“Welcome.... to my
fanfic...” Said the author RVincent to his readers, leering over them while they
sat as his feet. He took a moment to dip his head even further foreword, the
bangs of his hair shadowing out his face in the ill lit room, his readers shrank
back a bit, somewhat disturbed by his torn clothing and unwashed smell. He
smiled, one of his teeth showing over his lip causing a reader in the front row
to shiver before he continued, “First off, NO CHILDREN!” A smaller reader in the
back row got up and ran for the door, two gargoyle statues juxtaposing it
suddenly shot flame from their mouths and the child was no more. “Simply put, if
you are under 18 years of age please leave, NOW!” This time a thunderous boom
was heard and a person somewhere in the middle of the crowd exploded in a shower
of blood and icor. The audience looked at RVincent shocked for a moment and he
sweat-dropped, “Well.... she was under 18...”
Once again everyone looked back at the spot where the underage reader sat, before focusing their attention on RVincent yet again. He waved his hands wildly in the air as if beseeching the gods, “These characters are not mine O great creator, I mean no copyright infringement, I do not own them, I make no money off them, they are property of the almighty Hajime Kanzaka, I am not worthy!” RVincent’s body went limp and he dropped to the floor in a heap, the assembled audience sat up a bit to get a better view when one of his blood-shot eyes shot open, causing a collective gasp. Slowly he sat up on his rear end, pulling a book out from under the makeshift podium/soap box he had been standing on and placed it on his lap, “Now listen up, this Slayers fanfic contains graphic descriptions of adult situations of the sexual kind, and there’s some underage stuff too, do you understand?” The entire audience nodded their heads in unison, satisfied he continued, “If you don’t want to hear about such things please leave now.... you will not be destroyed this time.”
One person in the back row stood up and reached down, grabbing his friends hand and hauled him to his feet, the two looked toward RVincent then to the door, then back toward RVincent, slowly they backed up toward the exit, not taking their eyes off the malicious author. All the while the authors’ smile widened but they made it to the door unharmed and darted through it, immediately another, this time in the front row, jumped up, springing over the denizens in between and ran through the open door. “Now without any other interruptions.... allow me to start my story.... It starts out in a forest, not far from a main city but still quite secluded, especially late at night...”
Fade from dark nothingness to a
shot of a full moon against the midnight blue sky. Begin the screaming! Camera
pans down to a clearing in a forest, trees are on fire, craters are abundant,
and people are scattering everywhere, some charred, some unconscious, and some
dead. The camera focuses on one man, backing up on the seat of his pants with a
frantic look in his eyes, the shot is wide enough so you can still see the
carnage around him but he is most definitely the focus still. “Wha... what do
you want from me! I’ll do anything, I’ve got kid’s! Please!!! Let me go!!
Whatever you want!” Camera whip pans around to show Lina from a low shot making
her look huge. She looks quite evil too and is bouncing a sack of coins up and
down. They land solidly in her hand and she clutches her fist around them then
tosses them to the bandit. The shot follows the coins and when they land in his
hand he looks up perplexed. Camera cuts back to Lina still looking quite evil.
“Make me dirty.” She growls menacingly. Looking more evil as the sentence
finishes, cut back to the bandit who looks terrified and does an audible big
gulp, meanwhile Lina’s maniacal laughter picks up to unheard of proportions.
Cut once again, this time to the opening title....
Que up Slayers OAV music (Lets say.... Run all the Way)!!
[The Terrifying Personality Reality Check!]
“Amelia’s Love Affair with Justice!”
Saillune has always been a
beautiful city, even as it was five years ago when this story takes place.
Prince Philionelle was doing a great job running his kingdom even in the wake of
his wife’s death. On top of that he was dealing with the disappearance of his
older daughter better than any of the royal advisers could have imagined. Some
say he made up for any amount of depression he might have felt by constantly
doting on his younger daughter, Amelia. After the duel tragedies there was a
time when he hardly left her side. Constantly checking up on her when he had
other things to attend to, afraid she would somehow be spirited away. However
all of this love directed toward Amelia was not a burden to her, actually it
made her love for her father even stronger. It was a synergistic effect and when
they were in one another’s presence everything was right with the world.
So it was not a surprise that on the birthday of his cherished daughter, he would go all out. The preparations were made months in advance, in truth almost tailing on the end of her last birthday. People had been hired to go outside their homes just before dusk the night before the monumental day with the decorations to put up. When Amelia watched the city the night before her big day, a party was the furthest thing form her mind. She swept the streets through half slittled sleepy eyes taking in the city lights. Her and her fathers city. She felt safe here, Saillune was the center of justice and peace in what was otherwise a terribly vicious world. Slowly Amelia’s eyes shut for the night and she slept peacefully all through the darkness.
The day had been officially declared a royal holiday, the royal coffers giving everyone the day off with pay. So the people were in high spirits to begin with, let alone the fact that they truly loved their Prince and his daughter. However, despite the fact that festivities were beginning before dusk, everyone managed to kept quiet for the big surprise. Many of the towns people were terribly excited, they had been looking foreword to this day for weeks, all of their preparation made during the few days when Phil had sent Amelia to visit relatives. During that time the ‘war plans’ had been set out. Boxes of decorations were moved in the dead of night and maps were made, sections of the city were assigned, Amelia knew nothing of any of it.
Just like every morning the gentle
sun filtering through the curtains was enough to wake Amelia up. She greeted the
day with a smile and stretched a bit. As she did she caught a glimpse of
something outside the window. She put on some slippers and pattered over to the
ledge to look outside parting the curtains totally out of the way. As it dawned
on her, her smile only grew bigger, “I didn’t know we were having a fair today!”
She squealed with delight to herself, opening up the window wider and climbing
onto the windowsill so she could get a better look. The cooler morning air
rushing in making her feel entirely refreshed.
Outside in the crowd one of the pedestrians caught sight of Amelia, then the banner underneath her that proclaimed in huge letters -Happy Birthday Amelia!- then his sight went back to Amelia, then the sign, then back to Amelia. Then his brain finally caught it. He pointed up and shouted “It’s the Princess, Princess Amelia is awake!” Every person in the crowd, man woman and child turned almost in sync and looked up toward the window where Amelia was perched, who was now somewhat uncomfortable from the sudden attention. Down below a small in an ornate gilded jacket ran up on the podium with a conductors wand. He tapped it on the wood a few times and cleared his throat facing toward the crowd, then rose it in the air. The whole crowd in one voice jubilantly shouted out, “Happy Birthday Amelia!” Then they broke out clapping and yelling their appreciation.
Amelia’s jaw dropped a little bit but she didn’t have long to contemplate, her father rushed in suddenly and went straight to her, gathering her up in a big warm hug. Whatever she had felt before faded, washed away by the love for her father. Her smile came to her in full force and she hugged back with all of her might, “Happy birthday sweetheart...”
She pulled back with her eyes moistened a little bit. “Thank you daddy.” She turned her attention from her father and looked to the doorway. Her smile widened even further, “Uncle Christopher, Uncle Alfred!”
