The Bonny Prince

The Bonny Prince

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Details

Status: Finished

Genre: Erotica

Summary

An intricate interaction of lust, politics, war and bloodlines. Kirkwall is a small independent city-state living on the edge of the Orlesian Empire. It's independence has been under threat for a long time since the death of their last Queen. What role does the stable-boy Martin have to play and what is the truth behind the whore Sally?

Summary

An intricate interaction of lust, politics, war and bloodlines.

Kirkwall is a small independent city-state living on the edge of the Orlesian Empire. It's independence has been under threat for a long time since the death of their last Queen.

What role does the stable-boy Martin have to play and what is the truth behind the whore Sally?

Chapter1 (v.1) - The Bonny Prince

Author Chapter Note

An intricate interaction of lust, politics, war and bloodlines. Kirkwall is a small independent city-state living on the edge of the Orlesian Empire. It's independence has been under threat for a long time since the death of their last Queen. What role does the stable-boy Martin have to play and what is the truth behind the whore Sally?

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: October 19, 2014

Reads: 712

A A A | A A A

Chapter Content - ver.1

Submitted: October 19, 2014

A A A

A A A

Chapter One – Sally from the Alley

Talis Senna, the world-weary and white-haired keeper of the tavern that bore his name, narrowed his eyes as a small, unmarked carriage emerged from the darkness of the late evening towards his door. Senna’s Retreat stood at the edge of Lowtown, somewhere between the bracing depravity of the Docks and the festering depression of the Alienage. Kirkwall was a city that had changed considerably in the century that had elapsed since the rise to power of Marian Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, but the demarcations of the city had not – Hightown still housed the rich and powerful, Lowtown the teeming multitudes aspiring to break through the shackles of their birth and class, and Darktown was where the desperate and the criminal sought their refuges.

The carriage slowed down as it approached and the driver pulled the reins right, turning the two-horse carriage and propelling it through the outer gate of Senna’s Retreat before he brought to a halt at the door. Talis remained at the door, watching as his man-of-all work, Martin, took charge of the horses as the driver stepped down and opened the door.

Talis waited till Martin was out of earshot before he acknowledged the handsomely-dressed man who had alighted from the carriage.

“Good evening, my lord,” he said. “Sally, as usual?”

The man he had addressed as ‘my lord’ nodded in acknowledgement. He wore a hat on his head, despite the lateness of the hour, and his features were all but indistinguishable, but Talis was well aware of them – the too-black hair, the too-perfect moustache, the too-clever expression.

Talis led the man around the walls of his tavern, towards an unlighted staircase that led up to the corridor of the first storey of the building. He climbed up first, the guest staying well behind. Alighting at the top of the stairs, he opened the door, which was latched from the outside and stepped in, his guest remaining without.

The corridor was crowded, as was usually the case at that time. The crowd comprised of a dozen males of varying sizes and, from the quality or raiment, varying walks of life ranging from the richer trading classes to the labourers of the Undercity. Three were elves and two were dwarves, fingering their rich beards. The other seven were men. Their attention was focussed on the first door on the left.

“Clear off, you lot. Sally has a special guest.”

Groans all around.

“Should be finished in an hour or so. You can try the drinks downstairs till then.”

More protests, mostly to the tune of “Must those Hightown bastards have our whore too, isn’t it bad enough they take our freedom?”, but they obeyed.

Talis knocked the door of the room on his left – three sharp raps - before entering.

“Get out, rat,” he said to the Darktown man who was hastily buttoning up his breeches. As the shabbily dressed man fled through the door, Talis turned his attention to the object of all the fuss, Sally Loew, who was pulling up her dress, a rich pink dress that had once been expensive and was still very tight-fitting, over what Talis was sure were the most spectacular breasts in the Free Marches.

“It’s the Viscount,” he said simply.

“I guessed,” she replied in a husky voice with a hint of embers burning in a charcoal fire, attaching an earring to her right ear.

