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The Sissy Princess

Once upon a time, in a kingdom by the sea, there lived a brave and noble prince named Robin.  Prince Robin was the youngest of three brothers, each well-built and handsome. 

Prince Robin reached his 18^th birthday and knew that it was time to make a name for himself.  Unlike his brothers, who took quickly to their positions and fit into their roles easily, Robin was not sure of his role in the kingdom.  Prince Robin was not naturally gifted with strength or speed.  Instead, the prince was exceptionally fair of face with beautiful, delicate features and an exceptional talent for music, song, and poetry.  Mastering the lute at age 16, people would gather as far as the sound would carry whenever he played.  Women would often weep at the beauty of his music and people would spontaneously dance when he picked up a lively tune.

Far away from the kingdom of the three brothers, in the highest tower of a dark castle built atop the highest mountain in all the lands, there lived a beautiful princess.  The master of the castle was an evil sorcerer named Janear, feared in all the lands.  Janear had cursed the princess at her birth to live all of her days as a girl on the inside and a boy on the outside.  He destroyed her kingdom and then kept her locked in a tower.  Upon her 18^th birthday, he began propositioning her, telling her that she would remain trapped in the tower until she submitted willingly to his every wish and desire. 

Princess Skyler, even cursed to live as a boy, was as fair and lovely as the most beautiful of maidens.  Her long, golden tresses fell in shimmering waves around a delicate, finely boned face with large, almond shaped blue eyes and lush, full lips.  On the rare occasions when she showed her dimpled smile, birds would alight on her hand to bask in the radiance of her features.  Though lacking womanly curves, her slender, body was always kept smooth and hairless, clad in beautiful pink dresses and undergarments made from the finest silks and most delicate lace.

Each day, at dawn, midday, and evening, a meal would appear and the chamber pot would magically become clean and fresh.  Once each morning, a tub of fresh, hot water would also appear along with a new dress, slippers, and undergarments, which would disappear each night at midnight.  Though evil and selfish, the sorcerer was not completely cruel.  Her imprisonment was his only direct cruelty in a myriad of kindnesses he thought could win her over.  He used his power to provide her anything that would not aid in escape or allow her to harm herself.  In her room, on the desk he provided, was a book with blank pages, a quill, and bottomless ink well.  Should she desire anything, food, book, instrument, or trinket, all she must do is write it in the book and it would appear.  Again, the only exceptions were items that would allow escape or self-harm.

As time went on, many of the stories and books Janear provided for her were of a distinctly carnal nature.  The books often referred to bedroom devices for pleasure and the princess became more and more aroused by each story.  Often, the stories featured girls like her, cursed to live in the body of a boy, but depicted them coming to enjoy their fates as they were taken vigorously by well-endowed older men.  It was obvious what the sorcerer was doing, but unbeknownst to him, Skylar’s fantasies did not feature Janear at all.  Instead, she fantasized about being taken lovingly by a faceless young prince from a far off land. 

On a clear spring day, Princess Skyler stood on the balcony of her tower prison and gazed across the wide world she believed she would never see and tears began to fall from her eyes.  She had known that Janear was training her for his pleasure and she despised him for it.  Her sadness was so profound and heartbreaking that, from the tears which dropped the hundreds of feet to the rocky ground far below, a tiny flower bloomed. 

The edelweiss that grew from her tears was as white and pure as the snow which covered the mountain in winter.  A bluebird flying by witnessed the spontaneous growth of edelweiss from the princess’s tears and swooped down to pluck the flower from the rocky ground.  Flying up to the tower, the bluebird alighted upon the railing and spoke to Princess Skyler.

“Why are you so sad,” the bluebird sang.

“Because I am cursed to live in a body not my own and remain trapped in this tower,” the princess replied.  “My only escape is to willingly submit to becoming the slave of the Sorcerer Janear, something I will never do.  I have even tried to throw myself from the tower, but when I did, an enchantment below this balcony transported me to just above my bed.  I fear I shall never experience the world outside this tower.”

“Fear not,” the bluebird sang cheerfully.  “I shall take this flower far and wide and sing of your plight.  When one who is destined to rescue you hears my song, I shall give him this flower.  He shall wear it upon his doublet that you may know I sent him.”

