The Queen's Orchard

(A Valentine Story for My Love)

by Alyx

 

The Queen's Orchard was a thing of beauty, rows and rows of trees, arrow-straight, laden with fruit: apple, peach, apricot, plum. It was wisely hidden behind high walls of stone, and Rowan had never seen it before. Indeed, most of the kingdom's subjects would never lay eyes upon this oasis situated right below the window of the queen's bedroom. The only reason Rowan was viewing now it was due to the wiles of her cousin Tobin. Their combined curiosity often landed them in trouble, but it was Tobin's insatiable appetite that was responsible for his latest discovery: climbing a nearby oak and lowering a rope down on the other side would put them smack in the middle of the garden.

"Are you mad??" She stared at him. "If they catch us they'll chop off our heads!"

"Oh, they don't do that sort of thing anymore," he assured her. "They'd probably just chuck us in the dungeon."

"And you'd risk that for a few apples? You ARE mad!"

"Not just apples, Ro. Glorious Pippins, crisp and heavy. The sweetest apricots you've ever tasted....plums so juicy you can nearly drink them down ....peaches with skin softer than a baby's bottom...." he trailed off reverently. "Think about it. And you can take some back home with you."

It was that last comment that did it. Though she'd started salivating at his description of the bounty, it was the thought of taking a portion of it back home for her elderly grandmother and younger sister that convinced her. Their lives were hard and simple, and pleasures rare. To be able to provide a treat like that was powerful incentive.

"Very well. What do we have to do?"

And that is how Rowan came to be sitting up in the tree next to Tobin and gazing at what seemed like an awfully long way down.

"How are we going to climb back up the rope?" she asked through suddenly dry lips.

"The same way we got down, only reversed," he said. "Just shimmy up!"

"Easy for you to say," she grumbled. "You don't have to bother with skirts tangled 'round your legs."

"Very well, I will go first and then pull you after me! Come on, Ro....please?"

The pleading tone in his voice, combined with the excitement in his eyes, was too much for her to resist. Although she definitely had second thoughts after dropping the last few feet and ending up in a heap on the hard ground.

"Ow! Damn it, I think I landed on a stone!"

"Shhh! Never mind that, bring the bag and come on!"

She handed the cloth bag to Tobin and dusted herself off, grumbling under her breath. He didn't even wait to see if she was all right, but darted away to the nearest tree. She followed more slowly, marveling at the heavily-laden branches surrounding her. It was quite a change from the scrawny wild fruit trees found in the meadow near her home.

They had barely begun their harvest when they noticed the dark clouds rolling in.

"Oh-oh, there's a storm coming," Rowan said. "We'd better finish up and go, Toby."

"Just a few more," he insisted, alternating between picking and biting into particularly succulent specimens. "The bag's not even half full!"

"Don't be greedy," Rowan frowned. Though she increased her pace to pick as many as possible before they had to leave.

In the end, the delay cost them. Before they knew it the rain was upon them, a chilly shower that quickly soaked through their clothing. They scrambled back to the wall and Tobin handed Rowan the bag of fruit, surprisingly heavy and growing more so in the deluge.

"I'll go up first. You tie the bag to the rope and I'll pull it up, then I'll let it down again for you, okay?"

"Okay, okay, but hurry! I'm freezing!"

Even wiry Tobin had a hard time climbing up the now slippery sisal rope, but eventually he made it to the top, audibly puffing from his exertions.

"Put the bag 'round your shoulders, I'll pull you both up at once," he said, looking down at her.

"Are you sure?" she asked doubtfully. "That'll be awfully heavy."

"Yes, yes, quickly now. Before someone— eeep!"

Suddenly Tobin's eyes widened and he disappeared from view. With a sinking feeling in the pit of her tummy, Rowan slowly turned around. Even with the cloak and hood the woman was wearing, Rowan recognized who stood before her, someone she had heretofore seen only in passing parades: the Queen.

The bag of fruit dropped from nerveless fingers as Rowan stared, frozen in terror. A moment later she remembered her manners and attempted a clumsy curtsey. "Your M-majesty," she choked out.

"Well, that explains why my apple trees have not been producing as they should – there were thieves at work!"

Rowan's head whipped up in dismay. "Oh no, Your Majesty, that's not true!"

The queen's eyes narrowed in a way that made Rowan's blood run cold. "Did I not this moment catch you stealing my fruit?"