She dropped down off the window sill and ran to the door, being double hugged by both of her uncles. They both bent over a bit to get a better grip on their little niece and couldn’t help but smile, Amelia’s happiness was quite contagious. Both of her uncles almost simultaneously wished her a happy birthday and she hugged back even harder in response. Her hug tightened just a bit more before she finally pulled away. During this time her father had caught up and was now right behind her.
She felt him there and tilted her head all the way back, nearly loosing her balance in the process. Finally the front of her fathers face came into her vertical field of vision and she stopped tilting. He father couldn’t help but chuckle a bit as his daughter continued being cute. He reached down and turned her around, then hefted her up. He turned his right arm inward, crossing his chest and set Amelia in the crook of his elbow, holding her up high. She in turn reached around his neck giving him a loving hug but also securing her sense of balance.
Amelia turned back toward her uncles who watched the whole scene somewhat amused. Christopher was the first one to speak, “Well Amelia, today’s your big day and we’ve got a lot planned, but first... you should get dressed.” Amelia looked down at her attire, a large oversized shirt and a pair of slippers, and blushed a bit.
Her father gave a hearty laugh and set her down, “Amelia, we’ll just leave you alone for a few minutes to get ready, don’t hurry though, it’s your birthday and we’re not going to start anything without you.” Phil finished with a wink, bending down at the waist and setting her gently on her feet. Before leaving though he gave his daughter a slight kiss on the forehead before following Christopher into the main room.
As soon as they left the room Amelia couldn’t contain her excitement any more, her smile stretched to huge proportions and she hopped back and fourth between her feet, squealing and clapping her hands together. She did settle down a little bit, but still stayed at an emotional level higher than she had previously occupied before her father and uncles had left. She looked around a little bit and found the clothes that one of her chambermaids had left out for her. She quickly got dressed in a reasonable facsimile of what one could recognize as her signature outfit then went to the window to wave at her townspeople some more, who were more than eager to return the attention with uproarious cheering.
However the beginning of the day was actually the low point of all the celebrating. Constantly throughout the day Amelia was surrounded by well wishers and showered with gifts. Which quickly added up in the castle for her to open at the banquet to be held later that night.. And never for a moment did the smile leave her face. She even had a parade. Her father held her high above his head and he himself stood on a large wagon decorated with silver and gold and emblazoned with the family crest. For several hours they went through the city streets being showered with confetti non-stop, Amelia never got used to all the joy she felt, and every time another peasant cheered for her, or her father lifted her higher, she was washed over with great feelings all over again.
Amelia couldn’t believe how fast
the day had gone by. The sun was already beginning to set at the outskirts of
the city and the magic guild was out casting lighting spells at all the street
corners. By the time she noticed the late hour though, her royal entourage was
already on the most direct path to the castle. Everything being planned out to
the most insignificant detail. Amelia sat back with a smile in the ‘princess’
chair she had been sitting in for the latter part of the day, a velvety cushy
chair with a large banner attached to it that read [Happy Birthday Amelia].
They made their way through the gates just as the sun went down. She squinted a bit in the fading light to make out the gate guards kneeling down, and giving her their best wishes. In return she managed a large smile and an over-exaggerated wave that brought smiles to their faces. Entering the castle grounds, Phil once again thanked the peacefulness of the city of Saillune that allowed all the peasants following them to enter without any break in the festivities. And so they continued toward the castle, the crowd growing as they went.
The wagon stopped directly in front of the palace doors and the assembled masses cleared a path for the princess, off to her left a set of stairs folded down to the ground, and one of the servants lowered his head in respect, motioning for her to take the path before her. Amelia smiled wide, an impulse striking her. She stood up in her chair and pointed in the air, “Hey everyone, watch this!” She called out as she crouched low then shot herself high into the air. Her form contorted and she effortlessly managed three flips, however, halfway through her fourth she struck the ground face first.
Every single person in the crowd went dead silent. Many covering their mouths in shock, or to suppress laughter. Price Phil couldn’t hide his smile though as he quickly descended the stairs and scooped up his daughter as she muttered, “Oww oww ouch...” A large red square forming over her face just as the crowd saw it again. She looked out at everyone standing silently starring at her, and composed herself as much as she could. She forced out a little laugh and gave a victory V and the whole crowd broke out in a cheer. Her father patted her on the head and tussled her hair a bit as he turned and started carrying her down the unfurled carpet and past the castle doors.
Though a little embarrassed from her blunder, Amelia still felt herself overcome with elation when she saw the tremendous heap of presents now in the main room of the castle. Throughout the day they had arrived while Amelia toured the town. Her father bent down a bit and sat her down on her unsteady feet. She wobbled a bit, still overwhelmed with the turn out of presents. She took one shaky step forward, then another, then, after a moment of hesitation, broke out in a run for the far off pile.
She ran around the pile in a circle, looking to the top, “Wooowww...” She said to herself, her pace picking up. After running around the pile three, then four times she decreased the diameter of the circle she was following and ran right up to the first present that caught her fancy. A small bright red one with a green ribbon, standing out from the rest of the pile both in color and conspicuous placing.
But just as she was about to tear into it her father finally caught up to her and held his hand between her and the present. She stopped in her tracks, teetering a bit but catching herself in the end. She looked up slowly at her father who was now holding his hands down and out, toward Amelia’s head like a barricade. Eventually Phil opened his eyes and dropped down his guard. Seeing the look in Amelia’s eyes he answered her question as quick as he could, “My you’ve got a good eye but we’re going to save this one for last, okay?”
Amelia smiled back, “Okay daddy!” Then she looked back to the pile, “I can open any other one though, right?”
Phil looked down at his daughter then gestured back to the pile, “All these are yours aren’t they?” Phil responded with a smile. Amelia’s smile doubled in intensity and she hopped up and down a few times smiling before making the leap almost into the pile.
Watching his daughter from a distance now Phil let out the breath he had been holding. He looked back to the package that was in his hands. Again his thoughts were brought back to if he was doing the right thing or not. But he chided himself. Amelia was quite grown up for her age and she was wholly a defender of justice. This gift could do nothing but better her life and possibly entertain her a bit. Again convinced as to the validity of his course of action, Phil took another look at Amelia who was now practically swimming through the mound of presents, then he turned and headed off away from the festivities for the moment.
“All I got were clothes again!!!!”
Amelia whined, looking over the ‘plunder’ from this years birthday party.
Actually, that statement didn’t reflect every gift that Amelia had received, but
to her chagrin, it did reflect the very large majority. Phil sat down next to
his daughter and her pile of clothes. He was very proud of her, she had been
disappointed, but held it inside until the assembled masses had left, a very
good trait to have in most affairs of the castle. In the background the servants
took the clothes and properly folded them for future storage while Amelia
Phil draped his arm across Amelia’s shoulders and dropped his large body down a bit to somewhat engulf her. She turned slightly toward him in response and encircled her arms around him best she could. “Amelia, you’ve had a long day, how about you head off to get ready for bed?” Increasing the tightness of her hug slightly to indicate compliance she eventually pulled away nodding before heading off toward her room, leaving Prince Phil with the bulk of Amelia’s presents. Looking them over he signed. Obviously, although the intentions of the townsfolk were good, they didn’t know his little girl well enough to know that she tended to like swords and shields more than dresses and makeup. As his gaze passed over the presents a sudden revelation dawned on him. Eagerly he galloped over several feet, pulling out the red wrapped present. His smile doubling in intensity he nodded before heading off to pay a visit to his daughter.
