I
watch silently as he walks down the corridor, the portraits of his family hanging on the blue walls.
One by one, he looks at them all, pausing just momentarily in front of each one. Finally he comes to the
last portrait, not a painting of a relative, but a beautiful angel, long black hair and eyes so dark brown
they look black. She wears a dress of pure white, like a fluffy white cloud snuggling to her perfect figure.
He reaches out and gently touches the face of the portrait, slowly running his fingers across the high
cheekbones, then the lips. A tear trickles down his handsome face, as I hear him whisper, "Oh my angel,
why can't you be real?" My heart breaks for him, the richest man in the kingdom, his castle filled with
treasures, everything a King could want he has. Except the one thing he desires the most, his beautiful angel. Softly he touches her cheek again, turns and walks away, his head bowed.
Quietly, I follow him as he enters his bedchamber. Walking over to the large windows, he stares out
into the star filled sky, and I hear him say, "I would give all my kingdom, and live the rest of my life as a
pauper, just to spend one night with you, my angel." Then he pulls the heavy red velvet drapes together,
blocking out the view of the twinkling stars. Going over to the huge four-poster bed, he turns down the red
velvet coverlet, removes his black satin robe, and climbs into the bed, completely nude. His body is so perfect, not real muscular, but toned, the type of body a woman would love to snuggle up to all through the night. Reaching down he pulls the coverlet up to his waist, and turns the oil lamp down very low, lies back on his down filled pillows, places his big strong hands under his head and stares at the ceiling. He is such a gentle handsome man, every lady in the kingdom would give anything to be his queen, but no one has been able to take him away from his angel. I watch as his eyelids begin to close, sleep over powering his need for the angel. Waiting for the signs of his slumber, steady breathing and little snores to tell me he is in dreamland, I go over to him, and pull the coverlet up to his chin. As I do, a soft moan escapes his full lips. Ever so slightly I touch his lips, with my fingertips, another moan comes from his lips. Such a sweet king should never suffer as much as he has, he doesn't deserve so much unhappiness. I can't stand to see him suffer any longer. Taking my left wing in my right hand, shaking some of the golden magic angel dust into my left hand. Slowly I sprinkle the magic dust from his head to his toes, tomorrow my king, your dream will come true! I place a soft kiss on his cheek, and fly out of his room.
Awakening bright and early the next morning as usual, sitting up in the big four-poster bed, a
strange but good feeling comes over him. Somehow today is going to be different, he can feel it in his
bones. Jumping up out of the bed, he puts on his black satin robe, and walks out into the corridor,
stopping in front of the angel's painting. The king touches his lips with his fingertips, and places the
kiss on her lips, smiles and walks on down the corridor. As he reaches the last step, leading into the
castles entranceway he hears a strong knock on the huge double doors. The king answers the door;
only to see one of his gardeners standing before him holding what appears to be a female. Her face he
cannot see, it is hidden from his view by her long black hair. The dress she wears was once white, now
it is stained and wet from the morning dew. The gardener speaks to the king, " Your Majesty, I found
this lady, unconscious and lying in the rose garden." Taking a step closer, his hand reaches out and
ever so gently pushes aside the long black hair. The king's mouth drops open, as the sound of his deep
intake of breath fills the room. There, in the arms of the gardener, is… his angel.
Quickly over coming his shock, taking the precious bundle into his arms, ascending the stairs as fast
as he can. Heading straight for his chambers, laying the precious bundle on his bed. Turning his head
to the gardener, who has followed him, he tells him to go get the healer and to do it very quickly. The
king is rubbing her arms and hands, trying to get her closed eyes to open. Her breathing is so shallow,
the olive complexion paling with every moment that passes. The king jumps up and takes the cloth
beside his water basin, dips it into the cool water, and returns to his angel's side. He bathes her paling
face, a prayer going through his mind, please don't let her die, not now. Finally after all these years he
has found his precious angel, nothing must happen to her now! Tears fall slowly down his cheeks.
The gardener returns, the healer by his side, in his hands he carries a black bag filled with herbs and
potions. The king sitting on the bed, tears streaming down his face, no shame at all showing in this
strong man. He looks at the healer, a pleading look in his green eyes, help my angel please, are the
only words that come from his lips. The gardener turns his back, wiping invisible dust from his eyes.
