The Witch and the Knight – Part Two

anton the knight

“Goodness…” – Anton the Knight said.

Psychosis? Delusions? The Princess and a broken heart? Anton said nothing, but a thousand and one thoughts raced through his head. The witch had caused him more stress, than any woman he had encountered yet on Alpha Gem. He gestured to the crystal ball, opened his mouth to say something but could not find words to speak. He set his hand back down back on the table, grabbed the tea cup and took a sip from it. The tea was really delicious, but it could not bring the warm comfort it did before.

“I beg your pardon, I think I need a moment. Pardon me, Madame Hook,” He said shaking. Anton stood up from the table and gave Mary a gracious bow. He turned jerkily, and walked through the two doors still shaking. Once outside and the cool night time air touched his cheeks, he let out the breath he held and a thousand more hopes raced in his affected mind. Maybe the witch miscast the spell, perhaps she divined the fate of the wrong man. Maybe… Maybe…

“Oh… My Lord...”

The emotions proved too much for the Knight and the poor man fainted.

“Sensitive beings those Knights are…” Mary thought as she heard the sound of the body dropping on the ground just in front of the mansion. As a practitioner of magic with a high level of consciousness she had seen many things and almost nothing could take her out of balance. She had put a spell on him to manifest him in her life, now she had to serve him.

The magical folk have one dignity – like mothers, they are quite sensitive to people’s need for protection.

She immediately poured hot water from the cauldron and placed inside a sprig of fenugreek, a herb which restored consciousness. It didn’t cross her mind at this moment that the same herb was a powerful aphrodisiac as well. She sprinkled the Knight’s face and started murmuring incantations. “Look at you!” – she spoke. “A good-looking young man, but your beard has not been shaven for three days, I presume. It’s a clear sign of a mental condition. But I sincerely wish to help you. I have got an idea. Your author gave you some compelling needs of a hot-blooded man. In your essence, you Knight Anton are a hero, and a lover, and a comrade – an achiever. You have to perform a feat, make love to a beautiful woman and we must find a couple of friends for you. And I don’t see how we will do all this if you keep lying on my front porch. Get up!”

Anton awakened when drops of the hot mixture splashed his face, eyes open and looking about. The Knight could not concentrate, he wasn’t quite sure he heard what the witch was saying, picking out every third word or so.

Needing a shave… Essence… Being a hero, lover, or something… Lover… Love…

“Love… Love.. Love, Lord, who knew…”

His eye went wide and he whispered, “The Princess!”

Suddenly he remembered those first days on Alpha Gemini, and the woman who found him half drowned on the Silent Lake’s shore. He spent time with her but never without being attended. The princess was beautiful as a fairy. Hair as black as the darkest night, eyes that sparkled like sapphires, and her figure slender and pale. The festivals and the balls, and all those times he stood by her side as her bodyguard…the way she looked at him, when he was in full armor, and the white flower she placed on his lapel during her wedding…

“Of course… Of course!”

He turned to Mary and bowed, saying, “Many thanks, Madame Hook. I’ve had a moment of clarity.”

Anton rushed into the nightly darkness, the aphrodisiac herb compelling his body and mind to a potent desire.

“My princess, I’m coming!” – he said like nothing would stop him now.

“Wait a minute, young hot-blooded Knight. Freeze in one place! I am not yet ready for our trip. Since I am a woman, I have to doll up a little. Who knows, this might be the day I have a date with destiny! And one must be as pretty as possible for destiny, as Coco Chanel, the great fashion dictator from Earth put it.

The poor Knight froze in one place, and she went inside her closet. She deprived herself of the domestic garments in less than 30 seconds.

“Should I put on a black bra or a white bra?” She implored while she was rummaging in her underwear. “Black shows style, while the white one will underline my innocence and purity. But then there is red, which shows, it should be torn in throes of passion. Then, pink or purple panties? As we know purple is an unambiguous sign of a practitioner of magic. Black, orange, white and red elegant dresses are hanging in my wardrobe. The little black dress has got a pearl neckline, but that’s too much for the occasion. I will not be riding a broom, so I can afford a sparkling silver miniskirt. As is well-known miniskirt goes perfectly well with black garters. On second thought I think these garters will break, and these dance slippers will be torn if I happen to dance too much, so in case we are visiting the Palace, I will need 12 pairs of them. You are a brave man, you should kindly help me with the luggage.

She appeared on the doorstep again, dressed like a woman of easy virtue, and removed the spell from the Knight, while cordially asking him:

“So, what do you think?”

Author: LadyF

I know that I can speak about writing until I annoy even the most patient person. It obviously is more than a passion to me. Dean Kansky said: "You know, the Greeks didn't write obituaries. They only asked one thing after a man died: "Did he have passion?"

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