With that, the bluebird picked up the edelweiss and flew off.  Many days and weeks the bird flew, carrying the hopes of the princess, all the while singing the song of her bondage.  Across the valley of mists and the planes of sorrow to the bog of thorns, the bird flew.  Through the desert kingdom of Sultan Nadim the Great and into the land of the three rivers, where the centaurs lived, the bluebird sang out the sorrowful song of Princess Skyler to no avail.  Finally, after weeks of flying, the exhausted and disheartened bluebird found the kingdom by the sea. 

The bluebird could not understand why no one responded to his song.  The humans in the lands could clearly hear him but none seemed moved by his sorrowful song. Carefully, the bluebird landed on a small stone wall to rest his weary wings when he heard a beautiful melody that made his heart ache anew.  Fluttering closer and alighting on a small ledge overlooking a garden, the bluebird saw a dark haired young man, fair of face and voice, singing a beautiful song of hope and love accompanied by the masterfully played lute in the young man’s nimble hands.  Unable to stop himself, the bluebird began to sing with the young man. 

Prince Robin, the young singer, noticed the song of the bluebird and adjusted his song to encompass the lovely chirping melody.  The two intertwined their voices along with that of the lute to weave a song that had tears streaming from the eyes of everyone near enough to hear, including the prince’s own.  After the song, the hopeful bluebird alighted upon the head of the lute and spoke to the prince.

“Good sir,” said the bluebird.  “I have flown for many leagues.  For weeks, I have searched for one who would hear my sad tale and travel far across many lands to right a grave injustice.  Will you hear my tale?”

“Dear bluebird,” the prince replied.  “Tell me your tale.”

The bluebird told the tale of Princess Skyler as she relayed it to him.  By the ending of the tale, the prince was sobbing in sorrow and in rage at the evil done to one so pure and lovely as the bluebird described the princess.  Immediately, the prince put aside his lute and held out his hand for the bird to land upon.  He agreed to travel the miles and face whatever trial awaited him in order to save the princess from her fate.  Happily, the bluebird presented the edelweiss and alighted upon the prince’s shoulder as he stormed inside to prepare for the journey.  The prince and the bluebird left the castle the next morning.

Hearing the story of the princess from Prince Robin and seeing the edelweiss, a flower that did not grow anywhere within a week’s ride from the edge of the kingdom, King Richard and Prince Robert were greatly moved.  The morning Prince Robin set out on his quest, Prince Robert and 100 of the finest knights escorted him to the edge of the kingdom to negotiate passage with the centaurs.

The centaurs had an uneasy truce with the kingdom by the sea.  Their agreement was for none from the kingdom to enter their lands and no centaur would disturb the kingdom.  Past wars left scars on the history of both sides and with the prince’s quest, the brothers were certain that they would anger the centaurs.  Before resorting to warfare, however; Prince Robin wanted to attempt diplomacy. 

The end of the Evergreen Wood, where the forest met the rolling, fertile planes of the three rivers, marked the end of the Prince’s kingdom.  Making sure to stay well within the tree line, Prince Robin hailed a passing centaur patrol and told them of his quest.  The centaurs, large beasts with the bodies of horses below their neck and the upper torsos of men where their necks should be, stomped skittishly at the size of the prince’s force while one ran off to tell their chieftain of the story.  The chieftain sent an emissary who would only let Prince Robbin cross into the land if the remainder of the force turned around and left the borderlands. 

Prince Robert was wary of treachery and refused to leave.  Fearing a war, Prince Robin suggested quietly that he could go and, once he gets across the Land of Three Rivers, he could send the bluebird back.  If the bird returned empty handed, the Prince reached the other side and the 100 knights could return to the kingdom.  If the bird held the edelweiss, the prince had been refused by the centaurs and was in trouble.  Reluctantly Prince Robert agreed.  To the centaurs, he only told them that he could send a message through the bluebird.

After a half-day’s ride, the prince and his centaur escort came to the camp of their chieftain.  The large tents and huts were primitive but surprisingly quaint.  Most of the centaurs were large and obviously male, but there were a few female centaurs, all as equally nude as their male counterparts, and equally well proportioned, with large breasts on their powerful but feminine torsos.  The largest of the huts obviously held the chieftain and Prince Robin was escorted right inside with little ceremony.  The guards exited and he found himself standing before the largest and most powerful looking centaur he had ever seen. 

