Any similarities to anyone living or dead is pure coincidence

Warning: this story contains scenes of violence and sexual content. You have been warned.

THE MONASTERY

By: StoryJunkie

Chapter 1: Unexpected Tryst

When travelers didn’t want to stay at the Inn between Achthillia and Grektar, they stopped at the Grey Monastery. Especially travelers that did not want anyone to know who they were or where they were going. The Monks were particularly discreet, and this was a valued trait to anyone like the King, or the Prince, or the Prince’s cousin.

John, on occasion, stopped at the monastery while accompanying his young charge, Wilhelm, the Crown Prince of Achthillia while they made their way to their summer home at the lake or on their way to visit the King and Queen of Grektar.

John had seen Elsie before, and had asked who she was. The holy ladies, the epitome of discretion, had never given out Elizabeth’s true name to anyone, for it was understood that she wasn’t part of the convent, but under its constant protection. Nor was John given the opportunity to be close to her, since he was considered by the monks to be hot-blooded.

Mother Superior knew that John might not like that Elsie was descended from Mages, considering the persecution the Mages underwent, and the prejudices that were prevalent regarding them. So she told him that her name was Elsie, and that she had been four when her parents had abandoned her. It wasn’t a lie.

John was twenty, and Elsie nineteen. Wilhelm was nine and Grafnon, far off in Grektar, was three. John knew that there had been whispered rumors that the kitchen maid at the monastery had carried a child not long ago, and its absence was sinister indication that all was not right at the holy domicile. He didn’t know whether to pay any attention to the rumor, since it seemed vindictive, although knowing about what people said about her made his eyes seek her out perhaps once or twice more than he normally would have.

Elsie noticed his regard, and blushed under it whenever she felt it, for when she looked at him and saw that he was part of the royal entourage, she saw that he was attractive, close in age and interested. Well, or at least curious. She didn’t want to flatter herself. After all, she considered herself quite plain compared to some of the court ladies she assumed he was used to. She was thin, her body lacking the curves she thought every man wanted in a woman.

When she went to her cell at night, knowing he was under the same roof, she found that sleep eluded her. She tossed and turned for a while, looking at the ceiling, gazing at the moonlight that streamed through the narrow high up window.

Finally, she got up, the cold stone against her feet making her reconsider. The warmth of her bed sharply contrasted to that of the floor. But she stood up with determination, the thin material of her gown barely enough to warm her body, and she went to the heavy wooden door and stood by it, her ear pressed against the planks for any footfalls in the corridor beyond.

The monastery was silent.

She ventured out, shutting the heavy door behind her with practiced stealth. There had been other occasions when she hadn’t been able to sleep, and a walk through the enclosed garden had always served to clear her head, and the fresh night air had made her sleepy.

Sometimes dreams came to her at night, disturbing in their content. Dreams of far-away places and strange rituals, of sinister figures and royal bedchambers, haunting images that faded quickly, yet left a taste of revulsion in her mouth. Nothing but the pure mountain air could dispel the disruption, and the garden at night she found particularly soothing.

But this time, it was not dreams that disturbed her, it was the memory of John’s gaze following her every move.

She quietly let herself out the kitchen/garden door, leaving it slightly ajar so that she might re-enter the stone edifice that she had called home for so long. The night air was cool, and she felt her body shiver. She hugged herself, pressing the thin material of her gown against her breasts, not knowing that they showed through.

In the brilliant moonlight of the clear night, the garden seemed ethereal and ghostly still. The sweet scent of the night flowers delighted her senses and she sat down on the bench just off the path in the middle of the garden. The grass beneath the soles of her bare feet was damp and cold, but softer than the hard stone of the monastery hallway. She took deep breaths, closing her eyes and lifting her face to the sky.

And that was how John found her as he made his way back from the stables. He was leaving in the morning with Wilhelm, the blond brat, and he wanted to make sure the horses were groomed and rested before they pushed on. He had checked his weapons also, making sure they were in readiness should anything untoward occur.

He glanced around as he walked, scanning the nearby area for any possible source of danger. Although he felt safe in the walls of the monastery (it was built like a fortress), it was his habit to seek the landscape for food, predators and enemies. It was one of the reasons he accompanied the Crown Prince whenever they made foray into the country. He noticed her white gown as if it were a blaze of light in the middle of the garden, and at first, he did not recognize who it was.