“Amelia…” Phil called out lightly, giving Amelia’s door a few slight taps before pushing it open from its slightly ajar position. He took a moment to stare at his daughter. No doubt she had heard him enter but she was still taking a few moments to finish getting ready for bed. Pulling up her pajama pants and tying them at the waist before turning to her father. “Oh, I see you’re ready for bed already…” Phil paused a moment before continuing, still holding Amelia’s interest, “But I have one more present you neglected to open…” He presented it from behind his back with a flourish, causing Amelia’s eyes to light up as she recognized the bright red wrapping paper and the malachite green ribbons surrounding it.
“What is it daddy?” She squealed out, bounding over across the room.
Phil chuckled, “You’ll just have to open it up and see won’t you?”
Nearly shaking from excitement, Amelia reached out and took the present from her father. It was not that large but still sizeable, perhaps three of her hand widths across and the same number of hand lengths top to bottom. The striking characteristic though was its weight, heavier than clothes, less heavy than stone. Amelia could have analyzed it further but opted to just tear into it. Shredding the red paper into red ribbons in just as many seconds as it took for her to initially cross the room. Phil’s smile dropped though as he watched his daughter expectantly. In her hands she held a book, old for sure, but not nearly worn out, just showing through the oiled leather a degree of age. “The villain and his deeds…?” Amelia tried experimentally, putting her reading skills to the test.
“Very good Amelia!” Phil’s happiness bubbled over as he took in Amelia’s smiling face. Taking the initiative he scooped her up in a bear hug. Holding her tightly against his chest a moment before putting her back down. “Be careful though..” He started, using considerable effort to stay stern with his adorable daughter, “That book is not meant for children, but champions of justice!” He finished dramatically swinging his hands into the air and posing in a half-crouch. Amelia nodded, viciously agreeing with her fathers’ testament to her justness. He nodded back, “There are those in the court that would not agree with you learning these things at your age…” He started, continuing with righteous indignation, “But those people do not realize that for you to fight against evil and its temptation, you must first know what you are fighting!” Again, he spun to the opposite site, striking another powerful pose before completing his triad, “And I trust that, in the future, with the help of this book you will be able to seek out and destroy evil at its heart!”
The excitement was almost too much for Amelia, she felt so virtuous. “Yes daddy!”
Opening his arms wide Phil brought Amelia into another hug, “Oh Amelia, you make your father proud…”
She clung to him even tighter in response, “daddy…” She cooed out into his embrace before he finally set her down on the ground.
Moving in and giving her a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Now, you sleep well Amelia, and I hope you had a happy birthday.” Seeing her nodding Phil knew things had gone well despite his fears throughout the day. He gave her one last smile, then he was gone for the night.
Despite her lingering happy mood though, Amelia had to give a sigh, the weight of the days events finally taking a moment to crash down on her. It had been exhausting to say the least, hours on her feet showing off for the crowd… Dragging her feet a little, her pep fading she made her way over to the vanity. Casually she pulled her shirt off over her head and grabbed a looser bed shirt made of silken material, pulling that over her head and immediately feeling all the more comfortable for it. The rigors of the day were still there all the same, she raised her hands up over hear head giving an extended yawn-stretch maneuver before finally settling down, her tired state suddenly apparent in her watery eyes. She eventually stumbled over to the bed before tossing herself into its cushy confines.
The mattress itself stuffed with feathers was one of the softest things Amelia had felt in all of her life. A close second was the tan down filled comforter and an even closer third would be the fleet of baby blue down filled pillows along the upper half of the bed. To say the environment was conducive to sleep would have been and understatement. But despite the urge to just close her eyes and nod off for the night, Amelia stretched out off the bed and grabbed the book she had just received for her birthday. She inched back more toward the middle of the bed so she would have a spot for the book next to her, and laid it down, propping her upper body up on a few of the pillows so she could look down at the volume.
It was at that moment she was interrupted by one of her maids who decided to make their entrance. “Princess Amelia, you should really be getting to sleep soon, you’ve had a long day.” The maid blustered as she made her way into the room.
Just the thought of sleep made Amelia yawn, she tired to mutter something out, but the yawn rendered it unintelligible and seeing the maids questioning eyes she felt compelled to repeat it. “I’m going to go to sleep in a few minutes…” The maid nodded, somewhat happy with the response and made her way around the room, snuffing out some of the candles around Amelia’s bed, just leaving the two closest to her lit before silently making her way out of the room after wishing her a happy birthday yet again.
As the transaction between her and the maid had gone on though, Amelia kept sneaking glances at the book; there was eagerness there. But also Amelia didn’t want to read it openly, after all her father had warned her that some of the people in her court didn’t approve of her reading such a book, and as such Amelia assumed, likely within reason, that the doting maid might not approve of that nights reading material. Hence when she left Amelia impatiently opened the book. The binding cracked form the motion, a distinct sign of its age. But Amelia also noted that the book had been somewhat well cared for, the pages had yet to show noticeable dry rot and the letters were bold and still highly legible.
“To all of those that choose to fight for the right and just cause. The villain’s deeds are too num- number…” Amelia struggled with the word a moment, “..numerous!” She finally got out excited before continuing, “they’re too numerous to be contained in this work, however a true… justice seeker will always be able to see the nefar.. nefareus… nefarious” She pronounced soundly at last, happy with herself, “actions of the villain for the criminal he truly is.” She took a moment to admire the detailed woodblock print surrounding the text of the first page before turning it.
Against her fingers she felt the rough grain of the aged paper, sapping the moisture from her skin. Giving the slightest of cracks the page was fully turned, the cloth-like material falling flat onto the cover allowing the weight of the book to hold itself open. Her muscles had been tense as she excised special care with the text, her upbringing teaching her the proper way to handle older books and her lessons coming in handy yet again. Nervous with anticipation she looked over the new page revealed to her. At the top of the page in big script letters it simply read:
Taking a moment, Amelia traced her finger over the woodblock print on the page. The ink rose up slightly off the surface of the parchment and the fine details were nearly as apparent to her touch as they were to her eyes. Depicted on the page was a man shown villainous indeed. Thin as a rail he had hands like a lich, bony mandibles attached to lanky arms. He crouched low next to a church that was freshly engulfed in flames, fire pouring out of the steeple. And upon the mans face was a wily smile as his eyes apparently darted from side to side, looking for pursuers. Amelia scowled slightly at the picture, her righteous blood beginning to simmer at this evildoer apparently getting away with a nefarious deed.
The arsonist is a criminal of the lowest sort; attacking in the dead of night he does his damage without fear of retribution and has no moral standing on his actions. He does this because, like all evildoers, he knows he is corrupt and deserving of any punishment heaven is to bestow on him, but he fears this punishment and so commits his deeds while others sleep in a most dastardly way.