The horse body of the centaur was easily 6 feet high and powerfully muscled, covered by a shimmering coat of purest white.  Around his ankles, thick tufts of snow-white hair covered large hooves.  The human body was no less imposing, rising up from the front of the horse body.  The heavily muscled, male torso appeared mostly hairless except for a line of white coat beginning at the navel and spreading out as the rippling human abdominals merged with the broad chest of the horse.  On closer inspection, the powerful muscles of the man were covered with a dusting of blonde, almost white hair in the same places most human males are so covered.  The chieftain’s face was handsome and strong, with a long blonde beard and flowing, pale blonde hair that fell in shimmering waves down his back and across the horse’s withers.

“So,” the centaur chieftain said in a deep, resonant voice.  “You wish to cross our lands for to save a tormented princess.  You who are so pretty and small, would rescue her alone, across the vast lands between this land and the castle of the sorcerer?”

“Were I you, I would not so underestimate my skills and cunning,” Prince Robin bristled in his soft, melodic voice.  At that, the centaur chieftain laughed.   

“Cunning and skill?  Mighty boasts for one built so puny and soft.  You could not best me at any martial skill and would better grace the furs of my bed than a battle with even a puny sorcerer.”

The prince, angry at the laughing tone of the centaur chieftain could not help but be taken aback by the insinuation that the chieftain would like to bed him.  Uncomfortable and certain that the chieftain would not let him pass, the prince argued with the chieftain until the hints became blatant suggestions.

“I have no more patience for this discussion and I am beginning to feel a powerful need that must be satisfied.  Unless you will satisfy me, I must go find a willing mare.”

“You would prefer me, a human male, to the beautiful mares of your own race,” the prince asked.

“They are large and strong, but you are small and pretty, even for a male.  To mount them and take my pleasure, I must fight them for dominance, even as the chieftain.  You would be an interesting change.”

“But how would I be able to take you?  You are obviously large and powerful and, as you said, I am not.”

“We have ways,” the centaur chieftain explained.  “In the days of conquest, we would often take humans but, to prevent severe injury, we would coat ourselves with a salve that allowed us to easily, and without serious pain or injury, enter a human and take our pleasure.  Are you curious?” 

“I might be, for a price.”

“Let me guess,” the centaur chieftain chuckled.  “I allow you to cross our lands unimpeded and you submit to me for a night?  Who is to say I will not simply take my pleasure and be done with you.”

“Because,” the prince explained more confidently than he felt.  “You know that to harm a prince of the blood would bring war to both our peoples.  Though you do not fear that war, you know many on both sides will die.  I am offering a compromise.”

The centaur chieftain thought about the offer and then readily agreed.  For one night with the prince, the chieftain would allow him passage across the land and even provide an escort.  The one condition was that, if the prince wanted the ointment, he would have to dress and act as a woman and then drink the chieftain’s seed.  Once the two agreed, the chieftain exited his tent and proclaimed that he would need a jar of their prized salve.  At that the surrounding centaurs cheered and laughed.  The prince suggested that even the rumor of such an act reaching his brothers might still start an incident, so the chieftain bade his people to tell no human.

As the salve was being prepared, the prince bit his lip and actually looked at the powerful creature in front of him. Though young, the prince was not a stranger to either male or female love.  On his 18^th birthday, he found that he readily enjoyed all aspects of lovemaking, be it with a woman or a man.  What he appreciated in the male form was abundantly present on the human half of the huge, exquisitely masculine creature and the prince imagined that the experience might not be an unpleasant one. 

The centaur chieftain went to a chest in his large tent and removed a gown, ribbon, and a small leather case that he said was left in his tent by the last human he bedded.  He presented the items to the prince and left the prince to prepare.  The prince, surprised by the fine garments, took a moment to appreciate them as he undressed.  The fine dress was pink and white with more frills and lace than was currently in fashion but still lovely to look at.  The ribbons, a match in color to the pink of the dress, were of exquisite silk.  Not surprisingly, a pair of frilly pink, silk panties, soft, sheer white stockings, and a matching corset were carefully bundled with the dress. There were shoes as well but they were slightly too small for his feet.