Talis looked her over. Sally was a tall woman, and as thin as a spindle, but her body was all sinew and muscles, with a stomach as hard as a brick wall. The only anomaly was her enormous breasts, which Talis was certain were magically enhanced in some way, because her frame could not possibly naturally have grown them. He supposed it made sense for someone in her line of work, though it made her appear grotesque to him, and was the reason why he had never himself partaken of her services, despite the fact that she had been operating from his tavern for the better part of ten years and had offered them to him on more than one occasion. Apart from that she was pretty enough, with a square face and smooth skin, though her eyes were probably a touch too small and her nose just slightly too crooked to be considered truly beautiful. She did have striking long, straight dark hair, which Talis actually found more beautiful than her oversized breasts.

“You can send him in now,” she said, setting her hair in place.

Talis nodded and stepped back out of the room. He pulled back the door onto the staircase, to find his illustrious guest standing on the landing.

“She will be glad to receive you, my lord,” he said.

The Viscount nodded curtly and entered the room.

Talis stepped back out on the staircase and latched the door from the outside again. It was a regular ritual, the visit of the Viscount of Kirkwall to Sally Loew, but as the day and time when he would come was not fixed, the side staircase, the latched door, the three-rap knock…all little codes, little rituals that he and Sally had worked out between themselves.

He returned to the front of the tavern, where the Viscount’s driver was chatting with Martin. As Talis approached, the man patted Martin on the arm and raised his hat to the tavern-keeper.

“Antivan brandy?” Talis asked him, as they stepped into the tavern together.

“As always,” the man nodded. He was an elf, tall and thin, with shiny dark hair falling over his shoulders.

They settled on a table. Talis signalled to his son Cilla behind the bar, who brought the bottle of brandy and two glasses before them.

“Is that the second visit this week, then, Dominic?” asked Talis with a smile.

“I remember when he used to only visit once a month,” nodded the elf, speaking with a light Antivan accent. “In the twelve-month he’s been Viscount, I believe he’s spent more time with Sally than the Viscountess.”

“Well, Dom, in the old days before the – displacement of the Hawke family - there was the brothel – The Blooming Rose. It allowed patrons to spread their seed, if you get what I mean,” laughed Talis. “Now the whores have to operate clandestinely since the Viscount shut them down on the advice of the Chantry.”

“The chantry’s decisions are sacrosanct, of course,” said Dom. “I know little of Kirkwall, though I hear that it was a very different place before the fall of the Hawke family.”

“Oh yes, very different. Kirkwall was the last of the Free cities to fall under the Holy Empire, you know. Lord Malcolm Hawke II only accepted Chantry control thirty years ago, and it was as recent as ten years ago that the Orlesian army moved in and unseated Lady Darlene Hawke and ended the autonomy of Kirkwall within the Empire.”

“Ah yes, the Hawke family. There’s still a lot of respect for them, isn’t it?”

“For their memory, yes, I suppose. The rebels are sworn to restore the Hawke family to power in Kirkwall – though how they propose to do so when there is no Hawke left, I don’t know.”

“Well, the rebel leader Lucky Amell is related to the Hawke family, his great-great grandfather was the Uncle of Marian Hawke.”

“An Amell isn’t quite the same, even if he has named his outfit the Hawkes,” said Talis, fingering his glass. His eyes darted around the room even as he drank, seeming to observe all movements.

“He calls them the Silver Hawks, actually,” said Dominic. “I don’t know if it’s meant to be a reference to the family or some sort of allegory. Either way, their activity has greatly increased of late.”

Talis shrugged, as if to indicate he had little more to contribute.

“In the past six months, seven of the top officials in the Viscount’s administration have been assassinated, as you know well.”

“Yes, I remember thinking it was rather careless of them to allow themselves to be assassinated like that,” commented Talis, indifferently, his eyes on Martin, who had entered the tavern to serve the men gathered at the long end-table.

“The Viscount is committed to rooting them out, once and for all,” Dom went on.