Never has he seen his king in so much pain, never has he begged for anything. As the healer gets
Closer to the angel, he notices her condition. How in the world will he ever be able to keep this
beautiful woman from death? How can he keep their King Goran from perishing of a broken heart, if
his angel dies? Opening his black bag, he desperately searches through his herbs and potions,
nothing that would seem to work. He glances from the bag to the face of King Goran, pools of green
stare pleadingly at him. The healer tells King Goran, we must get those wet dirty clothes off of her
and put her under the covers. King Goran tells him, NO one touches her but me! Yes, my king, I will
leave you to the task, replies the healer, he turns to leave and motions for the gardener to follow him.
King Goran gently pulls her to him, holding her with his left hand, and slowly unfastens the
lacing on the back of her dress. Ever so gently he removes the sleeves from her shoulders and
arms. Very lovingly removing the damp dress from her body, she wears no underclothing. He tosses
the dress aside, pulling the warm covers around her, tucking them around her small, frail body. Out
in the corridor the healer paces back and forth, the gardener stands aside, watching his every move,
hoping the healer can come up with some magic to cure the lady. The healer paces, back and forth,
repeatedly, his mind going through every magic spell he can think of. As he turns and proceeds back
towards the bedchamber, he glances at the portraits, not really looking at them, but through them.
Suddenly the portrait of the beautiful angel catches his attention, stopping directly in front of it, his
Eyes taking in every detail. A very loud gasp escapes his lips. The gardener turns to see what is the
matter. This is the lady, the healer replies. The gardener staring at the portrait, in astonishment,
agrees. Take me to the exact spot where you found her, quickly, we haven't much time.
With the gardener in the lead, they run through the castle, then outside, and into the rose garden.
The gardener suddenly stops; pointing to a spot close to the gazebo, there is where she was laying.
Hastily, the healer starts to look around, the gardener asks what he's looking for. He tells him
feathers, white feathers, help me look. On hands and knees they search, finding three white feathers
apiece. Not enough says the healer, we must keep searching, and there's very little time. Looking
around, the gardener asks, how many do you need? Thirteen it has to be exactly thirteen, answers
the healer. Here and there they collect six more white feathers. They look and look, checking every
rose bush, the grass, inside the gazebo, no feathers do they find. Finally the gardener stands up,
stretches to take the kinks out of his back, his eyes turning towards the roof of the gazebo. There
lodged on the very edge is the thirteenth white feather. Quickly he reaches up and grabs it, hollering
to the healer, I found it! The healer grabs the feather and races back to the castle, with the gardener
hot on his heal. Taking the stairs three at a time, flying down the corridor, barging into the king's
chambers. King Goran sitting on the bed with the limp body of his fragile angel in his arms, tears
streaming down his cheeks. A sound of pure pain, agony, and torture was coming from his lips.
Turning his tear-drenched face to the men….. "she's gone," he whispers, his voice cracking, his
body beginning to shake with uncontrollable sobs. The sounds coming from him rip the hearts from
the healer and gardener; they stop dead in their tracks. King Goran's pain and agony fills the room,
bouncing from wall to wall, filling ever crack and crevice of the room, his tears flowing onto the
limp, breathless body of the lady in his arms. The word NO, repeatedly coming from his lips!!!
Coming back to his senses, the healer rushes toward the king. "Your majesty, please lay her down
on the bed," he says. King Goran looks at him as if he's crazy. The pleading look of the healer's
eyes finally reaches his grief stricken brain. With the gentlest motion the king lays his angel down,
making sure her head is on the pillow. Covering her nude body with the red velvet coverlet, tears
still streaming from his eyes. The healer asks the king to please stand up and allow him to take a
closer look at the lady. King Goran reluctantly removes his hands from her and takes a step back,
allowing the healer to move closer. He places his ear close to her nose listening, hoping, praying
that she still has life, but nothing does he hear. The healer motions for the others to be silent, the
room is so quite you could hear a pin drop. All of a sudden the healer raises his head and
exclaims,….. "SHE IS ALIVE," I heard the faintest of air come from her nose. The king does not
believe him and makes a statement to that affect. "Your majesty, I swear to you, I heard the faintest
of air coming from her, and she IS still alive." "Quickly your majesty take these white feathers," he
does as he's told. The healer instructs him to gently shake the feathers and to move his hand slowly
up and down the body of the lady. To the king's amazement small, tiny, golden particles drift slowly
from the feathers down upon the lady. Up and down her body he shakes the feathers, till every last
particle of gold is gone from them. Turning his sad eyes to the healer, "What do I do now?" "Time
my lord; it will take some time for the magic dust to work." King Goran's sad eyes turn back to his
angel, he leans over her, and places a soft kiss on her cheek, a tear sliding off his cheek onto her
tiny lips.