With a resigned sigh, the prince began to dress, uncomfortable with the situation but determined to do whatever it took to rescue the young princess.  As he dressed, he realized that he would either need to ask for help with the corset or simply not wear it.  He decided to see how he looked in the dress first and realized that the corset would be pointless on his slender, chiseled frame.  Though the dress was obviously made for a slightly shorter, curvier woman, he managed to make it fit everywhere but the bust, which he could do nothing about.  Taking his long hair out of the tail at the nape of his neck, he braided one of the pink ribbons into his hair and then wound the braid up into a bun with the other, a hairstyle he had seen on a few women. 

In examining the leather case, he found a mirror, an assortment of powders, and a few colored sticks which must be some form of makeup.  He wasn’t quite sure how to wear it but he had seen women paint their faces so he used the darker pinks to shade his eyes and the lighter to shade his cheeks.  There was also a waxy pink stick that he used to shade his naturally lush lips.  When he was done, he was surprised at how pretty he looked and felt strangely sexy looking at himself and seeing an attractive, if particularly flat-chested woman.

Standing there, in ruffled panties, a beautiful silk and lace dress, his hair up in ribbons, and wearing makeup, he was shocked to realize that his cock was growing hard.  Before he could confront his unusual feelings, however; the centaur chieftain walked back into the tent and froze.  Standing nervously in the chieftain’s tent was what appeared to be a gorgeous, slender woman, trembling anxiously in anticipation.  The chieftain was actually shocked to see how much the prince resembled the woman who previously owned that dress, and the only other human to willingly submit to his desires.  

At first, overcome with lust, the centaur tried to grab for him clumsily, but the prince quieted him with a deep kiss and a soft touch before kneeling beneath the powerful, trembling equine body.  A pair of huge, white testicles, easily each the size of a gryphon’s egg, hung heavily between the chieftain’s rear legs.  A large, flared head protruded a few inches from in front of the testicles and the prince tentatively reached up to touch the huge orbs. 

The heavy, hot testicles were covered by a light silky white coat and, immediately, the prince began stroking them. Becoming bold, he rubbed his face on them, reveling in their heady musk, and heard a moan from the chieftain as the shaft of the massive equine phallus slowly extended from the chieftain’s body.  Surprisingly, the prince found his own cock growing stiff and tenting the frilled pink panties he wore under his dress.

The chieftain was equipped with a large, black member that was easily a foot long and draped solidly over the top of the prince’s head.  The strong scent of musk surrounded him and he was shocked to realize his mouth was watering and his cock was achingly rigid.  Reaching up, Robin pressed his full, lush lips on the throbbing flesh before him and watched it grow even larger.  Slowly, he kissed, licked, and stroked until a massive, two feet of rigid black flesh arched from beneath the centaur’s body. 

The soft touch of the prince was something completely new for the chieftain and he found that he thoroughly enjoyed it.  Unlike the brutal sex of his race, this soft, gentle touch was both exciting and calming.  As the Prince’s wet tongue flicked the leaking head of the massive member, the chieftain moaned and stamped his foreleg.

The prince, tasting the leaking fluid, was surprised at the taste and realized that drinking more of it might not be so bad.  Far from what he expected, the fluid was salty but sweet and musky, like a savory salt-water taffy.  It was both similar and drastically different from the other young man he had been with and he found himself enjoying the experience.

Standing, the prince began to disrobe slowly, careful to protect the borrowed garments as he removed them.  Eventually, he stood before the centaur chieftain, clad only in the ruffled, silken panties and the creature’s eyes widened at the sight.  While slender of build and completely hairless, the prince appeared very effeminate and graceful, with lithe, lean limbs and smooth, pale skin.  With his long, brown hair braided up in ribbons and his naturally pretty face made up artfully, he could almost pass for a woman… almost.  What made the chieftain’s eyes widen was the large, erect phallus that tented the silken, pink panties at the prince’s waist.  While nothing for a centaur, the prince’s equipment looked huge, especially on one built as he.  Smiling, the prince turned around and slowly bent, sliding the panties down to display possibly the most enticing rump the centaur had ever seen.