Amelia continued to read the
passage. Occasionally out loud but mostly to herself as the hour was already
quite late. Several pages in length it outlined the moral dysfunctionality of
the arsonist and culminated with the justification for their punishment, death.
Death though seemed a bit much to Amelia. She thought about it for a minute,
thinking about the moral implications, if one person could even put another
person to death, no matter how heinous the crime. Her righteous mind was divided
on the subject, seeing it as both the ultimate justice, and not a justice that
one person should be able to bequeath on another.
The contents of the book were richly illustrated with woodblock prints and accented with gold leaf. Overall they served to slow Amelia’s pace through the work, causing her to slow down to appreciate their atrocious depictions of the villains work. Her thoughts on distributing divine justice though crystallized during the next chapter. Considering her position and her fathers position in the kingdom it would come as no surprise that the image of an assassin would invoke some fear into the young Amelia. Especially the passage specifically stating that princes and kings were usually the targets for such a diabolical plot. Amelia bit her lip as she read over the passage, clenching her tiny hands into fists over and over, her eyes watering from the emotion. Thinking of her mother and unable to imagine loosing her father as well, or even her grandfather.
It took her a minute to get her breathing under control, to prevent herself from crying at just the thought of such a loss after so much turmoil already in the kingdom….. eventually though she found the strength. But she was hooked on the book. She laid down on her stomach on the bed, putting the book right in front of her and propping herself up on her elbows she continued on. She had to skim through the rest of the Assassins entry though, finally happy to have passed it and fallen into the relatively safer entry titled:
The Con Artist
She had to giggle though at the
cartoonish portrayal of the man who looked way too evil to be able to fool
anyone. In one hand he held an apple, apparently brightly polished by the sheen
it had to it. Ahead of him an man was looking at it intensely as the con artist
talked while his other hand snaked around to an open satchel of coins on his
victims belt. After reading the description for the assassin, Amelia scoffed at
this criminal being described as petty and quick to scare. Still, this was one
of the enemies of justice, and her fervor that had started when she began
reading continued to slowly intensify. After all, she learned, this man could
steal all of a person’s money and leave them penniless and starving. Just as
easily destroying a life as if they were killed.
Flipping through the pages she came to realize con artists were boring villains. She needed something with some more oomph to garner her attention but the next chapter just served to disappoint her further. But nonetheless she read the chapter on the conspirator as diligently as the first, considering it her duty as a future defender of justice. So time continued to slip away as she passed into the next chapter. Another disappointment in her eyes even greater than the previous two. To say that the life of the counterfeiter was an evil existence was something that Amelia, in all of her innocence, could not see. But the pictures provided enough of a motivation to keep going. Not only accounting for the falsification of coin, but also of magical talismans and gems through magical manipulation.
And with all of these smaller crimes Amelia’s vigor for justice started to drop. The weariness of the day was weighing heavily on her, so, she promised herself just one more chapter. As fate would have it the chapter on the kidnapper was considerably more poignant then the previous chapters. The woodblock caught her off guard as well. In the usual pallet of black and tan were shown two females, bound and gagged, tossed onto the floor. And above them stood several rough looking men, menacingly holding swords above their captives. As Amelia looked over the picture she could see the fear in the eyes of the girl. And there was something else too, one of their shirts, the girls, their shirt was ripped down the front, her breasts spilling out, bound on each side by the same ropes holding her arms.
It was just a picture, but it brought up so many questions. What happened to the girls before they were kidnapped? What happened afterwards? Knowing that the picture couldn’t answer her question she dove into the text. Struggling to keep reading as fast as she needed to and having to sound out just as many words as ever. But it didn’t help. The text didn’t even mention the picture. It took the same disjointed look at the kidnapper as all of the other villains. Casually mentioning that the captives might be raped, or murdered. Amelia immediately flipped back to the previous page, starring at the two girls held in bondage on the floor.
“They might rape and murder them…” Amelia squeaked out, feeling her throat tighten as she looked at the captives. They couldn’t fight back at all. It was the pinnacle of injustice, a group of men doing what they will with two women like that…. Amelia seethed, again clenching her fist in front of her. Her chest feeling strangely heavy before she settled back down onto the bed, scratching her hip before reading more into the kidnaper.
...and with the captives helpless, the captors often take delight in
torturing them whist they await their payment. In many instances
these nefarious individuals may, without reason, see it fit to
remove fingers or other bits from the victims, delighting in their
screams in a way much befitting a demon. However if payment is never
to arrive, the captors often take out their anguish in increasingly
more unsettling ways. Repeatedly raping their female captives no
matter their age and outright murdering the males before moving on
to their next twisted goal.
Amelia’s throat tightened as she
read the passage again and again. Her mind flashing back to the cardinal point
of kidnapping. To kidnap someone who is a family member of a royal or well to do
family. Especially the youngest female whom the family would dote on, or the
youngest male in line for the throne both of which were prime kidnapping
targets. But, “…repeatedly raped… no matter the age…” Amelia’s position was not
lost on her and neither were these newfound consequences should she ever get
captured. She finished the chapter in a cold sweat. Luckily for her, her age
served as modest protection against what the definition of rape really entailed.
Still, such vile acts caused her to agree for the first time with the author
that maybe death was a fitting punishment for kidnappers.
As she was nearing the end of the chapter she couldn’t help but notice that the night was heavily wearing on. Even with no way to tell time Amelia could tell she was up way past her bed time and for a moment worry seized her as she thought about the consequences if her father were to find her up so late. She had no fear of being hit, but just the thought of his disappointment, it was crushing to Amelia. Glancing to the door she looked back and fourth between it and the text. After a moment of turmoil though she settled on finishing her chapter and finally getting some sleep, her eyelids were getting heavy anyway.
Even in this semi-sleep deprived state she still felt her temper rise again as she read the final passages on ‘The Kidnapper’. Finally comfortable with the flow and wording of the text she was making much better time despite the reading level of the work. Finally she smiled widely. Justice would prevail, that was the whole underlying tone of the last paragraph, and it made Amelia’s heart swell, the author knew just what she had wanted to hear through the whole thing. Despite this, there was the tiniest fear in her now, of her one day caught and tied up fearing for her life.
Amelia shook the image from her head. Out of curiosity though she turned the page to see what the next chapter in her book would be.
Whatever thoughts or mental bet
that Amelia had pertaining to sleep were squashed as she felt her heart rise up
into her throat. Again she glanced around the room as if, in the previous
seconds, someone had made their presence apparent. But seeing nothing she turned
her attention back to the book, suddenly feeling the sensation that she was
doing something she shouldn’t intensify. Her breathing changed in response to
the air of wrongness in the room, her breaths becoming quicker, and shallower.
There was just something about it though…. She felt the need to hide the contents of the chapter. She hefted the book and scooted back on her bottom until her back was against the headboard and she was sitting against it. Then propped up her knees and set the book on her belly so the spine of it was between her legs. Now more comfortable and with the contents of the book out of sight of anyone that might decide to walk in she opened it yet again to her section.