He stood there for a moment, realization dawning. He noticed the soft curve of her breasts, the thinness of the material, even her nipples as they jutted beneath her nightdress, and his body’s reaction to her presence. Her long dark hair cascaded in waves behind her, reaching to her hips. He had never seen her without braids, which made her seem like a twelve year old during the day. With her hair down, he realized that she was more mature than he had thought.

Without thinking, he stepped quietly toward her. His mind was blank. It was as if his feet had a mind of their own. He felt his trousers tightening. He had never felt more alive as he did at that moment, for his heart started to pound. He had no idea what he would say to her.

Finally, within a very short time, he stood close enough to her to notice that he could see the dark areolas around her nipples. He was shocked that her gown was so threadbare. It wasn’t even tied properly around her neck, as most maidens of his acquaintance constantly did. Instead, the laces were loose, allowing him a view of her modest cleavage. Her head was thrown back; her arms beneath her breasts pushed the small mounds upward.

He cleared his throat, and saw her eyes fly open.

When she saw who it was, her hand went to her throat and her eyes became large. She had drawn in her breath, but she hadn’t cried out. Instead, she seemed to have become carved from stone. Her lips had parted, and his eyes were drawn to them. They were dark, full, kind of on the pouty side, and he wanted to try them out against his own as eagerly as a boy venturing out into the uncharted wilderness. When she parted them like that, he felt her unintentional invitation. So, thus fascinated, he stared at them for a moment before speaking.

“I don’t think that young ladies should go unescorted on these grounds,” he told her pompously. “Mother Superior would not approve.” But he couldn’t think of anything else he should be saying to her. After all, he had not spoken more than two words to her in the entire time of his stay, nor at any other time during previous stays.

His words seemed to break the spell, and she stood up quickly. “I couldn’t sleep. I usually come out here if I can’t sleep. I didn’t realize that anyone would be here,” she replied. She couldn’t meet his eyes, for her guilty thoughts kept her from looking at him directly. He stood too closely, she realized, and his body was blocking the way back to the kitchen door. She averted her gaze onto his shoulder, and if he could see it in the moonlight, she was blushing furiously. The breadth of his shoulders made her knees weak.

He watched her lips as they formed the words to reply to his, and he scrambled to think of the next thing to say to her, anything to keep her in the garden with him for even one moment longer. She looked as if she would take flight. “May I join you then?” He couldn’t believe that the audacious words had come out of his mouth. Any sensible woman would realize his intentions at once. “Were you looking at the stars?”

She froze like a trapped rabbit, suddenly feeling as if something terrible was about to happen, but she didn’t know what. Why should she be afraid of the Prince’s bodyguard? He was probably the safest man to be around. Her pounding heart did not race as fast as her thoughts in her head. He was a man, though. Even bodyguards have temptations and urges. And discipline. A lot of discipline, she tried to reassure herself. She found that she couldn’t answer him.

He took a step closer and she retreated, feeling the bench edge behind her knees. She finally looked up into his face, trying to read his intentions, and found that his eyes spoke of his concern. His concern, and something else, like fire.

It was that something else that caused her breath to catch. The palest alabaster replaced her blush. He came one more step closer, and before she could react, he sat down on the bench.

He wasn’t in the way anymore of the exit. The path to the kitchen door was free.

As if reading her intentions, he reached out and took her cold hand in his warm one. “Sit with me a while,” he softly entreated. “I’ll show you Orion.”

The smile on his lips reassured her, but she thought that he must be able to feel how she was trembling. The contact with his hand was something she yearned for and feared. She couldn’t decide. And now that he had taken a seat, instead of looking up at him, she was looking down, and it was less threatening in some way. In spite of the sword at his side, he didn’t seem dangerous at all. She realized that her hand was still clasped in his. She pulled it away and softly replied to his invitation, although she didn’t know what words she said, exactly, then she gathered the thin folds of her gown and lifted them a little so that she wouldn’t trip as she practically ran to the kitchen door.

When she got to the door, she glanced back, but he was still sitting there. Although his head was turned in her direction, he was too far away for her to read his expression. She pushed the door open and quickly let herself back in, not knowing if she was relieved or disappointed. She quietly went back to her cell and lay down in her bed, pulling the quilt up to her chin. How could she sleep now? What had he intended? Just looking at the stars? What was she afraid of?