Slowly, the prince reached around and began to rub the salve onto his opening, using his fingers to work it deep inside.  The chieftain quivered with need but allowed the prince to tease him, enjoying the show as the young, enticing creature looked over his shoulder to meet the lustful gaze of the huge half-man, half-horse standing behind him. 

When he felt something begin to happen, the prince looked a question at the centaur and the chieftain nodded his head and stepped forward.  Holding up a hand, the prince backed up to crouch between the legs of the large creature and felt the massive, flared tip press against him.  To his surprise and astonished delight, he opened up easily for the massive shaft and felt intense pleasure with only a moderate amount of discomfort as he slid back onto the chieftain’s phallus. 

Though he tried to allow the prince to take the lead, the chieftain soon began pounding at the tiny, incredibly tight opening.  While the prince moaned and screamed with pleasure, the chieftain groaned and huffed powerfully with each thrust.  The tent began to smell of musk and sex, driving both participants into an even more frenzied state.  Soon, the prince felt a stream of sticky wetness on his thighs and realized that he was leaking from his semi-rigid, flopping appendage.  In moments, he shuddered in bliss as he erupted onto the floor beneath them.

Feeling the tightening of an already incredible orifice, the chieftain yanked himself out and reminded the prince of their deal, telling him to quickly go down and catch his seed in the prince’s mouth.  The prince agreed, shakily but quick enough for the first huge blast of semen to catch him full in the face as he reached out to stroke the enormous shaft.  Coated with only a fraction of the chieftain’s mighty load, the prince opened his mouth and tried to catch and swallow as much of the creamy, surprisingly delicious seed as possible. 

As the chieftain continued to erupt, the realized that he was getting full and his stomach began to hurt.  Remembering his deal and determined to follow it to the letter, he swallowed every drop he could, though much of the thick seed ended up covering him.  When the last streams of the thick, viscous fluid subsided, the prince looked down to see his belly distended.

“Well,” the chieftain said with a breathless chuckle.  “You were right to warn me not to underestimate you.  You shall stay in my tent this night and have an escort across our lands whenever you are prepared to depart.  I shall even allow you to keep the salve.”

“Th—”  The prince began to thank the centaur chieftain but instead burped and quickly covered his mouth, embarrassed.  The chieftain merely laughed and waved it away, walking to the front of his tent.

“Bring a basin of hot water for our royal guest,” the chieftain called.  “He would wish a bath.”

To chuckles and smiles, the centaurs welcomed the embarrassed prince into their midst as he bathed and prepared to rest for the long journey across their lands.  His stomach was significantly bloated but the chieftain suggested that it would slowly dissipate as he must have gotten salve along with seed down his throat when he used his mouth and tongue to coax the thick seed from the chieftain’s cock.  The next morning, none the worse for ware and surprisingly still full from his “meal” the night before, the prince set out for the next leg of his journey.

The journey across the Land of Three Rivers was not overly long or unpleasant and gave the prince time to really examine his feelings about the night with the centaur chieftain.  Yet again, the prince was surprised how much he enjoyed the entire experience, especially the uniquely sensual feeling of dressing up as a princess and being taken wholly as a woman.  Knowing the nature of the trapped princess in the tower, he hoped she would understand and be open to exploring such feelings. 

While the Desert Kingdom was a harsh land and difficult to travel, the city of Sahiel was only a day’s ride from the edge of the centaur lands and had established trade with the centaurs.  When the prince came to Sahiel, he learned of a caravan traveling to the capital city of Sharji the next day and bought passage with the caravan master.  The caravan traveled for three nights to reach the city of Sharji, where the prince requested an audience with Sultan Nadim the Great in the castle Qadib Akbar. 

Upon hearing of the Prince’s presence in his city, the Sultan dispatched a royal courier to bring him to the castle at once.  A room was prepared for the prince and, upon his arrival, so was a much needed bath.  That evening, Prince Robin was invited to dine with the sultan and his three daughters and told the sultan of his quest.

The sultan and his daughters listened intently to Prince Robin’s story.  Shiri, the youngest daughter, sighed wistfully at the romance of the quest.  Farah, the oldest, scoffed at the mention of the bird carrying the flower, so the prince asked the bird to land on her palm and sing to her, proving himself to her and all others present. 