The day passes ever so slowly for King Goran, not once has he left her side, not even
when others offer to watch her for him. The cook brought him food to eat; it sits on a tray beside the
bed, untouched. Nothing has touched his lips, except the cool flesh of his angel, ever so often he
places another soft kiss on her face. Her breathing has become a little more detectable, her small
chest rising with each breath. With each breath she takes the king's hopes soar higher, his heart
praying for her eyes to open. The hours pass, day turns into night, the king has sent everyone to
bed, insisting they leave him alone with his angel. After so many hours sitting by her side, he gets
up to stretch a little, walks to the window and pulls the drapes apart just enough to peek out. The
sky is filled with twinkling stars, and the moon, a tiny sliver of silver. Suddenly he spies a star
shooting across the sky, and then another, the sky is filled with them, like angels flitting about. A
touch on his right shoulder startles him from the mesmerizing sight. Turning he sees the most
gorgeous sight he has ever seen… his angel, standing there staring back at him, wearing nothing
but her long black hair. His arms encircle her, and he pulls her soft warm body to his, trying to fight
the will to crush her to him, not wanting to hurt her. Pulling back from her reluctantly, reaching
down and lifting her into his arms, she lays her head on his shoulder, snuggling her soft lips to his
neck. He carries her back to the big bed, and gently lays her down, stands up and removes his robe,
goes around and climbs in bed beside her, pulls her tight against his body. She whispers her desire
for him, he softly caresses her back and tells her, they must wait, that she has been very ill and she
needs to rest. Arms and bodies wrapped around each other, pulling the covers up over their nude
bodies, they both fall asleep, passion waiting for the right moment.
King Goran awakens first, being careful not to move very much, not wanting to disturb his
sleeping angel. Holding her very close, enjoying the smell and feel of her soft little body, snuggling
up to him even in sleep. A pain nips at his heart when he remembers how close he came to losing
her for ever, quickly he turns his thinking from such horrid thoughts, back to now and the beautiful
angel in his arms. Her eyelids flutter like the delicate wings of a fragile butterfly, finally remaining
open, staring into his smiling face, deep desire for him showing strongly in her dark brown eyes.
He pulls her even closer, savoring the feel of her delicate body touching his. Her body movements
telling him she has had plenty of rest, he whispers to her not now my sweet angel, first you must
eat, you'll need all your strength for what I have in mind. Now my angel we shall get up and have
the special breakfast I told the cook to prepare! But your majesty, I have nothing to wear, he smiles
and points to a chair close to the door. There draped across the high back of the red velvet covered
chair, lies her snow white dress, cleaned and pressed to perfection. They slowly crawl out of bed
and get dressed, her in her beautiful white gown and him in a royal blue robe with gold trim. After
dressing the king instructs her to sit on a bench, in his hand he holds a silver handled brush. She sits
with her back to him, starting at the very ends he very gently works every tangle from her long
black tresses. Placing the brush at her forehead and softly pulling it through the thick glossy locks.
Her eyes close as she enjoys the wonderful manipulations of his hands and brush, right hand pulling
the brush, left hand slowly following the brush down. Over and over he repeats the sensational
process, shivers of pleasure traveling throughout her body, nipples becoming very erect. Suddenly
he stops, her eyes flash open, with a little smile and wink, he tells her time for breakfast. Taking her
small hand in his he pulls her to her feet, letting go of her hand and offering her his arm. With a
small curtsy she places her hand in the crook of his arm, he leads her out the door.
TO BE CONTINUED...
