Chance Encounter

In the darkness, she reached behind herself into her backpack and grabbed a flare. She could still feel his warm body pressed against hers, so she stepped back a little so as not to hurt him before lighting it. The room fizzed into light. The boy jumped back from the flare suddenly, losing his composure ever so briefly before clearing his throat and raising his eyebrows impudently at her.
‘More fireworks?’
She curled her lip. ‘Just shedding a little light on the situation.’
They both looked up. With the tiny room lit up, they could now see that the walls reached up about a hundred feet, with a ladder running up the narrow chamber from a couple of meters above the floor. High up, on the wall opposite the ladder, was another switch, and there, at the top...
‘Ah. So there’s the door.’
‘Shouldn’t be a problem,’ muttered the youth, craning his head upwards, ‘I’d better see to the switch.’
Shaking her head, she pushed him back gently.
‘I think I’ve seen enough of your switch pulling skills,’ she smiled, ‘I don’t really want any more floors to disappear from beneath my feet.’
With that, she clamped her teeth around the flare and leapt up to grab the ladder.
She kept her eyes on the door in the ceiling, but could hear the boy grab the ladder easily and begin climbing behind her. She remembered what she had been looking at when it had ben her following him in the tunnel, and was glad that she wasn’t the type to wear a skirt. She glanced down at him momentarily, hoping to catch him looking at her, but he just blinked at her, innocently. Drawing level with the switch, she wordlessly leapt from the ladder, pressing her body against the switch before using it to push herself straight off it again, flipping herself around to grab the ladder once more. Gazing up at her, the boy let out a low whistle of admiration as the trapdoor in the ceiling above them slid open.
‘Very impressive. I didn’t think a girl could do that sort of thing.’
Her mouth still full of flare, she couldn’t respond, but narrowed her eyes at him as she continued the climb.

Pulling herself through the trapdoor, she found herself in a small room. There was a fountain in the wall, and two doors on opposite sides of the room, both leading to much larger chambers. She offered a helping hand down to the boy, which he politely ignored, the shining muscles on his arms taughtening as he lifted himself out of the hole. He nodded to the fountain.
‘See? I told you. You can fill up here.’
‘Quite.’ She dunked her open gourd into the fountain, refilling it with clean, cold water.
She looked from one door to the other. ‘Which door, do you reckon?’
The boy stared into the room through the door on the left. The unmistakable flash of already-activated traps shone at the far end of it. Nodding to himself, he turned to the door on the right.
‘This way.’
‘Wait a minute.’
The lad was forced to jerk to a halt as she grabbed the thin remnants of his shirt to stop him.
She smiled sweetly at his irritated expression as she turned to face her. She indicated the room on the left.
‘That room has treacherous, spinning blades.’
He forced her hand from the straps on his chest. ‘That’s exactly my point.’
She tutted. *Kids!*
‘Deadly, razor sharp traps are a good thing.’
‘Really.’ He raised an eyebrow.
‘Really! It means we’re going in the right direction. Nobody ever bothers setting up traps en route to the toilets or the staff room.’ She ignored the blank look in his eyes and stepped towards the room on the left. ‘Whoever made this place had something to protect beyond those traps...’
She was caught off guard as the boy grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her back, snapping her bra strap against her skin accidentally as he did. She turned to him furiously, untwisting the strap of elastic on her shoulder.
‘What?’
‘It’s the wrong way.’
‘No it’s not. Trust me, when you’ve been doing this as long as I have...’
The boy snorted a bitter laugh.
‘You have no idea...’
‘Oh really?’ she leaned into him, arms folded, ‘Well, I tell you what, I’ll go the right way, you go the wrong way, and we’ll see who gets their sticky little hands on the treasure first, shall we?’
She watched as the lad’s handsome face fell into a frown, and, when it was certain that he wasn’t going to give in, turned back and began to stride into the room on the left.
‘Don’t go...’
She stopped, smirking to herself, and turned back to the boy, slowly.

He looked sad. More so than the expression in his face was letting on. He was looking at the floor, biting his lip against his outburst. But as he lifted his bright blue eyes sheepishly to meet hers, she saw it again. That out-of place antiquity that she had seen in them the first time she had looked at him. She was reminded of an age-old artwork she had exhumed once, that had been buried alone in the dark for thousands of years when it should have spent its life being enjoyed in the light. The painting had been of a pretty young man, like this one, full of life and vitality. She remembered looking into the painted eyes of the boy in the picture and wondering at the irony that such a lively youth had been turned into a relic, buried alive and alone. She remembered feeling a pang of solitude and misery as she’d gazed at it. She felt it again now.