Though the sultan sympathized with the young prince, he was concerned with helping the young man and earning the ire of the sorcerer.  He believed that, without his aid, the prince would never survive the twelve-day journey across the open desert to the canyon of the serpent, the path to the bog of thorns.  He decided to test the prince and explained that, in order to receive his aid in crossing the desert, Prince Robin would have to provide something of equal value. 

The prince immediately began to offer money but the sultan stopped him, waving the notion away.  The sultan believed he had all he could ever desire and wanted to see what the brave young prince would suggest.  He told Prince Robin that he was welcome to stay as his guest for as long as he desired and while under his roof, would want for nothing. 

After the dinner with the Sultan, Prince Robin felt dejected.  He had no idea what to offer the sultan in exchange for his help.  Pondering his options, he returned to his room to retire for the evening.  A short time later, the prince heard a light scratching at his door and was surprised to find Farah waiting for him on the other side.

“Princess Farah,” the prince exclaimed.  “To what do I owe this honor?”

“I am curious about some things I have heard of your culture,” the princess replied as she stood in the doorway.  

“And I may be able to help you in exchange.”

“Oh?  Would you like to come in?”

“I would love to,” said the princess, a little suggestively, as she strolled in.  “I have heard your people hold… unusual views on the roles of men and women.”

“Not so unusual… mawali is it?”

“It is mawlati, but you may simply call me Farah, my prince.  I have heard women may hold land and power in your kingdom… and even married women may have power over their husbands.”

“Thank you, Farah, and please call me Robin.  Yes, it is true and depends on the two people involved.  Why do you ask?”

“I am intrigued by the idea of… having power over a man,” the princess said seductively.

“I see.  I know of a few couples in our kingdom with such a relationship,” Prince Robin said smiling.  “Often, the roles and power depend on the setting.  Where one may hold all of the power in public, like the commander of the city guard, his wife may hold all of the power in private… like the bedroom.”

“That would be… lovely.  My husband does not appreciate such arrangements.  He would strike me for even suggesting such a thing.  And so it appears we both may provide that which the other desires.”

“Ah,” Prince Robin sighed softly, a knowing smile on his face as he gazed at the gorgeous, exotic beauty with long dark hair, bronze skin, and dark, almond eyes.  “So I allow you to dominate me this night, and you provide me the answer to the riddle of the sultan’s aid?”

“Just so,” Princess Farah said, nodding.

The prince agreed with little hesitation, as he found Farah very beautiful and alluring.  He was not surprised when she took charge and began ordering him around, demanding that he undress her and call her sayyeda, the word for mistress in her language.  He was surprised, however, when she produced a large, ornate gold and silver phallus inlaid with ivory from beneath the folds of her gown and fitted it into a leather harness she wore at her waist as he undressed her.  Farah’s voluptuous body was as magnificent as he imagined it and the sight of the large, downward arching phallus strapped to her hips only added to his excitement. 

Princess Farah dominated Prince Robin like she was born to it, providing the perfect mix of affection and dominance with just a hint of humiliation.  She was intimidating and just a little bit demeaning when she ordered him to dress in her clothes, which he thoroughly and enthusiastically enjoyed after his experience with the centaur chieftain.  Seeing how beautiful the prince became when he dressed as a desert princess and how excited it made him, Farah eagerly demanded that he pleasure her with his mouth and came quickly under his attentions.

Though forceful and demanding as he dressed, pleasured her, and then undressed seductively, she became gentle and loving as she used the salve he gave her to ease her exquisitely crafted phallus into his lubricated, and obviously well-used anus.  Knowing of the salve and surprised that the prince possessed such a treasure, the princess was thrilled that she could take him as vigorously as she desired.  The fact that he obviously enjoyed being taken in such a manner heightened her pleasure even more, enough to bring her to an ecstatic climax from just the friction against the harness as she took him hard from behind.