Before delving right into the text Amelia took several minutes going over the elaborate picture to the opening of the chapter. The details though were chaotic. Despite their intricate duplication with the wood block technique, the original artist had seemingly painted the background with no pattern. Random patterns swirled about and the heart of the work was brought into unique contrast by the inability to focus the background. The depiction though was simple, it showed two people, the victim, and the murderer.
There was no ambiguity as to who was which. Standing tall over a shorter man, the murderer was strongly built and wore a sinister sneer. He held his victims hand to the side with his own left hand, immobilizing it and with his right hand he had a knife thrusted into the chest of the unlucky man he was killing. And it was the expression that man bore that really shocked Amelia. Agony and terror… injustice, it was all captured there in an almost unreal reproduction of what such grief would look like in real life.
Amelia’s mouth was dry, she noticed it out of the blue and tried to swallow. Barely she pulled her lower lip into her mouth, pinching it lightly between her teeth as she started to read the tale of the murderer. And it was during this chapter she felt her righteous blood build up to a rumbling crescendo in her veins. Her whole body started to feel hot as she read about the injustice the murderer caused. How the murderer lived to destroy lives and was the bane of civilized existence. Her face flushed red with blood she read more into the chapter, the book had started to press uncomfortably into her stomach though, and as heavy book bindings are not known for great comfort when pressed vertically into anything it took Amelia a few moments of fidgeting to get it rearranged where it wasn’t pressing into her so painfully anymore.
The chapter was masterfully written, continually building as she read, murderers hiding bodies, stealing money, and being dishonest. Amelia herself summed it up fairly well, “…They’re like all the villains in this book… inside one person…” She muttered out in disbelief. But what could be a fitting punishment for such a person? She pressed on, page after page until the usual format of the book played out and she got to the punishment section. “Death…?” She muttered out, “How can… wouldn’t that make me a murderer..?” She couldn’t stop reading if she had wanted to but her mind was trying desperately to process how one could justify killing under any circumstances. But as the reading continued, and the unique methods of execution were described in varying detail, the fact that her breathing was becoming more an more hurried was something beyond her notice.
Amelia gripped the book tighter, the concentration that it took to read becoming greater every moment. There was something else too though, she didn’t want to read… something felt.. off. She finally gave up reading, her body hot all over when she realized she was nearly loosing her grip on the book. She tired to focus and to her surprise found that she was rocking herself against the book tightly. The binding of the book had somehow settled right between her legs and the weight of it there had been just right so that when she had started moving, she didn’t want to stop. “This feels…. nice..” She breathed out as she grinded her body up against the manuscript between her legs. Just as quickly though she completely let go of the book, the mass of the object causing it to fall back between her legs and to land solidly on the bed, held upright by the just edges still between Amelia’s thighs.
“Wha… what happened?” She managed out between gasps. Pulling up her knees more Amelia let the book drop totally onto the bed and onto its side. She was flushed, hot, and embarrassed, but she didn’t have a reason for any of them. Quickly, new fear was put into her over being caught, Amelia dropped her legs off the side of the bed and stood on the carpet surrounding her bed, grabbing the large book and running over to the shelf to put it up onto the shelf as high as she could reach before just as quickly darting back to the bed and turning out the light, covering up.
As she laid there though, she felt a strange throbbing where she had been rubbing up against the book, the kind of raw feeling one gets in their hands from weapons practice, and something more. She tried to think about something else. Murderers, arsonists, con artists… she had enough to dwell on to take her mind off the physical implications her body had bestowed on her. With her mind swimming with ideas and newfound knowledge though, not to mention an almost irresistible urge to spread justice, Amelia’s chances of getting to sleep before dawn were looking bad.
Turning to the side, Amelia tried
to keep the sunlight from her face, grimacing. “Ughnnn…” She groaned to herself
punctuating her lack of sleep. Overall she was more than a little disgruntled by
the suns quick arrival. Squinting through the sunlight she forced herself
upright into a sitting position and stretched lazily. Looking down to the foot
of her bed she noticed the servants had already laid out her clothes for the day
and her quick displeasure with the day only grew at the sight of the ornate
dress they had laid out, that could only mean one thing, “Politics again…” She
whined to herself, lifting herself off the bed and standing slothfully on the
Shuffling to the foot of her bed she grasped the bottom edges of her bed shirt which was hanging loosely off her frame, pulling it up and over her head with just the slightest bit of difficulty as it bunched up slightly around her neck. Pressing the palms of her hands tightly against her naked chest she ran them over her skin roughly as she stretched a particularly gratifying stretch, finally starting to feel awake for the day. Undoing the knot in the drawstring around her waist, her pants were soon to follow her shirt on the floor before she pulled on the undergarments associated with her dress, and knowing that she was out of her league, padded over to the door and called out for some help getting her dress on. After all, the task of tightening a corset and putting on such an elaborate outfit was at least a three-person job.
Within minutes Amelia had the assistance of two chambermaids to help her into her outfit and to look stunning while wearing it. While they worked on making her presentable though, Amelia’s mind started to wander toward her new book. ‘The Villain and His Deeds’ was unlike anything she had ever read before, it frustrated her, and it was at the same time exciting to read, yet it still served to make her angry. She turned her head away from her mirror and looked back toward the bookshelf, there, on the top she could just make out the edge of the book cover. There was just something about it…. She gulped at the thought and forced herself to look back at the mirror. But even when she wasn’t directly looking at the book she found it quickly filling her thoughts. Amelia wanted to look at it again, to read more.
Her father though had said that many people thought the book was too much for someone of her age. And that thought eventually started to creep to the forefront of her thinking process. Maybe it was too much…. She thought back to the way she felt, how she tried to hide the book in case someone had decided to come in, it didn’t feel right. The feelings it gave her, she’d never been so caught up in a book before, not even her adventure stories, and this one was written more like a dictionary. She couldn’t put her finger on what it was that was getting to her. Taking a deep, calming breath Amelia tried to pull her mind away from the book and focus on her reflection.
Such a thing though was proving more difficult than she thought it would be. Her usual pretense of starring blankly into her expression was almost impossible to achieve. Feeling a little flustered and starting to get upset she tore her mind from the book, forcing herself to think of something unconnected, to villains… and justice… and… Truth be told she was having a hard time not forming a connection to the book, even her father had a notable attachment to the object. Amelia knew it wasn’t right, her obsessing over something like that. She tightened her face, unable to hide her displeasure at the situation. Which incidentally sent her chambermaids scrambling to fix tiny imperfections that they had glossed over.
She decided, no, she vowed that she wasn’t going to look at the book for the whole day. There was no way that she was going to feel that caught up in something that for some reason seemed so wrong. Satisfied she found herself at least able to critique her reflection again, “Oh! Good job, I think this actually looks good on me!” She cried out, her low attention span a testament to her age.
For Amelia that particular promise
to herself would have proven very difficult to keep though if her duties as
princess to the kingdom did not keep her away from her room for the bulk of the
day. But when it came down to being her choice, weather to go to her room early
for the night and stow away with the book under the covers, or to spend more
time with her father as she usually did, she was torn. And it was only her
promise to herself that she would refrain form the book for the whole day that
kept her from going away to her room and spending the rest of the day and night
reading through its aged pages.
