(Author's Note: While I intended this is to be a stand alone story, I like the characters and DO intend to produce a sequel.)
*
"Enter, sir knight." Came the soothing and sultry female voice from the other side of the solid oak door. The young knight paused for a moment, shook his head slightly, his eyes closed in resignation for the task with which he'd sworn to complete. This was an act of desperation, there was no chance the Witch of the Wood would consider helping him, and in effect, help his King. The knight was sure the witch would simply toy with him, tease and obfuscate his attempts to plead for her help, and ultimately try and bait him into losing his temper, giving her a plausible reason to add him to her often-rumored tally of soldiers she'd killed. The people of the realm knew her to be an evil man-hater, an untrustworthy temptress from the mysterious south, and a beguiling deceiver. But, the knight was bound by his word and his oath of service; he had to try.
His gloved hand turned the simple latch, which opened smoothly and without the slightest protest ("Good workmanship." He appreciated, having learned to value competent iron forgers and gifted carpenters after his two years of campaigning). But as the door swung open into the dimly lit interior of the huge, ancient oak tree in which she lived ("Of course she lives in an old and scary-looking oak tree in the dark heart of the forest..." He noted sarcastically in his head, barely stifling the urge to roll his eyes), the knight dared not enter beyond the first step without formally announcing himself and asking permission to enter further to make his plea. He inhaled and was about to speak when the same voice, now appearing to come from a shadowy form sitting at the far end of the, er, tree, from the knight, interrupted him.
"Please, sir Johan... dear, handsome young Johan, come in, sit by me and let us discuss your need on this haunted day of All Hollow's Eve." He swallowed somewhat nervously, his heart rate elevated and his palms, his throat and his temples were slightly sweaty, similar to how he reacted before a battle. He expected conflict. He strode into the witch's lair, and knocked over a sack with what sounded like a large glass jar or two inside.
"Shit!" he cursed softly.
"Careful!" The witch warned, and seemed to be smiling as she said it. Johan bent down and carefully righted the sack, moving it slightly closer to the wall and out of his path, before continuing toward her.
As he drew nearer to her, he noticed that there was a very enticing smell in the room, almost like a stew, a very hearty stew of venison or perhaps goat, with very aromatic spices and perhaps some pork belly, boiling (he imagined) in a large cauldron, over a raging fire in a stone fireplace. His stomach grumbled, and he heard the witch giggle. "Perhaps if you're as polite as you are handsome, I can satisfy your hunger..." She purred.
"She really is shameless..." Thought Johan, stopping himself from shaking his head.
He stepped to within five feet of her and bent down on his knee, kneeling before her and bowing his head.
"My Lady-" He began, but the witch interrupted him again.
"Tutt-tutt, sir Johan; I am no Lady of the Court, these are my woods and I am beyond the shackling titles of the aristocracy. Hmm, I know, call me, 'Mistress.'"
Johan kept his composure, reminding himself that he was working directly for his Queen, on behalf of his stricken King. His own sense of self-worth was meaningless.
"Mistress," he continued without a hint of rancor. "I humbly ask for your help with a very grave turn of events. My lord, King Graham, has today succumbed to some form of malicious glamour; some evil ghost or fell creature has ensorcelled him, and he is unwilling to eat or drink, or to wear his clothes, and he has lost control of his words and thoughts. I come to your woods, and to your home, on behalf of the Queen of the Realm, and beg of you to help in whatever manner you see fit to free my King from this curse." Johan kept his eyes averted, and on the floor, both as to avoid angering the witch, as well as to try and escape her visage, rumored to cause men to die from sheer fright.
"Hmm, that is terrible news, indeed, but we don't really know it's a curse, do we?" She said, her words seemed to enter his mind with the sweetness of honey dripping on his lips; in spite of his certainty of the witch's malevolence, he found himself drawn to her voice, and imagining her to be as beautiful to look upon as was her voice to hear.
"Look upon me, sir knight. It is rude to treat with one whose eyes you refuse to meet." She said, startling him (though he did not cry out or flinch), as she was now directly behind him, her words seeming to whisper in his ear directly from her lips.
Johan stiffened and slowly stood up, looking to his right, where he'd heard the witch's voice, but not seeing her. His eyes looked left and right, still not seeing her, before he turned his head to the left, in order to face her chair once again. As he did so, he inadvertently rubbed his lips directly against hers, as she had positioned herself stationary in front of him, and deliberately close to him.
"Why, sir Johan! Such cheekiness!!" She exclaimed in mock outrage, her smile beautiful and wide on her perfect mouth. Her teeth were straight and white, her lips were full and either black or very dark red, and seemed very wet, and shiny, the light from her fire shimmering and dancing upon their shiny surface.
"What?! My La-er, Mistress, I meant no offense, I didn't know you were there!" He said, embarrassed and caught totally flat-footed by the witch's prank. But he was also thunderstruck by her beauty; she was the epitome of exotic and captivating to Johan. She was tall, seemingly as tall as Johan (who was six feet, two inches), and she had long, black, unruly and curly hair that hung to her waist and was pushed behind her ears. Her skin was a dark olive color, her neck was long and delicate-looking, and through her form-fitting black robe, Johan noticed her slim waist, wide hips, large and round breasts. While she'd tied a wide, yellow sash tightly around her waist, her very noticeable cleavage pushed against and threatened constantly to spill out of the deep cut in the top of her robe, which opened from her collarbone and extended down to her navel. His eyes lingered for a moment on the round, gold stud that pierced her navel. Her ears were also pierced, at least three times along the outer edge of each ear, and through which she wore small gold rings, and once more through each of her narrow lobes, which bore large, gold hoops. Her eye brows were black, as were her inch-long fingernails, and her neatly trimmed toe nails, visible on her bare feet. Her midnight-colored hair seemed to shimmer iridescently in the fire light. She was remarkably beautiful and incredibly sexy, but it was her eyes, her large eyes with bright yellow irises, framed by long, curly black lashes, that captivated Johan and stole his breath, jumbling his mind for several moments.
"Sir Johan, are you ill? You seem to be having some trouble..." She said, her voice melodic and soothing to his mind as he listened to her.
"I, uh, I beg for your aid..." He stammered again, unable to look away from her, but also neither quaking nor reacting with terror.
"This one has steel in him..." She mused, liking that he did not panic and seemed more attracted to her than afraid of her.
She reached out to gently touch his cheek, trailing her long, black fingernails softly against his skin, noticing the stubble and enjoying the raspy hiss of her nails against it. "Relax, Johan. I'm not going to hurt you; Yet..." She taunted him, then turned from him and sat back down in her chair, in front of him.
Johan composed himself and was about to restate his reason for coming to her woods and her tree, when she yet again, cut him off.
"How deep is your commitment to your King and Queen, Johan?"
"Mistress?" He asked, not really understanding her question.