John watched her go, remembering the look of fear in her eyes when she had finally looked up at him. He sighed, unable to erase the imprint of her face from his mind. More than ever, he believed that something had happened to her, there was some mystery surrounding her, and he was sure it was nothing ordinary.

He sighed again, the thought of an early start in the morning driving him back to his room where he disrobed, then sat on the edge of his bed for a long while before settling underneath the comforter. Even so, he thought of her face, her body, her words, the sound of her voice, and the mere thought of her made his blood rage. He lifted the covers and looked down at the effect she had on him and he sighed deeply and turned onto his stomach, driving his hips into the mattress.

He tried all sorts of images to cool the heat in his veins before finally succumbed to the weariness in his bones. For a long time, however, sleep eluded him for the steely condition of his penis astonished him. Although he was no virgin, he had never had a single woman affect his body so strongly. It was distracting.

Berating himself, he considered resigning his services to his uncle after this trip was over, for a bodyguard could ill afford such distractions.

But he would no longer be able to visit the monastery if he resigned.

Again, he found his mind wandering to the thin covering she wore, and was even now wearing. What if she…? The image of her lying naked in her bed crossed his mind. He imagined her lying on her back, her breasts rising and falling with the rhythm of her breathing, her legs slightly apart, her fingers curled and relaxed. The narrow waist, the flare of her hips came to his mind all too easily. His brain felt as if it would burn from all the thoughts he had of her at that moment.

He imagined putting his hands on her knees, spreading them apart, feasting his eyes on the part of her body….He abruptly forced his mind elsewhere and moaned out loud, his hand sneaking downward, testing the calibration of his equipment with a quick pass.

Or, at least, he meant it to be only a quick pass. His hand seemed to become glued to it. It was easy, then, to think: ah, once I get rid of this urge, sleep will come quickly. The temptation to think such things was great, and he resumed thinking of the place in her body that he wanted to put it.

How could he look at her in the morning?

The thought stung him and he pulled his hand away. He pressed his face into the pillow and let out a growl of frustration.

“John?” Wilhelm’s sleepy voice came from the doorway that connected their rooms. “I can’t sleep. I keep hearing noises.”

John guiltily raised his head from the pillow and inwardly groaned. Of course. The annoying brat. He sighed. Oh well, learning diplomacy early on in life was good for the future King of Achthillia. “That’s okay,” he reassured the young lion. “It’s nothing to worry about. I did a patrol of the grounds myself a few minutes ago. Alexander is on duty by the door. Would you like a glass of water?” He sincerely hoped not, because then he’d have to get up to fetch it, and he didn’t want to warp the boy’s mind.

Wilhelm yawned and rubbed his eye sleepily. “No, I’m okay. I just thought I heard someone growling.”

John raised an eyebrow. He probably heard him. That was great. “We’ve got to get an early start in the morning if we want to reach the border by nightfall,” he said in a neutral tone. “Just go back to bed and try to get some sleep. Think of nothing for ten minutes. You’ll bore yourself to sleep.”

The Prince retreated back into his own room obediently.

“Sheesh,” John muttered to himself, “Take your own advice why don’t you?”

“Did you say something?” Wilhelm called softly from the other room.

This was bad. He was starting to talk out loud to himself. “Nothing important,” he whispered loudly. “Just go to sleep, okay?”

“Okay,” the boy replied. “Good night, John.”

“Good night, Wilhelm,” he responded. He closed his eyes. At least his cock was finally easing. He let out a big sigh and relaxed his body.

Once they were away from the monastery, then for sure he could allow his mind other distractions, and in Grektar, there were plenty of warm willing women into which he could vent. And none with mysterious baggage.

But during the night, a storm kicked up, driving snow from the mountains in an unseasonable show of late winter. By the time they woke up, there was a foot of snow on the ground, and no signs of it letting up.

When Elsie served his plate to him at breakfast, he felt a worry lance through his body. The nearness of her instantly affected him, and he adjusted the large napkin across his lap, hiding his reaction. His mind said “leave” but his body obviously was anticipating the fact that they were staying. And probably for the next three or four days.