The temptation for Amelia just would not disappear, and eventually she started to justify it to herself. She did after all feel tired from wearing her dress all day. It was uncomfortable and she needed some rest in bed, it had been a long day after all. Such thoughts were percolating through her mind whenever the anxiousness for the sun to set hit. “Amelia…” Prince Phil asked softly, garnering his daughter’s attention after apparently shocking her for a moment. She turned to her side to catch his gaze, looking up from her lower stature in the seat was the only way she had a hope of meeting her eyes to his massive form.
“Yes daddy?” She questioned, hoping against hope he wasn’t going to ask her opinion on something he was just talking about.
“You seem a little distracted today daughter.” It was evident he was concerned, “Were you unhappy with your birthday?” His statement provoked by her evident disappointment the previous day at her piles of clothes, he knew his daughter well enough to know that, although she liked clothes, she would have appreciated greater variety in her gifts including some things perhaps more exciting.
“No… I really like all the things I got…” Amelia managed out a little unconvincing.
Phil in turn cleared his throat, “Well Amelia… don’t fret, there’s always next year right?” His large smile threatening to consume his features Amelia felt comforted, nodding slightly in agreement. Feeling relieved Phil pressed on, “You’ve had a long day, and perhaps you should retire early for the night daughter.”
The thought brought a bit of panic to Amelia, “No!” She shouted out a bit too loud before composing herself for a second and attempting a cover-up, “No… it’s just that.. I don’t feel tired yet..” She laughed it off and as luck would have it Phil at least attempted to buy it.
“Amelia, you are still a child, you needn’t worry yourself over such matters or push yourself too hard, you are much too young.” With his piece said Phil turned to face foreword again leaving Amelia to think for a moment.
Just as Phil was ready to settle back into business though Amelia spoke up again, something on her mind, “Daddy… how…” Phil’s attention now captured he turned back to look at his daughter and encourage her on. “it’s just… if someone does something bad… and will kill them because of it… doesn’t that make us murderers…?”
Despite the subject Phil’s face brightened up, “So you’ve been reading the book then.” He smiled back at her before continuing, “Here in Saillune we no longer have executions… that book was written in an older time when such things were common place.”
Amelia nodded lightly but continued her questioning, “So the Just never commit murder, right?”
Phil shook his head, “Amelia, in our world there are fiends of incredible debauchery, and when confronted with them, it is like a God posses your body and takes control, letting you rain down the Hammer of Justice upon them… it’s a righteousness unlike anything in this world, divine retribution… and we as servants of the Gods are channels for this Justice of the gods…” At her fathers impassioned words Amelia beamed, no, it wasn’t the Just that were murderers, they were simply doing the work of the Gods.
“Thanks daddy, that part confused me..” She trailed off feeling silly for having to bring it up at all but her father didn’t berate her for it and reached over and ruffled his hair.
“I’m so proud of you Amelia, you know you’re very intelligent to think about things like that at your age, I bet some of the nay sayers in the court that said will even be impressed with the knowledge you’re garnering from it on your own.” He laughed a little, “You’re growing up so fast…” As quick as could be noticed his eyes took on a misty sheen, tears hidden right behind his emotional front, “Your mother would have been proud too, you know that right?”
Amelia nodded, her own emotions starting to come to the forefront. Prince Phil wiped lightly at the corners of his eyes, removing any moisture there and masking his emotions with a deep laugh. “Just go relax for the rest of the day Amelia, I’ve dragged you to more of my meetings than usual and considering you probably stayed up much to late reading through the book that I gave you, I commend you on staying awake under such boring circumstances. Go ahead, head back to your room for the night and rest up, we have another full day before us tomorrow.” Phil stood up from his seat and reached down, sweeping Amelia into his arms, lifting her up and into a hug that she returned with a passion.
“Okay daddy…” She murmured into his heavy cloak, already feeling her weary body start to succumb to his body heat and comfort.
Although sleep had actually been
the goal for her visit back to her bedroom she found herself strangely awake
after her chambermaids had helped her strip out of her dress. Better yet a more
accurate description would be that she was forcing herself to stay awake and was
actually feeling more tired than when she had been held in her fathers arms. She
had taken up a space in her own bed, feet under the down covers starring off
toward the horizon. The sun there was below the tops of the buildings now, but
it was not quite yet set. And that is what she was waiting for. The minutes were
ticking by slower though as she glanced between the book high on her shelf and
the sun far on the horizon.
Trying to keep herself awake Amelia started rocking her feet under the covers, a strange sensation playing across her skin where the fabric was being repeatedly drawn over them, not at all unpleasant. She didn’t want to break her word, one part of her consciousness wanted to wait until the sun was distinctly set below the horizon before reading more into the book, another part though figured that as soon as the sun was below the roof tops then it would be fair game to consider the day over, and still another part of her mind protested that she was tired and falling asleep, the book could wait, why stay awake?
It was only the first two ideals that managed to make it into her coherent thought, and the first of the two seeming the more justified obtained her mental permission for clearance. In anticipation she made her way over to the bookshelf, standing on her tiptoes to get a clean hold on the book. With a tiny grunt she hefted it from the shelf and brought it down to press into her stomach, holding it from the sides like one would anything remotely heavy. Already though the book was having an effect on her, she felt… giddy. Amelia walked over to the bed and set the book down on it, then lifted herself up on the bed, crawling to the side of the book before moving her gaze back out the window to wait for the appointed time.
The sun was still some distance from dipping below the horizon but to pass the time she decided to flip the book to its proper spot so that she could begin reading as soon as the sun was down. Before she could though one of her maids came into the room. She looked a little surprised to see the princess awake, as far as she knew she had come to her room early to sleep. But she took it in stride and went to each of the candles, taking the time to light each of them and brining the level of illumination up in the room to what most would expect for reading. Not stopping she went to Amelia’s armoire and withdrew a pair of pajamas before unobtrusively making her way to Amelia’s bed and laying them out at the foot of it.
Finally she bowed slightly and gave a smile before excusing herself from the room and leaving Amelia to her own devices. With that out of the way Amelia felt inclined to open the book as she had previously intended. The sun had, in the meantime come closer to the horizon. She opened the book, the heavy scent of ancient paper tugging at her nostrils as she made her way through the pages. Amelia could see no harm in re-reading what she had before, it was nothing new… as far as she could reason it wouldn’t invalidate her promise…
Amelia made her way again to the kidnapper. Her eyes glued to the explicit, almost erotic woodcut there. Her eyes memorized the features of the girls, expectably the one whose attire had been sullied. Then she was again drawn to the kidnappers and their unmistakable sneers. She skimmed through the entry looking for parts that had caught her interest the night before and re-reading them through more than once. Finally she finished the Kidnapper again and flipped to her final reading from the previous night, the Murderer.
Her pulse continued to quicken as she skimmed through the pages. For a moment she caught a glimpse of the world outside and realized that the sun was below the horizon, she could press foreword in her reading so she read through some of the choice entries under the Murderer before finally finishing it, making her way deeper into the text.
