It took a couple of moments before Queen Moragana realized that she was crushing me against her breasts. I suppose if I’d been a man, I might have welcomed that, but I wasn’t, and I didn’t.
During this grab and pinch. I issued several squawks like those of a sick parrot, but the queen only pressed me closer. My breath was almost depleted, and I was feeling limp as a scarecrow deprived of its stick by the time she eased the pressure. Not released me. I was still caught in her amazingly strong arms, a wood-working vice clamp from two sides, or so it seemed.
“No, don’t harm them,” Queen Moragana thundered out, panic in her voice as well as urgent command, which I was sure the soldiers wouldn’t dare to oppose.
Okay, she’d said, “Don’t harm them.” Plural. So what was everyone but me seeing? The other queen’s troops finally showed up? Loyal servants had just dragged themselves in from the kitchen, armed with frying pans in order to do battle and defend their queen? Or perhaps, because this was Faeryland, could it be dragons and unicorns invading the palace?
With Queen Moragana’s command still reverberating through the huge chamber, she suddenly released me. I heaved several mighty breaths, stepped back so I wasn’t as close to her bosom, and then turned to see what all the fuss (and magic) was about.
What air I still had in my lungs, almost took wing in surprise. It was my own dear husband and the rest of the crew.
“Timothy!” I cried out, then flung myself forward, avoiding both queen’s attempt to prevent me from my gallop across the space between my darling love and my current position (just shy of that horrid bosom cuddle.)
The room was filled with soldiers in multiple poses, many of them still standing in attack mode, despite Queen Moragana’s command, but I ignored them all, consumed by my need to throw myself into my beloved’s arms.
I launched into him like a baseball player sliding into home, because that’s exactly what he was to me. He was my home, my safety, my comfort, my everything.
His arms were ready. He met my fierceness with an equal force that swung me up against his mighty chest. My feet dangled, but my lips didn’t. We seared together with an embrace that included a full-throttled emotional kiss which did its best to wipe away all the days we’d been apart.
Our lips traveled, reacquainted themselves to salvation, then returned to the source of all goodness. I suppose we would have kept that up for several hours, days, even months. (Okay brief exaggeration, but we were starved for each other, and that counts for a person’s kissing endurance.)
Anyway despite a room full of soldiers, stale food, queens, and three prisoners, we were completely deliriously enraptured in our personal celebration, but then, Bob, good old Bob, bobbed into the picture, throwing his arms about the two of us and hugging us with the kind of enthusiasm that breaks bones.