“That would be commendable,” said Talis. “Business is always better when there is peace.”

“As always, you take the practical view, my friend, as I thought you would. In fact, I had to ask your help in our effort against this menace.”

“You’re the chief of the City Guard and the Viscount's right-hand man, Dom. Surely you know more about the Hawks than I possibly could,” said the old tavern-keeper.

“And yet, the Hawks must be coming here.”

“What are you implying?” asked Talis, the faintest hint of an edge to his voice.

“Merely that the Hawks are comprised of men and women of Kirkwall, which means they must be passing through your doors at some point of time.”

“There are many taverns in Kirkwall, Dominic,” said Talis. “At least as long as the Chantry allows us to function.”

“Aye, there are many taverns in Kirkwall, but there is only one Sally Loew, and she only entertains clients in your tavern. Which means that men who use her services have to pass through here – and if I’m not mistaken, almost all the men in Kirkwall have used her services at some time or the other.”

“Sally and I go back a long way,” said Talis defensively. “And we have always been on the side of the authorities. In fact that’s how it all began – when the Chantry sent forces from Orlais to occu – assimilate Kirkwall into the Holy Empire, my tavern was where most of the soldiers had been quartered before their final assault on Hightown and the Gallows. Sally was one of their camp followers, said she had come from Ferelden to make her fortune – and I believe she made a pretty one that night, forty soldiers at ten silver pieces each. She’s stayed here ever since.”

“Hmm. Charming story. But you’re saying she’s been here for a decade, then?”

“Well, yes.”

“Strange that she looks so young, then. I could’ve sworn she doesn’t look a day over twenty-one. Another strange thing – my sources tell me that all those men were assassinated while they were heading to, or from, your tavern to have a go with Sally, presumably.”

“She hasn’t changed at all since I’ve known her, Dom. Possibly the same magic that has given her that outsized bust. And don’t go suspecting her of having anything to do with your precious assassinations. Sally is just a girl – well a woman, I suppose she must be thirty or thereabouts now – who loves nothing better than a cock in her.”

“Oh I know that,” said Dominic, with a slight smile. “But while she may not be directly involved, it’s obvious that the Hawks do know exactly who her patrons are and when they visit.”

“Oh come now, Dom. You said yourself, Sally’s got a lot of patrons. Maker knows I’ve told her to raise her charges a thousand times, but she always tells me not to be ridiculous, she’d do it for free if she didn’t have to pay me rent.”

“True, true. So you won’t mind if I keep one of my men here at all times, just to keep his eyes and ears open, see who comes and goes, eh?”

Talis gripped his glass tightly. For all the politeness in Dominic’s voice there was no ambiguity about the fact that he was issuing an order, not making a request. Dominic was not just the Captain of the City Guard – he was also his eyes and ears in the city and rumoured to be an assassin who had once been, or still was, a member of the Antivan Crows. Antagonising him was not an option.

“It would look a little suspicious if a man was just sitting here all day,” said Talis feebly.

“Oh, but he wouldn’t sit, my good man. He’d work for you, and you wouldn’t even have to pay him.”

“I have all the men I need…”

“He could replace Martin.”

“I suppose he could, but that would arouse suspicion as well...”

“Not if Martin had to leave because he joined the City Guard.”

“But..”

“The lad is fifteen, right? He said he was when I offered him the post a half-hour ago.”

Talis gave a resigned sigh.

“I see you've thought of everything,” he said.

“I try to.”

The two men sat for a while longer, mostly eyeing each other in silence. Talis was relieved when the elf finally took his leave.

“Martin,” he called to the boy, once the Viscount and his bodyguard had been sent on their way.

“Yes sir, Master Senna sir,” said the fair-haired lad, in an apologetic tone. “About taking up the offer to join the Guard...”

“No, that’s fine, really,” said Tallis, not looking at the boy.

“I mean it’s just that I would have to look for something else to do eventually, and...”

“I said it’s all right, Martin. I quite understand.”

“Oh.”