"Y-yes, you did. But I've never done it before, I swear it!"

"I don't see why I should believe the word of a thief, do you?" Her voice was as cold as the rain which continued to fall on them.

"Please, Your Majesty, I know it looks bad, but I'm telling the truth!" Rowan was close to tears.

"Young woman, I'm not going to argue it with you out here under these conditions. You will come with me."

It was more than just a request, it was an order. An order backed up by the queen's firm grip on her upper arm. This startled Rowan more than anything – that the queen herself would lay hands on her – and she went along without further protest.

Into the castle, up the stairs, into what appeared to be the queen's own quarters. There was a fire burning brightly across from the four-poster bed, and velvet drapes pulled back from the windows. The rich oriental rugs covering the floor and embroidered tapestries hanging on the walls further warmed the room. But Rowan barely noticed her luxurious surroundings. Feeling the effects both of being caught and being soaked, she began to shiver.

"Remove your clothing," instructed the queen.

"W-what??" asked Rowan, startled.

"You are chilled and will become ill. I intend to make sure that you will not steal from my orchard again, but not by giving you pneumonia. Get out of those wet things."

"But...what will I wear?"

"I have a sheet you can dry off with." The queen walked over to her bed and pulled off the top sheet. "It is clean, in case you are worried about that."

Rowan was speechless, as the thought of Her Royal Highness in bed was not something that ever entered her mind. She hesitantly stepped forward to take it but the queen stopped her with a gesture.

"Don't move, you will drip water all over the floor. Take your clothes off where you are standing."

"Here?" Rowan was standing near the door and looked uneasily around.

"Yes, there. And be quick about it, girl."

The queen's tone brooked no argument, and Rowan began to slowly undress. She felt painfully self-conscious, but the queen was paying her no mind. The monarch was herself removing her raincoat, a cloak which looked like it was made of sealskin and repelled the water beautifully. Under that she had on a robe of purple velvet, hand-woven and lined with white silk, and beneath the robe she wore a gown of the palest mauve, embroidered with thread of gold and copper bullion.

She looked surprisingly untouched by the downpour which had soaked Rowan, and Rowan was awed by her beauty. Of medium height, she had dark hair and eyes the color of amber. Rowan had before only seen the queen from a distance but had always been impressed by her presence. In these close quarters, her powerful personality was nearly overwhelming.

"Finished? Then come here."

While Rowan had been undressing the queen had pulled a heavy walnut sewing chair in front of the fire. She stood in front of the chair holding the linen sheet and waiting. Rowan approached, feeling horribly naked and vulnerable compared to the sumptuously attired queen.

When she was within reach the queen wrapped the sheet around her, and to Rowan's discomfiture, began to dry her. Feeling the queen's palms rubbing her through the thin material caused goose bumps to break out all over her body, as well as other confusing feelings to arise. She blushed and stood awkwardly still, unable to meet the queen's gaze.

After drying her body the queen started on her hair. Her long fingers were surprisingly gentle as they combed through Rowan's locks. When her hair was merely damp, the queen draped the sheet around Rowan's shoulders and looked into her eyes.

"Better?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good." Before Rowan could say another word, she felt herself grasped around the waist and pulled over the queen's lap as the queen seated herself in the chair.

"Your Majesty! What....what are you doing?!?"

"I am about to ensure that I will never again discover you attempting to steal my fruit." She settled Rowan securely against her and slid the sheet up to the small of Rowan's back, baring her completely. "I find that a good thrashing is sufficient deterrent to future theft."

"Nooo! Please!" Rowan didn't dare struggle against the monarch, but her tone was beseeching. "I will never do it again! I swear it on my life!"

"That is correct, you will never do it again. And I intend to impress upon you the wisdom of that decision." She rubbed her palm over Rowan's bare buttocks briefly, before lifting her hand and bringing it down hard. The slap to Rowan's right cheek was followed immediately by a slap to the left. This was repeated as the spanking proceeded briskly, the sharp sound of hand against flesh and Rowan's cries ringing out equally loudly.

As the heat in her buttocks rose, Rowan's initial reluctance to fight was overcome. She struggled furiously, kicking and wriggling with all her might, but it did no good. The queen held her firmly, easily pinning her arm to her side when she attempted to reach back and cover herself. After what felt like hours, the queen paused, hand resting lightly against the underside of Rowan's burning right cheek.

"I would know the name of your companion."

