The Capture of Princess Angelica Calamitous
If Angelica hadn’t been born a princess, she would have become an actress. Whether or not she would be a good actress was debatable. Points in her favor: a loud voice and no stage fright. Points against: difficulty memorizing her lines, and an inability to share the spotlight.
When she volunteered to distract the patrol, she was the star of the show, and she would make sure everyone watched her. “Thank the gods you’re here!” she exclaimed, throwing herself into the arms of the nearest person—using the term loosely.
Her target was over seven-feet tall and covered in green scales.
They carried a spear, and each finger ended in long, sharp claws.
Yet they caught her gently, careful to prevent any injury.
They wore only a pair of black pants, leaving their clawed feet and their firm, muscled torso bare.
Angelica pressed one hand to their pectoral, measuring its impressive size with the length of her fingers.
She demurely gazed up through her lashes at her captor-slash-savior, examining their face. Their nose and mouth protruded in a slight muzzle with hints of sharp teeth behind green lips. A slit black pupil cut down the center of the yellow eyes gazing back at her.
“Are you alright?” The low, masculine growl of their voice sent a little shiver down Angelica’s spine.
A creaking noise in the distance drew the guard’s attention to the barn, exactly where it should not be.
“I’ve been so scared all alone in these dark, spooky woods!
” Angelica cried, raising her voice to drown out her companions’ escape.
Tears pooled in her eyes as she hugged one arm around the guard’s waist and pressed her head more firmly against their chest. The scales were smooth and cool against her soft cheek.
The heartbeat underneath sped up at the close contact.
Angelica hid a triumphant smile.
The guard couldn’t decide where to place their hands. They removed them from Angelica and held them a few inches away from her, as if afraid to offend her with their touch even as she clung to them.
That wouldn’t do at all. She needed their hands fully occupied so they couldn’t fight.
She squeezed them tightly around the middle and added an extra wail to her performance.
“I’m just a poor, defenseless damsel who needs a big, strapping man like you to protect her from the horrible monsters in the woods. ”
Finally, their hands settled on Angelica’s shoulders. “Princess,” they hissed solemnly, “I am one of the horrible monsters in the woods. Syb, Syth, the others are here somewhere. Find them.”
Dammit, and she’d been having so much fun. Since she’d been discovered, she immediately dropped to the ground. The slippery fabric of her dress helped her slide easily out of the guard’s hands. It also repelled the dirt as she rolled across the ground, keeping the dress nice and clean.
When she climbed to her feet, she didn’t run away. She was still the distraction, the bait. If she ran, she couldn’t guarantee the guards would chase after her instead of the others. Trey would never let her live it down if she failed this assignment after proudly volunteering for it.
The guard looked at their hands, shocked that their prey had escaped their grasp so easily. They stepped toward her, then paused. One of the thick vines coating the ground slithered toward them and wrapped around their ankle. They shook it off and backed away from it, eyeing Angelica warily.
None of the vines tried to approach her. In her studies, she’d learned about how some plants liked to grow up. Perhaps they were attracted to the guard’s height.
Angelica smiled, confidence growing as the forest offered her protection instead of opposition for once.
“I’d hardly call you a monster,” she replied, speaking at a normal volume.
She raked her gaze over their form, lowering and raising her head in an obvious assessment.
“Though I’m not familiar with your species. ”
“Lacertian,” they supplied.
The corners of her lips spread in a slow, suggestive smile. “And are all lacertians as handsome as you?”
Gold shimmered over their scales, what must have been a blush for their species. They coughed nervously and hardened their expression, narrowing their yellow eyes. “You can’t flirt your way out of this, princess. The Lord of Grimnight ordered us to bring you to his lair.”
“Oh no, whatever will I do.” Angelica placed the back of one hand to her forehead and the other to her bosom, drawing attention to her heaving breasts.
The lacertian’s eyes flicked between her face and her breasts several times. “Is this a trap?”
“Nooo, not at all,” she replied, dragging the words out. “Please, take me.”
“To … the lord?”
She batted her eyelashes.
While they tried to decipher her meaning, two other lacertians stumbled around the barn.
One of them had an arm slung over their companion’s shoulder, needing support as they limped along.
“Damn humans fight dirty,” they wheezed.
Their eyes widened when they spotted Angelica.
“You still have her, Sisyph? Oh no, no, no, I’m not dealing with this! I quit!”
“Calm down, Syb,” Sisyph said. They tried to walk toward their companions, but they had to shake off the vines twisted around their ankles. “What happened?”
“He kicked me in the cloaca,” Syb complained. “And then, while I was down, he would have stabbed me straight through if Syth hadn’t intervened. They’re vicious!”
“Was it Trey?” Angelica asked.
The three lacertians slowly turned toward her. Their expressions clearly asked, ‘why are you still here?’
“Red hair?” she continued, picking up one of her own blond curls and shaking it at them.
Syb nodded slowly.
“Yes, I thought so. He’s quite rude, even to us.”
Sisyph sighed and covered their eyes, as if they didn’t want to look at her anymore. They even went so far as to wave her off. “This job isn’t worth the measly payout. Go on, we’re not capturing you.”
Angelica scowled and planted her hands on her hips. “Unacceptable.”
All three lacertians stared at her in shock.
“You’re going to make me walk through the forest unescorted? What kind of gentlemen are you?”
“We’re not human,” Syth replied.
She flipped her hair over her shoulder and glared down her nose at them. Despite being significantly taller than her, they hunched their shoulders, chastised. “You don’t need to be human to show common decency.”
“We’re also mercenaries who serve an evil mage,” Sisyph reminded her.
“Exactly!” she declared. “I demand you properly capture me and take me to your leader.” She stamped her foot. “Right now.”
The three lacertians hissed at each other in their own language. As their words grew more heated, Sisyph eventually sighed, shoulders slumping. They’d clearly lost the argument. “Alright, princess, but remember you asked for this.”
She expected them to swoop her into their arms like a groom would his bride.
Instead, Sisyph bent down, wrapped their arms around the back of her knees, and flopped her over their shoulder like a sack of potatoes.
Her breath left her in a surprised whoosh.
Any ideas of continuing her performance immediately fled as the blood drained to her head.
“Does no one,” she wheezed, “know how to treat a princess?”
The lacertians ignored her and picked up their pace. Even if she’d wanted to speak, they wouldn’t hear her faint voice over the rushing wind.
She hoped the evil mage at the center of this plot had better manners—and taste—than his minions.