There was an awkward silence. Tallis kept his eyes fixed on the staircase. Two men, visibly dishevelled, descended and staggered towards the door, singing a drunken verse whose refrain went

We came so much, she needed a glass,

To swallow it all, she did not pass,

And she’s the finest whore in Thedas”

“So you’ll be living in the Barracks up in Hightown?”

“I suppose so. They said it’s six months of training and then they start assigning me to a senior officer. If I’m any good, I’ll get my own command after I complete three years.”

“Yes, it will be good if you survive. I wish you well – we all do, you know.”

“Yes sir.”

“When do you leave?”

“I was thinking in the morning, sir, seeing as how I don’t have much by way of possessions to gather or...”

“Yes, you’re right. The earlier the better no doubt. That’s fine. We wish you well, we all do.”

Martin observed the older man in silence. It was not like Talis to be vague and repetitive.

“You’ve been with us for nine years, you know, Martin. You were a little child running around Lowtown when I took you in.”

“And very grateful I am that you did, sir.”

“Yes, yes. It was Sally who brought you, you know. She wishes you well. We all wish you well, you know.”

Martin nodded. He knew they all did.

“Well, um...you should probably take the rest of the night off.”

“All right.”

“There will always be a table for you at the tavern, Martin.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“And, uh, you should probably see Sally before you go.”

“She will be busy, sir.”

“I’ll have someone knock on your door when she is finished.”

Martin took his leave of Talis and headed out of the tavern towards the stables. He had a small room next to the horses’ stalls where he slept. Entering it, he began to gather his meagre possessions in a cloth bag. That done, he curled up on his straw-lined bed and soon fell asleep, his dreams full of swords and deeds of valour.

Back in the tavern, Talis continued at his post behind the bar, cleaning glasses and serving the occasional patron until about an hour past midnight, when he shut the door. Around two hours later, Sally’s last customer having left, he went upstairs to her room.

Entering without knocking, he found the woman stretched out on her bed, her eyes closed and signs of her customer’s presence very much in evidence. Her entire torso was seemingly drenched in seed.

“Sally,” said Talis urgently.

She opened her eyes.

“Oh hello, Talis,” she said, quite nonchalantly. Getting to her feet, she began to wipe herself with a wet cloth.

“Had a good day?” he asked.

“Oh yes, quite wonderful,” Sally smiled, wiping her oversized breasts.

“I just came to tell you that Martin will be leaving us,” went on Talis.

“Oh really? Where is he going?” she asked, now pulling on her smallclothes.

“Joining the City Guard. Dominic came and offered to take him on while his master was in here making love to you.”

“Oh. Why would he take notice of our Martin, though?”

“We’ll be getting a new man in place of Martin, you know,” said Talis, ignoring her question.

“Oh, how nice. The Viscount’s office is taking notice of us.”

“Yes, they are,” said Talis.

“How old is the Viscount’s son?” asked Sally, pulling the soiled sheets off the bed.

“He comes of age next month. The Viscount will have quite the ball, no doubt.”

“I should go catch up with Martin before he goes.”

“Yes, you should,” agreed Talis. “The boy would appreciate it.”

She wasted no time, pulling a cloak over her body and hastening downstairs. She knew her way around the premises well enough to be able to find her way to Martin’s room in the dark. The room had no latch, and opened at a slightly firm push.

Martin started out of his slumber as he felt a warm body press against his. It was dark, but he did not have to use his eyes to know who it was. He was well-acquainted with her scent, the mixture of the sweet smell of rose petals and the pungent odour of the men who had her.

“Sally,” he exclaimed, half-rising.

“In the flesh,” she replied. He felt rather than saw her light a candle and place it on the floor.

“I was going to come to meet you in the morning,” he said, breathing sharply as he realised that she sat wearing only her small clothes. With equal parts arousal and admiration, he contemplated her perfectly muscled stomach. In the dim light, it struck Martin that with her elongated and pinched waist, she looked rather snake-like.