It was the first real entry
pertaining to magic and the picture was the stuff of pure nightmares. Bony and
disheveled, patches of skin falling from his bones, a corpse was raised from the
dead. Maggots fell from its eye sockets and icor dripped from its stomach. Below
its intestines dragged, some still held in their lock in the ground itself. And
right there in the same picture was the Sorcerer himself. Hands held aloft
calling upon the power of some dark god to bring this person back from the dead.
Although the picture was horrific and made her sick to stare at the details. The necromancer himself lacked the villainous features that the other evil doers in the book had possessed. He looked relatively, for lack of a better word, normal, like any sorcerer. Still, the zombie… she shivered as she looked at its haunting decayed face. Eagerly she began to read the entry.
Necromancy, though common dark sorcery, is a travesty. A crime against all that is good. Necromancers possess the power to bring back from the dead a kind soul and force them into a life of nefarious deeds that would blacken any creatures sprit, even beyond the grave. They can force families to fight their own dead and send their minions out to consume the living for sustenance. Their power is as black as their intentions as many of their more powerful magicks involve human sacrifice, the ritualistic slaughter of infants, to bring about its full power…
Whatever doubt she had regarding
the villainy of the necromancer was washed away as she read the evidence at
hand. The book painted the villain with the same light as the other unspeakable
crimes, those of the murderer. There were also a number of tests that one could
perform on a person to test if they were in fact a Necromancer, all of them
seeming torturous in her uninitiated opinion. Some of the things the book asked
her to do… in the name of justice… she made a mental note to ask her father
about it later. What was special about the entry though was the mention of litches, which presented a special difficulty when dealing with the Necromancer.
Death was apparently too good for them. They were to be drawn and quartered,
burned, and finally their ashes buried in consecrated ground.
Amelia shook her head at the severity of the punishment but could not shake a sudden fascination with necromancers. She again turned back to the opening page of the section, looking over the Necromancer himself more thoroughly, his features, his dress. He was a real villain. Not just a murderer, but everything else too, someone that a defender of justice could go against with all of their might and test their mettle. Powerful too she realized. Her head swimming with the epic battle of good versus evil she made her way to the next section hastily.
This section followed the trend of earlier with a non-magical malefactor. The Raider. Bits of gold leaf from the pages edge had been chipped free on the main page for the raider, some of the flecks settled into the raised edges of the engraving on the page. Mostly in the upper portion of the picture, perfectly accenting the fire depicted there. A village engulfed in flames. The dead and dying laying about. It was a war scene. And among those few people living and on their feet were the raiders. They had with them all of the plunder that they had looted from the village, and in the background one of their party was apparently beating up one of the townsfolk.
At first Amelia was unfamiliar with the word but as she read into the definition she finally made an equation. A raider was like a bandit that went to war. They went in and looted whole villages instead of attacking the random passer by on a oft traveled road. They murdered, and plundered, burned and… raped. Again Amelia came across the word. She had hardly a clue what it meant but for some reason it reverberated in her head. This chapter was none too comforting compared to the previous chapters either. Instead of singling out the raider as something uniquely evil the chapter made a point of saying that anyone in a time or war might commit these crimes. Crimes against women and child.
She was getting fired up again. The burning feeling in her blood coming back after the ice water chapter of the Necromancer.
Finally, the punishment.
She swallowed hard again regaining her bearings. The book was starting to exert its effect on her again. Cautiously she looked around the room. Under the door frame it was black, the sun was gone and the hour was most definitely late for the torches in the halls to have been snuffed out. Amelia had been tired to begin with, but now… there was something else too. That feeling again. Her shoulder hurt from leaning over her book and she thought back to the night before. She hefted the weight of the book into her lap and leaned back into her pillows against the headboard of her bed. Positioning the spine of the book on her belly button then after a few moments shifting and bringing her knees up and pushing the book lower.
Again sheltered from prying eyes and comfortable she promised herself just as she had the night before to only read one more chapter. Anticipation hung heavily within her, carefully she wetted her fingers and turned the page….
For a moment Amelia couldn’t gather her thoughts. Rape. If she had no clue before the print on the page before her dissolved that innocence. This attacker, a large, unkempt man had thrown a woman down upon the ground. Or so it appeared. Her clothes where torn, her breasts exposed. She was crying, and he had a sadistic grin on his face. But there was so much more. The picture was very detailed, more so than any previous example in the book. The woman’s dress had been hiked up around her midsection, leaving her pelvic area exposed, and the man, his pants were down around his knees. And between them… despite her age she knew what that part was on a man but had no clue…
A Rapist is a man who forcibly has sex with a woman. Usually for his own lust the sex can be for other reasons too such as for humiliation or vengeance. If the woman resists, a Rapist may find it necessary to exercise their force, greatly injuring and occasionally murdering the woman in the process. Rapists often target younger woman and some have a propensity to indulge in the rape and murder of children, the most dastardly of the Rapists deeds….
She swallowed dryly as her eyes
darted between the text and the picture. She read through descriptions of rape
and the rapist. Ways that they would strip a woman or child… Even when she went
further into the chapter she continued to flip back to the woodcut. Focusing on
the look on the woman’s face, in her eyes. Vividly the violation was on display,
nothing was hidden. The weight of the book was becoming a bit much so she
shifted some. A few moments later she shifted again but found that she had been
moving the whole time almost unconsciously. This time when she realized what she
was doing she didn’t stop. She continued to grind into the book while reading
The trauma of rape was spelt out, not only for the woman, but for the humiliation of the woman’s husband. Her breathing was coming in little gasps as she finally finished the entry. Again, death. “Death is too good for them…” She mouthed out, “They should be raped…” She was hot all over.
Amelia flipped back to the original woodcut, running one of her hands over its grooved surface. She looked down though, what had started off as a pleasant feeling between her legs was beginning to ache from the pressure of the book, worn raw. She pitched foreword rolling a bit and getting the weight of the book off her while moving onto her stomach. She let the book drop onto the bed heavily and laid on her side, with her legs stretched out searching the picture. Her little tongue was working its way around in her dry mouth as she held the page open with one hand and lowered her other hand between her legs. There was a sore spot right beneath the waistband of her clothing where the book had been rubbing. She touched it and winced a little, satisfied at knowing what was hurting so much, but as she was about to move her hand from her pants she curiously touched a bit lower. It was warmer, and wet.
Her breathing was becoming labored now, she focused her eyes on the picture, where the woman’s dress had been raised up. The goal of the rapist. She slid her fingers around in the wetness finding an area different than the others. A hardened protrusion, warm and just as slick. And when she touched it… she bit her lip tightly. Unsure of weather it was pain or not she tried again, this time softer and indirectly. The feeling caused her to clench her buttocks and she did it again, and again. She didn’t want to move her eyes from the page.
Things were building. Worried that she might loose the feeling she was nonetheless spurred on the picture to experiment and try to find that spot on her, like in the picture. She tired lower, and lower. Finally she managed to come across an area deeper than the rest. A finger slid in with no resistance. Her tiny ring finger hardly stretching the opening. She stopped cold, “I can’t… rape myself?” She moved her digit in and out a few times, unable to control her actions any longer.