He could feel the warmth radiating off of her skin as she leaned in close to place a bowl of boiled eggs between him and Wilhelm. He could smell her clean odor as she swished away. She was wearing those braids again, but they seemed a little askew this morning. Now that he had seen her with her hair down, the symmetry of her face became a study for his eyes. He particularly found her jaw line fascinating. Her earlobes were delicate and pink. Her large, doe-like eyes were riveting.

He met the sharp glance of Mother Superior from across the table. He nearly blushed, reading her distain in the curl of her lips and the glint of her blue eyes. Was he so transparent? Could the old woman read the desire in him from way over there? He started talking to Wilhelm in low tones, explaining once again their change of plans.

Wilhelm wasn’t worried for one second. He barely heard his cousin’s words. His only thought, as any boy his age, was of the fresh, unprinted snow outside that he could mark as he pleased.

Fortunately for John, who sometimes tired of his cousin’s enthusiastic energy, two of the monks volunteered to watch over him for a while, although they warned that even going six feet beyond the walls of the Monastery was perhaps dangerous, and they recommended that the Prince go out when the snow wasn’t falling so hard.

Wilhelm acquiesced with a sigh, since he was a reasonable child, but now the two monks saw that they would be stuck entertaining the live-wire boy all morning. So they decided upon a game of hide and seek while they explored the nooks and crannies of the building.

Elsie took away his empty plate.

Surprised, he looked up at her, words of thanks spilling automatically from his mouth. His eyes shifted to the retreating back of Mother Superior, who was already on her way to the office, leaving the two of them alone. He started helping her clear the table.

Startled, she glanced at him shyly, but said nothing in any way to either encourage or discourage him. She was super-aware of his presence as he followed her to the kitchen with his arms loaded with dirty plates and half-filled serving bowls. She thought guiltily of the pleasure she had allowed herself last night, giving in to the heated impulses of her body, her mind filled with the image of his body humping hers like she was an animal in heat. She knew it was a sin to give in to temptation like that. It always led to bigger and worse sins.

Like the temptation now. With the two of them the only ones in the kitchen, the storm howling through every crack the place had, and the Prince occupied by others, never was there a better time to give in to exploring those temptations. Even the stern Mother was ensconced in her office like a spider, catching up on some history lesson or killing bugs or something.

Without too many words exchanged, they washed, dried and put the dishes away. They tidied the kitchen, until finally, she looked across at him, meeting his direct gaze. She had opened her mouth to ask a question, but her brain forgot what it was she meant to say.

“Did you sleep well last night?” he asked quietly, and, in her opinion, a little too intently.

She felt a blush begin to spread across her cheeks remembering the thoughts she had vainly battled last night. “Eventually,” she murmured, not able to look him in the eye. She had made some hot tea for the two of them and she bowed her head over the hot cup, breathing in its steam. “And you?” she asked, merely as a courtesy, and looked into his eyes again.

She was greeted with silence and a shrug, the expression in his eyes unreadable.

“Was the bed too hard?” she innocently asked.

“The bed’s fine,” he gruffly replied.

Now he was angry for some inexplicable reason. “Would you also like a tour of the Monastery?” she asked, her mind grasping at whatever sort of safe activity she could involve him in. Being cooped up with him for the next few days was going to be a bit of a challenge. When she had given in to pleasure last night, she had expected them to be gone by the time breakfast was over. Now the prospect of having him around for an extended period of time made her suddenly anxious. Surely, in that time, he would find out about her desires. Each day would be more and more difficult to keep impulses under control. The thought of her austere bed tonight was a crushing prospect. He would still be under the same roof.

He considered her offer as he sipped the tea. “I suppose we could,” he finally said, although the possibility of being alone with her in some unused part of the fortress was firing his imagination to maximum overload. His body wanted hers next to it, moving around on it and in it and over it, as close as humanly possible. On the floor, in a bed, in the stables, against the wall, all these images rushed through his head, overheating his brain and causing his crotch to swell. The thought of her legs wrapped around him, her head thrown back in ecstasy, her voice crying out for more just nearly caused a blood vessel to burst.

He did his best to rein in those thoughts as they exited the kitchen and headed for the main entrance. As they entered the main hall, however, the doors burst open, allowing in a cold swirl of snow and wind. A traveler staggered against the doorjamb, and then fell to the floor. “Help me!” he whispered. “Others out there. Trapped by the storm. We were camping out when it hit. There’s a woman. She’s expecting a child soon. Please, could you help?”