The Princess, the Witch and the Pirate

Indignation

The morning after the first duel, Serge and his prize sat next to one another. She, Moorish and slight in a red linen dress. He, sun-kissed and imposing in a tee shirt that looked to bust at the arms. Olivia sought sadness or fear in the girl's eyes but registered none. The delicate captive smiled at Serge when he addressed her. She seemed calm and genuine, which was both relieving and vexing.

"How do you feel today, Mikael?" asked Katia, leaning forward. A locket escaped through a gap between two breast buttons. It dangled and twirled, momentarily drawing Olivia's eye. The red-head hastily tucked it back inside her silk blouse, never taking her eyes off Mikael.

"Last night, I found a television and a Nintendo in my room! I'm looking forward to playing today."

"Isn't that nice! What's the matter, Olivia? You look sullen."

"I just...I just can't believe this is happening. It's so wrong," hissed Olivia, looking down at her eggs, clutching her fork.

"Well, what did you expect? Men can be rather savage when they want something. And if we're being honest, Serge did take it rather easy on the boy. I mean, it is a tournament, after all, and the rules are rather loose. Why did you come if it wasn't to witness the carnage? Or were you hoping to meet a young man?"

"I didn't ride nine hours on a stolen moped to romance!"

"That was you? With the hand gesture on little motorbike?"

"I'm here because this whole thing is wrong and it needs to be stopped. I'm here to win. I'm here..."

"To rescue the princess?" Katia's shoulders shook as she contained herself before ultimately letting go and throwing her head back in riotous laughter. "I'm sorry, that is just. You are...adorable. I thought. I thought you didn't believe in fairytales."

Olivia's whisper held all the power of a vociferated reproach. "I don't understand, Katia. How can you be okay with this...medieval game? What if you were the prize. What if you were the one being traded among boys, forced to...being forced to...?" Olivia blushed.

"You needlessly distress. Serge is a lamb in wolves' clothes."

"Did you not see how he just...took her last night? As if she were a trophy of some kind."

"Didn't anyone tell you? That's all we are to men."

"There it is! That's what I'm getting at. As a woman, how can you, in good conscience, participate and not want to help her?"

"I have," she glanced at Arthur, "scores to settle. I don't always do things in good conscience, besides." Katia drained her glass of orange juice and stood, prompting the men to get up. "Mikey, will you be a darling and accompany me for a walk? Afterwards, take me to your room. We can play Nintendo."

Olivia ate slowly, elbow on the table, chewing her pastry absentmindedly. She kept wondering whether there was any alternative to fighting. Running away perhaps? No, they'd get caught and thrown in a dungeon or something. But maybe... How far could they get by train? What disguises could they wear? Should she get a fake mustache? Deep in thought, she assumed everyone else had left the dining room, until she felt a presence beside her.

Arthur had quietly taken Mikael's seat to examine his contender. "You know, despite the boyish, pedestrian garb, and this...peculiar, choppy haircut, you're not bad looking." He curled a strand of Olivia's chestnut hair in his fingers, eyes drawn to the delicate gold bird dangling from her earlobe.

Olivia grabbed his wrist and pinned it to the table, meeting no resistance.

"How about a date?" He grinned.