“You know I like my beauty sleep by daylight, Martin,” she smiled. “And I did not want to miss you.”

They sat for a while, contemplating each other.

“I will miss you, Martin.”

“I will miss you too, Sally. You’ve been a good friend.”

“So they will teach you to fight with a sword and stuff, then?” she asked.

“I guess,” he replied. “That’s kind of the point of being a guard, isn’t it?”

“And you’ll be a loyal henchman of the Viscount, then, I guess.”

“I suppose so.”

“Yes. You know, I suppose it is fitting. I mean, your father was a City guard too.”

Martin’s eyebrows rose.

“You never mentioned you knew my father!” he exclaimed.

“He was a member of Lady Darlene Hawke’s personal guard. After her defeat, they put him in the gallows with the rest of the guard who were loyal to the Hawke family. They used to often have us girls over there for the use of the soldiers who were running the show until the Holy Empire placed their Viscount on the throne. I used to pleasure your father sometimes when the soldiers were distracted – very handsome man he was, too. Finally he caught a wasting disease, like so many of them, but before he died, he told me about you, and how he had sent you out of the barracks to mingle with the urchins in Lowtown when he realised that there was no hope of winning the battle. I kind of promised him I’d look out for you – and the best way to do that was to bring you in to work with old Talis. And now, here you are.”

“Why did you never tell me this before!” he asked angrily, rising to his feet and pacing the floor.

“You never asked,” she shrugged. “And it never seemed important. He left you no message, you know. Nor did he tell me who your mother was or anything. I only remembered about it when Talis told me you were to join the Guard. Do your duty, Martin, and make your father proud.”

Martin shrugged and looked at the floor.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Look after yourself, Martin. It’s a dangerous job, and I’d hate to think of you putting yourself in danger.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“I suppose we won’t be seeing much of each other now.”

“Why not? Don’t the men of the City Guard come to fuck you?” asked Martin, his voice curt.

“Well yes they do.”

“But you won’t take me if I come, right?” he asked.

“No, I mean...” she sounded apologetic.

“It’s all right. You brought me in, got the old man to give me food and a place to sleep. That’s fine.”

“What are you going on about, Martin?” she asked in an even tone.

“You know I love you, Sally!” he near-shouted.

“Martin, you’re fifteen,” she replied. “You don’t know what love...”

“How old was Charl when he first came to you? Or Gideon? Amory?”

“Those boys just wanted to lose their virginity, Martin...”

“Every boy in Kirkwall has you as soon as they have enough money to pay you and are old enough to know what to do with their cocks.”

“Martin...”

“But not me, right? What’s it about me that you don’t like?”

“Martin, if you would just listen...”

“Go away, Sally.”

She rose to her feet and pulled her cloak around herself. She made a move for the door but then stopped herself and, walking back to Martin, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Their lips remained locked for what seemed like an eternity to Martin, whose emotions suddenly welled up and broke forth in a torrent when she finally pulled away.

“I love you, Sally,” he whimpered. “I’ve loved you for so long...I don’t care that you sleep with all those men or that you don’t love me...just – let me love you, Sally!”

“Martin,” she said, her voice soft but her tone firm. “You are going to start a new life. Study your craft, learn to use a sword, be the best fighter you can be. You’re a good boy, and you will be a good man. To waste your life loving a ten-silver whore would little become you. If you persist in this folly, I shall have no choice but to leave Kirkwall.”

“Where will you go?” asked Martin incredulously. “Whoring is outlawed throughout the rest of the Empire. The moment you are out of the Viscount’s protection the Chantry and their dogs will have you executed.”

“I can only stay if you promise not to return.”

“I will not stop loving you, Sally,” said Martin determinedly, as he watched her open the door. “But fine, I promise I will not look for you here.”

“Thank you, Martin. You will thank me one day. Good bye.”

She disappeared into the darkness, leaving Martin glaring after her. A gust of wind blew out the solitary candle, and darkness engulfed him too. 


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