"I– I beg your pardon?" Rowan said, trying to catch her breath and focus on the request rather than the palm pressed against her, disconcertingly intimate despite its punishing role just moments before.

"The boy who was with you, the one who managed to escape and leave you...holding the bag." The queen's tone was ironic.

Rowan hesitated. "There was no one with me, Your Majesty."

The atmosphere of the silence that followed reminded Rowan of being on the hillside during a thunderstorm. In spite of the thick stone walls surrounding them, she could feel the hair on her arms rising in response to the expected arc of lightning. She braced herself.

"You dare lie to me?" Her majesty's voice was soft but clear, with the menacing growl of a lynx.

Before Rowan could answer, the queen reached down and pulled out a footstool, which she tucked beneath her right foot. This raised her right knee, and therefore Rowan's hips, even higher into the air. The queen's hand swung straight back and then forward again, landing on the fullest part of Rowan's bottom, right where (as she had so painfully just discovered) she was most sensitive. The breath was forced out of her by the impact.

*SWAT!* *SWAT!* *SWAT!* A dozen times without pause the queen's fearsome palm landed, and Rowan was pleading piteously for mercy long before it ended.

"Would you like to revise your answer?" The queen asked, at last.

"I'm s-sorry, Your Majesty. I...I cannot tell you."

"You mean you will not."

Rowan mentally cursed Tobin and his calamitous ideas. But even more she cursed her own foolishness for being led into this predicament. Whatever the outcome, it would do no good to have them both in trouble. "I....I....will not, My Liege," she managed to whisper.

Whatever the queen's response to that would have been was delayed by a loud rap on the door. Rowan gasped and stiffened.

"Be still," said the queen to Rowan. Then, raising her voice, "Yes? What is it?"

"I 'ave your evening libation, Your Majesty," came a voice, muffled, through the door.

"Very well, bring it in."

"No!" Startled, Rowan began struggling anew.

"Where do you think you are going? I have not finished with you," said the queen sternly. Then she lifted the sheet and draped it over Rowan, covering her from view. Covering most of her, that is – Rowan could feel that her hindquarters were still exposed.

"Your goblet of wine, Your Maj— oh!" the serving girl's voice broke off in surprise.

"Yes, all right, bring it here."

There was the sound of footsteps hesitantly approaching, and then Rowan felt the queen's body shift as she reached for her wine. She was no longer restraining Rowan...there was no need to.

Rowan lay as still as possible beneath the sheet, wondering if it were possible to die of mortification. She could imagine the shocked expression on the serving girl's face, imagine the sight of her hoisted over the queen's lap, bare bottom glowing bright red in the firelight. The cheeks on her face were nearly as hot as those of her nether regions, and she groaned silently beneath the inadequate covering.

"If Your Majesty don't require nothing else?" the serving girl inquired uncomfortably.

"Actually, I have a task for you, Anna. Take that pile of wet clothes down to Mrs. Drake, and have her look for another set in the same size."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"But before you do that, go over to my wardrobe, and bring me a pair of slippers."

Rowan could hear the wardrobe door being swung open, and then....

"These ones, ma'am?"

"No, there should be a brand new pair.....ah yes, that's the set! Bring them here, please."

There was silence for half a minute, as Rowan strained to make out what was happening.

"Beautifully made, aren't they?" said the queen conversationally.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"The finest calfskin, you know. The soles a bit too soft for walking in the garden, but perfectly suited for other purposes, don't you think?"

"Your Majesty?" Anna's voice was confused.

"Just the thing for teaching a lesson about the penalties of stealing from the Royal Orchard, I mean."

"Oh! I'm sure you're right, Majesty. I...I will see to them other tasks now." Blushing, Anna was glad to make her exit without further incident. But once outside the door, she could not help but linger. The scene she had just witnessed left her with a strange warmth and tingle inside, and she glanced around guiltily before pressing her ear up against the heavy wooden door.

She jumped a moment later when a loud CRACK! issued forth, echoing like a rifle shot from behind the door. It was followed immediately by a cry of distress, which turned into howling as the whacks continued at a deliberate pace.

Swallowing hard, Anna nearly ran down the stairs, vowing never again to sample fruit from the queen's garden, and deciding that she had better warn all the staff as well. It had been a nice benefit of working at the palace, but it simply wasn't worth the risk. Who knew the queen was so fond of her rosy Pippins?

The End