She put it out of her mind and gave into the fact that she was no longer in control. Amelia rolled onto her back looking up at the ceiling, pulling her shirt up to mimic the predicament of the woman in the picture before pulling her pants down to get a better angle. One finger within her and the other rubbing herself she imagined herself being raped. A large brutish man atop her while she squirmed beneath. “It’s not supposed to be like this…” Whether she meant that she should not be doing the act or that the act itself was not supposed to feel that good was unclear but she continued, finally it was too much, she clenched her eyes shut tightly, driving in an extra finger and arching her back she squealed out lightly, chokingly as she climaxed.
Half-heartedly she tried to get up after several minutes. But her body just was not responding. All of her exhaustion from earlier had just been aggravated by her activities. Amelia hardly had an ounce of strength left in her. She tried to at least roll over, but failed. Her body felt as if it were glowing hot and she tried to move but finally she had to succumb to the feeling, perfect, relaxed, bliss.
The princess jumped up as best she could with her legs partially immobilized from her pants around her knees. She’d never heard such anger in her fathers voice, ever! She looked around, her mind jumping erratically trying to take in her surroundings. She pulled her shirt down, wondering if one of her chamber maids had caught her, or her father, or… someone else. There was no time to dwell on it. “Oh, I…!” She cried out panicked. She tried to pull up her pants but could only get them part way sitting down. She twisted her body and tried to close the book as if nothing had happened but the damage had been done.
Prince Phil took a few long strides over to her and grabbed up the book, looking down at his partially naked daughter and tucked it under his arm. “I would have never… never expected this kind of behavior from you…” His eyes were cold, Amelia tried to defend herself but the words died in her throat, instead she just hung her head low, her eyes settling on her naked crotch.
“It may not be a crime in this book, but you should never touch yourself in such a way…” Amelia had never felt lower, each of his words like a hammer blow to her back made her pitch forward ever so slightly. She also noted to her dismay that the intensity of his beratement was unwavering, usually his softer side would be showing through by now… “Obviously my advisers were right Amelia, you were too young for this….” He let his tone fall off evenly before continuing. “Amelia, there are some things that you should not have to be warned about regarding their inherent evil connotations. What you did…” He could fully figure out what she had done based on her position and attire, “… you likely knew when you were doing it that it was wrong…”
“Daddy… I knew it was wrong… but it didn’t feel wrong…” She defended in a weak voice, still unable to bring her eyes to meet his.
“That is the nature of evil my daughter, it clouds your judgment. You think the villain is the way he is by choice? No. He was lured into that lifestyle through the seduction of evil. Evil is not always what it appears to be, it is a trickster and can easily entice even the strongest of us towards less puritan impulses.” His voice was more even now. He was more approachable.
Amelia nodded in response but remained despondent. “I’m sorry daddy..”
“Sweet heart… the fault lies with me alone…” Amelia turned to see her dads own downward gaze. Her heart aching at the sight of her dad being so distraught. She wanted to say more but couldn’t find the words. “You take your time getting ready honey, and I’ll be in the study when you’re ready to talk. But until you’re older, I’m taking this…” He shook the book under his arm and gave Amelia one more look, tears running down her face and splashing on her naked thighs, her hair hiding most of her features.
The door clicked with a certain finality causing Amelia to flinch. “Daddy…” She cried out, upset at herself. She sniffled and put her legs over the edge of the bed, dropping down to the floor and standing before pulling her pants up. Her mind went back to how she got into the situation, she wasn’t in trouble for the book. The book being gone wouldn’t help….
She told herself she was just checking out of curiosity and put her hand down her pants, feeling the spot that had been so wet the night before. Amelia touched herself just as before but the spark wasn’t there.
Perhaps the book had been the cause of things. She continued to play with the nub between her fingers noting that it wasn’t wet like before. Then there was a slight tingling as she rolled the flesh between her fingers, she rubbed some more, feeling the blood speeding through her veins…..
A feeling came over her like ice and she yanked her hand from her pants. “No!” She cried out, tears coming to her eyes, “No more, never again!” The image of her father on the verge of tears tearing through her mind. “This is an evil temptation and I will resist, I am a champion of justice, of virtue, and I will not succumb to this temptation ever again.” She tightened the drawstring around her waist, tying it extra hard, cutting into her skin, “Never again…” She seethed through clenched teeth before searching her room for the days attire, dreading what her dad was going to say while trying her hardest to block the shame and embarrassment of what she had done from her mind forever.
Outside Amelia’s door Phil leaned
heavily against the wall. Pulling the book out from beneath his arm he looked
over the cover. His mind inevitably drawn back to his youth and when he first
received the book way back then. He sighed loudly, trailing his fingers over the
cover and resisting the urge to wander through its pages. He knew them well
enough. Still, he couldn’t help but notice what page the book had been on when
he entered. “Rape…” He sighed out loud, “I had so much faith in her being
stronger than I had been…” And with that he tucked the book under his arm and
made his way to the study, the echoes from this foot falls muffled by the
elaborate tapestries covering the walls adorning the otherwise featureless
Actually it is Phil’s father that runs the kingdom but I really only seen references to this in the novels so I kind of made it as if Phil himself ran the kingdom. Though it is from Amelia’s view point on things and her father is the center of her world so it makes sense that she would see him as controlling the whole kingdom even if he wasn’t. This fanfic is the first in a series of fanfics falling under the collective title “The Terrifying Personality Reality Check!” Each one stands independently so I am not saying this series is going to be 5 fanfics long, 10 fanfics long, or even 2 long, just that it is open for additional chapters should I choose to add them, and if I don’t then this stands alone.
A great thanks goes out to Phizzy Chan for being my test reader and encouraging me to finish this work. The fanfic itself was inspired by the idea of Amelia taking her love of justice too far. Kind of in a way accounting for her obsession with it and also for her tendency to be so open with her exuberance but reserved about other things. Now, onto obvious matters that were not addressed previously, Amelia’s age. This was left intentionally vague, ‘Five years ago from when?’ you might be asking when you read the opening paragraph. Amelia is younger that is for sure, I actually don’t know how old the events in this fanfic would make her, her sister running off and her mother dead, no clue how old she should be. But this is a younger Amelia and that was the idea. Some people might be a bit disturbed by this, personally I left this fanfic in limbo for almost a year because I didn’t want to write that final culmination of this fanfic. But now it’s written. Take it for what it is, Amelia getting carried away with herself in an innocent way.
Anyway, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed it. Please, if you would like to read other stories by me visit http://www.destructve.com/rvincent to find more of my works. Or e-mail me at Rob.Vincent@gmail.com I’m always happy to get flamed or complimented. Believe it or not, if you are a non-writer, you might assume Fanfiction writers get at least some feedback. That’s a lie, I have written fanfics and over the course of several years never once gotten comments on them. I think my best so far is 10 comments short of my thread on the God Awful Fanfiction Archive. But I digress, thanks again and have a great day!
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