A rider galloped through the night, his cloak flying behind him as he urged his horse on. He had been riding at breakneck speed for hours, but he could not take a break, time was of the essence and a life hung in the balance.
The man removed one hand from the reins and placed it over his chest, pressing the scroll beneath his shirt against him. Confident that the scroll was still there despite the speed and jarring movements of his steed, he once more grasped the reins in both hands, encouraging his horse to ride like never before - for there never had been so much at stake - a girl, the crown, the kingdom of Kravaolia - the fate of all three lay pressed against his chest in a small, hastily-written message.
On he rode, the remnants of the day melting around him, flickering like the wick of a dying oil lamp through the bare branches of the surrounding trees. On he rode.
****
Elena woke slowly, moaning contently as her body sunk even deeper into the soft bed. She stretched - or at least that was what she tried to do, before she realised that she could barely move her arms or her legs.
Her eyes snapped open. The ceiling above her was unfamiliar, dark blue hangings originating from a circular golden sphere, flush against the ceiling. She raised her head off the pillow and looked down to see her legs spread wide, her feet tied with some sort of silky material, to both corners of a very large bed. She looked over at her wrists and found a similar arrangement: Silky restraints keeping her arms far away from each other. She had just enough slack to bend her elbows slightly, but that was all. She gathered by the pain in her shoulders that she had been laying in that position for quite a few hours. But why? Elena tried to remember the events that lead up to her current situation, but only small, short and blurry memories came to mind. She seemed to recall a drink, a desk and a tall figure...
She pulled hard on her restraints but all that accomplished was the tightening the restraints even more. She looked around but saw no one, Elena was further confused that the room itself didn't even seem familiar.
Elena raised her head off the pillow. "Hello?" she called out tentatively, her voice hoarser than usual. She cleared her throat and called out again. "Is any one here? Hello?" her voice returning to it's normal pitch, even though it was slightly high from anxiety.
When no one answered, she let out a small sob. "HELP!" she yelled, pulling on her restraints again. "Please, somebody help me!"
Elena's head dropped back onto the pillow, her eyes swimming with tears. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the tears to leave her eyes so she could see properly. She silently berated herself for letting her emotions get the better of her - it was not the time. Think, she said to herself, figure this out rationally, leave the hysterics out of it. Elena took a deep, calming breath and looked around again.
The stone walls were decorated with paintings depicting furious battles or important looking men, sitting in their military splendor. From this Elena deduced that the owner of the room had a rich family history and a fondness for battle. Looking around, she spotted a large fireplace in which a few embers were glowing softly. Obviously the fire had been lit hours earlier and had not been tended to since.
On the opposite wall, there stood a very large, ornate mirror, tarnished in a few spots but impressive nonetheless. Beneath it lay a handsome rug, with intricate patterns - the person who owned all this was no pauper, she decided.
Elena looked down at her dress. Although Elena recognised the emerald green dress she was wearing, it felt to her like a superficial familiarity, as if it were not really hers. She managed to maneuver the silk material so that it covered her splayed legs, but was unsuccessful in covering her breasts completely - the material covered very little of her ample decolletage- it barely covered the area just north of her nipples.
Elena closed her eyes, trying to remember something, ANYTHING - but nothing came to her. She knew she was Elena, Princess of Lorrea - but other than that, it was all a blur. The only thing she was really sure of was that she had a pounding headache.
Elena's eyes snapped open as she heard the creaking of a door hinge. She looked up to see a tall figure step into the room, making it's way toward her.
As the figure drew closer, the dying fire cast a flickering light over his features. Elena's stomach clenched - she didn't recognise him, but he made her feel extremely uneasy.
"Who are you? I demand that you release me at once!" she said to him, pulling herself up as much as her restraints would allow.
"You are not in the position to make demands, Princess."
"Who are you?" Elena repeated, her eyes following his slow approach.
"You don't remember who I am?" the man asked quietly.
"NO! I don't remember anything - where am I?" she said, shifting her hips away from the man as he sat down on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.
"Interesting... very interesting," he mumbled to himself, his fingers playing softly against the silky fabric at her thigh.
"Don't touch me!" she shouted at him, twisting in vain to avoid his touch.
"I'll do as I please," he said, flashing her an evil smile.
"By royal decree, I order you to untie me this instant!" her tone not as forceful as she'd like, but forceful enough.
"So I'm to understand that you have no idea where you are or who I am - but you remember that you're a princess?" he asked, ignoring her request, a frown forming on his face.
"Of course I know who I am - I'm Princess Elena of Lorrea. But who are YOU?!" she asked haughtily.
"I am Lord Caspian of Kravaolia."
Elena looked back at him blankly. "Never heard of you."
Caspian's eyes flashed dangerously. "This will not do, it simply will not do," he murmured to himself, running a hand through his hair. "The dose must have been too high."
He looked back at Elena. "Unfortunately, my little plan seemed to have worked too well - you were not meant to have such memory gaps, only minor ones. I suppose you'll have to take the antidote- what a waste of an afternoon."
Caspian stood up, and walked towards the doors.
"Wait!" Elena cried out, "You can't leave me here like this!" she said, yanking her restraints once more.
"This is my home Princess - I do as I please and seeing you spread and tied pleases me greatly at the moment. Now, behave yourself and I'll be back shortly with the antidote to reverse your memory lapse."
Elena gaped at him, a flush creeping across her face in response to his words.
"Don't go anywhere," he chuckled, closing the doors behind him.
*****
The rider was exhausted, his horse even more so, but still he urged it on. It was late in the evening when he caught his first glimpse of a neat circle of tents with a relatively larger one in the middle, dimly lit by small flickering torches.
He let out an audible sigh of relief as he slowed his horse to a trot, to allow the sentries enough time to notice him without being startled.
After passing the security check, he made his way quickly to the central tent. He mumbled a few words to the guards outside and waited as one of them ducked inside the tent. The guard emerged moments later, pulling the flap aside, indicating to the rider that he may enter.
A large man stood in the middle of the tent, his muscular arms folded over his breast plate.
The rider kneeled before the man, bowing his head slightly before straightening up.
