forcing him to drop the stick, and it lay beside the grave, in a perfect parallel line.
Hannah returned to the camp site, feeling somewhat sorry for Danielle, not even being able to imagine what she must be going through. She never would see her Prince again, never feel him in her arms.
By the time she returned it was near dark, and the hostage and her husband were curled up sleeping by the fire. She curled up to her husbands left, and quickly falling asleep.
Danielle awoke and it was still night, and dark figure towered over top of her, and she squinted to see who it was, but her efforts were futile. He leaned in and kissed her, hard and soft. This was too much for Danielle, his wife was right next to him.
"Charles," she screamed, "get off of me," and she pushed him away, and prepared herself to return to a serene slumber, not wanting to think of the consequences of her actions.
"I wasn't even awake," Charles snarled, still beside her, "but I am now!" He leapt up and drew his sword, but not a soul was in sight, "who goes there, I demand you show yourself!" Charles screamed, terror filled his voice. By now the trio were wide awake, fully prepared for the worst.
"I do," the voice replied, and a figure emerged from the shadows.
"Henry," Danielle yelped happily and ran to his arms.
He held her close to his heart as he promised he would, for this truly was a gift from God to have her back again
A sharp point touched Danielle's back, and she spun around. The sword, now pointed at her chest was being wielded by Hannah, not the suspected Charles.
"Tell your Prince to leave you Danielle, and never return, or he truly will be standing next to your grave."
"The fire, milady is warm and inviting." Indeed it was, thought Danielle, but the idea of staying away from Charles as much as possible was even more promising than warmth.
"Hannah will not be home for awhile, I assure you," he said suggestively. "She is off in a clearing, the Prince will soon ride past her, yes my dear, he has been trying to find you for quite some time." He said, looking as Danielle's face instantly lit alight at the thought of being rescued. "Milady," moving closer as he spoke, "when the prince rides to the clearing," still moving closer, "she, my lovely bride," she could smell his breath, "will convince him that you are, dead," taste his breath.
He grabbed her chin viciously, and forces her on her knees. "You listen closely," he snarled, "Queen Marie will pay for her past by watching her son slowly deteriorate from pain and guilt that only, if only he hadn't left you alone, you would still be alive." His voice spoke is a rough whisper, scratching his throat, hurting Danielle's ears.
Henry's heart fell as he came upon a small clearing. This was not right, it was neither thicker, nor as dangerous as he had expected, and had been promised by the letter. But something caught his eye, a slight grunt, escaping from a foul, yet somehow delicate creature.
"Yes, sir, how may I be of service?" She asked politely, as he rode towards her.
Henry took a quick glance at what lay below her feet, horror struck, realized that it was a grave, perhaps two heads shorter then him.
"Ah, she was a beautiful girl, sir," said the woman, taking notice of his quizzical stares regarding the grave.
Henry nodded, prodding her on, "I found her dead, 'ere," she said pointing to a tree off to the far left. "Her body still in excellent shape, 'cept it was cold, dead as could be. She had auburn hair, beautiful creature." The peasant woman sighed again.
After a long conversation with the woman, Henry had no doubt left in his mind that the girl that the peasant had described was indeed Danielle. "Oh, Danielle," he thought, "what will I ever do without you?"
The peasant had long since left, going in the direction of the tree where she had found his wife. He wanted nothing more than to hold her in his arms once again, and without hesitation he grabbed a stick off of a tree, and held it like he would Danielle. He held it like he had held her the day of his wedding, the day when he retrieved her from the palms of Monsieur Lepieu.
"Oh Danielle," he whispered, emotion overwhelming him, forcing him to drop the stick, and it lay beside the grave, in a perfect parallel line.
Hannah returned to the camp site, feeling somewhat sorry for Danielle, not even being able to imagine what she must be going through. She never would see her Prince again, never feel him in her arms.
By the time she returned it was near dark, and the hostage and her husband were curled up sleeping by the fire. She curled up to her husbands left, and quickly falling asleep.
Danielle awoke and it was still night, and dark figure towered over top of her, and she squinted to see who it was, but her efforts were futile. He leaned in and kissed her, hard and soft. This was too much for Danielle, his wife was right next to him.
"Charles," she screamed, "get off of me," and she pushed him away, and prepared herself to return to a serene slumber, not wanting to think of the consequences of her actions.
"I wasn't even awake," Charles snarled, still beside her, "but I am now!" He leapt up and drew his sword, but not a soul was in sight, "who goes there, I demand you show yourself!" Charles screamed, terror filled his voice. By now the trio were wide awake, fully prepared for the worst.
"I do," the voice replied, and a figure emerged from the shadows.
"Henry," Danielle yelped happily and ran to his arms.
He held her close to his heart as he promised he would, for this truly was a gift from God to have her back again
A sharp point touched Danielle's back, and she spun around. The sword, now pointed at her chest was being wielded by Hannah, not the suspected Charles.
"Tell your Prince to leave you Danielle, and never return, or he truly will be standing next to your grave."