When the two collapsed to the bed, both exhausted and thoroughly satisfied, Princess Farah thanked the prince breathily and told him that the key to her father’s aid would be found through his tears.  As the sultan, everyone attempted to make him happy.  They gave him gifts, and sang great ballads praising his deeds.  Even the greatest poets and musicians only sought to provide cheerful songs.  Farah suggested that, should Prince Robin write a song of his quest so powerful and emotional that it would bring her father to tears, the sultan would find it of far greater value than a guide across the desert.

Prince Robin was incredibly grateful to the princess for her aid and leapt up to get his lute.  He spent three days and nights tirelessly writing a ballad of the lonely, cursed princess.  Though Princess Farah urged him each night, he neither slept nor joined her for pleasure.  At the end of the third night, the prince collapsed, exhausted after completing his greatest work up to that point.  On the fourth evening, he told the sultan over dinner that he had a gift for him and drew out his lute, playing the song he had written.

The song was haunting and beautiful, with elements from each of the lands he had so-far visited and told the story of the trapped princess and her curse.  The sorrowful melody that accompanied her story blossomed into hope as the bluebird crossed the many leagues to find him and bloomed fully when he began his journey.  The ballad ended, unfinished but somehow complete, with his request of the sultan for aid.  When he looked over to Sultan Nadim the Great, there were tears streaming from his eyes.

“Young prince,” said the sultan.  “You have provided a worthy gift as well as a threat I cannot ignore.  Your unfinished ballad shall not end with the refusal of Nadim the Great to aid in so noble a cause.  You shall have your guide, along with all of the aid my kingdom can provide.”

With that, Prince Robin thanked the sultan profusely and promised to play the completed song for him upon his return.  The sultan was so grateful for being immortalized in such a beautiful heroic ballad that he began preparations that evening.  Though still tired, Prince Robin could not help but accept Princess Farah’s offer for another night of wild, dominant lovemaking.  Once again, Prince Robin became Princess Robin and thoroughly enjoyed the experience. The next morning, the prince awoke to find himself fully provisioned and a guide prepared for him to begin the long trek across the open desert.

The twelve days of travel across the desert were difficult, but uneventful.  Though the land was harsh, no sandstorms assailed them on their journey to the Canyon of the Serpent and the guide had little difficulty navigating their route.  On the thirteenth day of their journey, the pair found the canyon.  The guide explained that he could not wait indefinitely and the prince suggested that he could send the bird back to the sultan when he returned and the bluebird chirped in agreement from the prince’s shoulder.  With that, the guide left the prince to continue his journey through the canyon to the Bog of Thorns.

As the prince neared the end of the canyon, the land became more and more full of life.  By the time he reached the other side, stagnant water welled up from the ground and huge, thorny vines crawled the walls of the canyon.  The ground was so saturated with fetid water past the edge of the canyon that it was impossible to find a dry path.  Picking his way through the swampy land, the prince soon found that he and his horse were soaked from head to toe.

Half way across the Bog of Thorns, the prince’s mount broke his leg on a thorny root under the water.  The prince did everything he could but the horse, incensed and screaming, had to be put down.  The prince did it quickly and then gathered everything that he could carry.

Prince Robin, cold and wet, realized almost immediately that he could never carry all of his supplies without a mount of some kind.  He was disheartened at the loss of his trusty steed and cried out in despair that he had come so far and overcome so much just to become hopelessly stranded in a swamp.  Though the prince had lost hope, the indomitable bluebird sang to him of courage and hope, reminding him that the edelweiss was still magically fresh despite the long journey and the harsh desert. 

Inspired, the prince drew his sword and began collecting long, straight lengths of the thick, thorny vines and quickly fashioned them into a raft.  When the raft easily supported his weight along with all his equipment, he knew that his journey was far from ended and he had overcome yet another challenge on his road.  The remainder of his journey through the swamp was difficult, but with the help of the bluebird, the prince easily navigated across the Bog of Thorns. 

As the swamp gave way forest, the prince knew that traveling would only get more difficult, especially once he reached the Planes of Sorrow.  Repacking only what he could carry, he left much of his provisions and decided to hunt and forage for food.  As he unpacked his equipment, he found a tightly bound oilcloth he did not recognize.  Opening it, he found an exquisite desert dress and veil similar to what he wore during his wonderful sessions with Princess Farah.  The dress, veil, and accompanying makeup was obviously a secret gift from the princess, a gift he chose to keep rather than abandon with most of the rest of his equipment.  By the next evening, he was camped just inside the wood line on the edge of the Planes of Sorrow, roasting a fish and watching for signs of the ghosts reported to haunt the area.

