Author's Note - This series is a continuation of 'The Prince's Potion,' and set around twenty years later. Though not necessary, I strongly recommend reading those stories prior to this one. I realize my stories are not for everyone. If you're not interested in exaggerated sex organs, incest, inbreeding, and medieval/fantasy settings, this may not be for you. Thank you all for the continued support and feedback!
All characters in sexual situations are 18 or older.
Chapter 6 - Sar Sanrosan
Deep in the taiga a lone cabin long fallen into disuse stood feebly against the crushing winter winds and snow. Far from any road, this little log house now shelters two survivors. A brother and sister, brought low by a surprise attack only days earlier, call it a refuge, when such a place would be far beneath their lofty station. They are the heirs to the royal Velcin family of Trevilan. One of them was badly injured. The other, much to her chagrin, was his caregiver.
Cold, irritated, and overworked, Princess Cressia Velcin carefully knelt over a big icy river. The stream was only partially frozen this morning and, as she had for the past five days, the nineteen-year-old trudged out behind their run-down shack to fill the bucket with water. She cursed as she stabbed at the ice and caught a glimpse of her reflection on the surface. Her youthful face was beat red and marked with scratches from her labors. Her luscious black hair was a crow's nest.
She used to bathe in hot water and soap twice a day. She used to smell wonderful, every day given her choice of oils and perfumes with which to anoint her sensuously nubile body. She sniffled and wiped her eyes, crouching low to fill the bucket with cold running water. She watched it fill up and, leaning forward, inspected her hands as they gripped the bucket. How much they had changed in only a few days. Calloused fingers, cracked nails, and a layer of dirt that didn't come out no matter how hard she scrubbed.
Despite the cold reality each morning brought, Cressia always woke in surprise. No, this wasn't some terrible dream. They were really stuck here. She cried herself to sleep the first few nights, arms wrapped around Roydan, her giant twenty-year-old brother, on the small bed they shared. Bundled under their clothes and a single tattered blanket, it was all she could do not to freeze. By midday, she would begin to accept their predicament. Stuck in the middle of nowhere, an isolated part of the Sar Sanrosan wilderness, they were perhaps only a few days' walk to the border of Trevilan, and yet... so far to go on foot. Then nightfall would come, and she'd feel the hopelessness set in again, thinking of the deadly winter, the dangers of the open road, and that Roydan was in no position to walk.
Her brother's wound was healing nicely but he had developed a fever shortly after they arrived, and it was up to Cressia to nurse him back to health. The prissy little princess, by her own admission, was largely useless when it came to living in the wilderness. Or at being a nurse. In fact, the teenager had few practical survival skills. The first few days here, it took a mildly delirious Roydan to explain to her very basic survival facts of which she seemed to be totally ignorant. The fire would always need tending, food had to be either hunted or gathered, and they couldn't drink water straight from the river. She would need to boil it first. She would need lots of kindling and firewood. They had to source their food and, given that she had no real hunting skills, would need to forage wild berries and nuts. Luckily, she had found berry patches close by.
Roydan said all this to her in his typical gruff and clipped manner of speech, but it was effective, if not irksome, for the spoiled princess who needed to be told such things. She couldn't really argue with someone who normally passed out on the bed every few minutes either. Despite how different they were, she loved him and would care for him as much as possible in these conditions. She kept him warm those first few days and nights and made sure he drank lots of water.
Presently, bucket filled, she continued to chip away at the ice. The river was big and strong enough for small fish to travel along. Since it didn't completely freeze over, Roydan instructed her on how to make a simple net out of an old roll of string and some chicken wire she had found outside the cabin. He had seemed genuinely pleased at the prospect of fishing.
Cressia had hung the small net on a stick, wedging it near the river, and it worked as a snare to catch Sarian trout as they swam down river. She had assumed it would catch a bountiful supply of fish and keep them well fed for the duration of their stay in this miserable place. So far it had produced but two small, slimy creatures that she would not have, in a million years, considered putting in her mouth. Yet the teenage princess surprised herself by how quickly she ate once she smelled it fried over the fire. Though the net had yet to produce any other such gifts, she always looked forward to checking each morning.
Prince Roydan, it turned out, though still somewhat scatter-brained in his fever, was a wealth of information about the outside world. Roy had spent most of his life outdoors, hunting and trapping, training as a soldier, and he was eager to pass on that knowledge. Mostly for their survival, but also to impress upon his little sister that keeping busy during a time like this was extremely important. He needed her to understand she was not safe at home inside Castle Velcin anymore. Things were not just going to be taken care of for her.
This fact was almost immediately made clear to Cressia by the unbearable cold each passing day seemed to escalate. She had never had to work for her breakfast. She had always woken up in a warm and safe bed chamber. She had been groomed for an extremely cushioned lifestyle. She read books all day and arranged floral bouquets. She rode horses and took a very active role in spreading gossip with castle courtesans. She had always been so clean, elegant, and regal looking. She didn't have the any hard skills or experience to hunt or trap. To kill some snarling, four-legged beast in the wild and know what to do with the animal's meat, bones, and hide was a foreign concept to Cressia.
That wasn't to say she was dim-witted or ill-suited for this situation either. Cressia was bright and intelligent, she asked questions, and she learned fast. She may not like it, being stuck in such a disgusting, cold, and awful place like this, in the middle of nowhere, with her injured big brother, but there seemed to be plenty of other ways for her help around while he recovered.
Roy taught her about setting traps and foraging for winter berries. He told her to search the immediate grounds around the cabin for any tools or things which may have been left behind. This ultimately produced the bucket, a small shovel, the fire poker, a roll of rusted chicken wire, and an axe head. She found lots of loose wood from an old fence and collected it for burning.
There was plenty of manual labor to do inside and outside the cabin. Someone had to do it. Luckily, Cressia was in good shape and able to do the chores each morning brought, despite what she thought of them. She was small, lithe, and graceful, with perky breasts on a supple build. She had wide hips, a fantastic ass, and strong legs that allowed her to move nimbly across the many hills and mounds of snow. It was not long before she had the cabin area mapped out. She had a knack for problem solving and, on good days, saw their situation as a puzzle for her to solve.
As there was little else to do, she was able to make small improvements to their shelter. She insulated it from the harsh elements with thick green moss and sheets of brown bark. She collected all kinds of old sticks and tree branches and, though she lacked any real woodsman experience, was always able to come back with enough kindling and wood to keep the fire going another night.