The prince was not sure what to believe but did not want to ignore all he had heard.  According to legend, the Planes of Sorrow were once the home of a great kingdom, beset by some catastrophe that cursed the land, leaving not even a ruin behind.  The only remnant of the ancient kingdom were the ghosts that tormented any traveler to set foot on the planes.  Staying vigilant until well after dark, the prince saw no sign of ghosts or any other activity from his vantage point within the trees on the edge of the planes.

Relaxing, Prince Robin decided to write the next two verses of his ballad so that he might play it for the princess once he has rescued her.  He wrote and played well into the night until he was satisfied with the masterpiece he was creating.  Pausing to stretch, he turned towards the planes and nearly dropped his lute.  Just outside the tree line, a vast hoard of dark, shadowy figures stood in numbers so great, the prince could not even begin to count them. 

As he stood, staring at the insubstantial shapes of the ghostly hoard, he began to hear the faintest hint of a whisper.  At first, he wasn’t sure he heard anything, but the sound grew slowly more powerful and insistent until it was a near deafening hiss.  The sound was a single word chanted over and over by every single ghost present.  He did not speak their language, but he knew what they wanted. 

Slowly, he lifted his lute and strummed a single chord.  The chanting stopped immediately.  He began to play a well-known heroic ballad but the ghosts, for that’s what they were, issued a hissing scream and surged towards the trees, though none crossed out of the planes.  He stopped playing and the ghosts calmed before chanting again.  Since they gathered for the ballad he was writing, he played it again and the ghostly hoard silenced.

The music wove through the story again, Prince Robin adding a few embellishments and adjustments that came to him during the impromptu performance.  When he reached the end of his most recent verse, the loss of his horse in the Bog of Thorns, he realized that he could not continue that song and finished with a flourish.  Silence stretched as the ghosts waited.  The almost whisper tickled his ear again and before it launched back into the ghostly chanting, he began another romantic ballad, silencing the ghosts yet again.

On and on he played, often repeating songs he knew well and improvising when he couldn’t remember parts.  He played for hours until his fingers ached and his throat grew hoarse.  As he played his favorite ballad a third time, he heard a chanting from the ghosts and stopped.  Again, the chants were an almost deafening whisper but this time, there was no animosity in it.  As the sky lightened, the ghosts began to disperse until, just as the sun crested the horizon of the plane, they had completely disappeared. 

Though the prince was afraid, he knew that he must continue.  He wasn’t sure what would happen to him when he set out across the plane, but if his experience of the previous night was any indication, he needed to play music as he crossed.  Fearing to wait, he picked up his camp and set out, exhausted.  He did not encounter anything unusual the entire day, though he was still only about half way across the planes as the sun began to set.  When he realized that he did not need to play during the day to keep the ghosts away, he rested his hands and voice as he walked. 

Though he had not slept in two days and was beyond exhausted, he knew he must continue.   Picking up a lively but romantic tune, he began to play as the sun set.  Slowly, shadowy forms began to fade in around him and moved with him as he walked.  Though exhausted and almost delirious, he continued to sing and play as the ghosts surrounded him but left him unmolested. 

The night wore on and his hands and voice were slowly deserting him.  He found himself losing his place in his music and making more and more mistakes.  He felt cold touches on more than a few occasions, waking him up and reinvigorating him out of pure terror.  By the time he saw the sky begin to lighten in the east, he could barely stand.  He cried with relief when, almost an hour later, the sun broke the horizon and the last remnants of the ghosts dissipated. 

Prince Robin collapsed to the plane and almost fell asleep right there but the bluebird, his wonderful little companion, sang into his ear and reminded him to at least set up camp first.  He set up a small lean-to and lay comfortably in the shade beneath it, falling immediately asleep.  He slept deeply and without dreams, so exhausted was he.  When he awoke, the day was well into afternoon and he hurriedly picked up his things and began moving.  He managed to get in sight of another tree line by the time the sun began to set so he began plucking a lovely tune and continued on his way.