‘Kid...’ she sighed, ‘I’m sure you’re a perfectly nice lad, but I didn’t come here to make a boyfriend. I’m here for treasure. Cold, hard treasure. And I work alone.’
The boy shook his head, miserably. ‘It’s dangerous. And needless. I’m trying to get out of here. So would you if you had any sense.’
She stroked a small strand of his glossy hair out of his eyes, the way she had when their swords had been locked.
‘That’s just my trouble,’ she smiled at him, sadly. ‘Not an ounce of sense.’
He really was pretty. And he wanted her to stay with her. If she’d have had time, she’d have considered it. If they were back in Blighty, back in her mansion or at a party somewhere, if she had the time to spare, she would have liked to pour him a drink, and sit down with him and talk to him, about the adventures he’d had, about how he had trained, about why he looked so ancient and lonely. And maybe... maybe even, if the mood was right and the time was right and she had a little privacy... maybe even kiss him. She didn’t know where that urge was coming from. It wasn’t pity or irritation that was causing her to feel... hormonally... about the lad. She was sure that it wasn’t even the sense of having found a kindred spirit. She just Felt It. For the first time in years there was that leap in her heart whenever she glanced at him. If she’d have had the time... but she didn’t. Not for him. Not if he was running away from the danger while she was running towards it.
She turned back into the rooms with the traps. ‘Thanks for the sword!’

‘What makes you so sure there even is any treasure any more?’ cried the boy from behind her, desperately.
That stopped her in her tracks. She frowned to herself, gazing at the the swirling blades as they flashed at the end of the room.
*Traps like that,* she reasoned to herself, *are never just left running. They’re hidden away in the walls until somebody runs past, and sets them off...*
She turned to the boy, glowering. ‘You!’
The lad blinked, his face darkening at the dangerous expression in her eyes. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘You’ve been here before, haven’t you?’ She took a couple of steps towards the youth. ‘You recognised this room. You set those traps off.’
‘What if I have?’ spat the lad, uneasy again, ‘I told you, I’m trying to escape.’
‘You’re leaving,’ she seethed, ‘because you’ve already taken the treasure.’
The boy took a cautionary step backwards as she continued to approach him, slowly.
‘Listen, My Lady, I told you before. I don’t chase treasure.’
She unholstered both pistols and pointed them at him so quickly that he barely saw her hands move.
‘Prove it,’ she snarled. ‘Strip.’
‘I don’t have to!’ exclaimed the youth, indigently, taking another step backwards.
‘Don’t think I won’t shoot you, Kid,’ she tried to keep her voice as steady as possible. ‘Don’t think I can’t get nasty if you come between me and my treasure.’
The boy scowled, unsheathing his sword with a swiftness similar to hers.
‘Don’t talk to me about things getting nasty, Lady. You have got no idea!’
‘Stop telling me I’ve got no idea about anything!’

She didn’t know why she did it. Maybe it was that her subconscious felt the need for a fair, honourable fight, maybe it was that she really couldn’t shoot the kid. Whatever reason it was for, she suddenly found her hands automatically dropping her beloved pistols to the floor, reaching for the sword behind her back and charging him with it. He blocked her easily, but she continued to push against him, angrily. He faltered backwards a little under her weight before lashing out with a foot, catching her on the shin.
She sucked air in through her teeth, sharply, stifling a cry of pain. He took advantage of her surprise and freed himself from the deadlock, swinging his sword back towards her. He wasn’t fast enough, however. She regained her composure and blocked two of his fast blows, completing her move with a retaliatory kick to the lad’s thigh. Narrowing his eyes at her, he launched himself into a backflip and attempted to swiftly somersault away. Not to be outdone by this bloody boy, she sprung into the air herself, aiming a swandive straight at his moving torso. She caught him by the hips and rolled with him to the ground, fighting for the upper hand and managing, with difficulty, to pin his hands down with her boots.
She sat upright on his furiously heaving torso and held the point of the sword he had so foolishly given her against his throat, enjoying the impudent rage growing in his eyes.

She curled her lips at him. ‘Heavier than I look, aren’t I?’
‘I thought it would be impolite to mention it...’ the boy managed.
She leaned into him a little. ‘What are you hiding, Kid?’
Remembering the strange way that the sand from the big beastie had been sucked into the boy’s chest, she reached down to the fragile straps of fabric tied about his chest and ripped them from him.
He winced as a tiny vial of glowing, golden sand rolled from his chest, to be caught in her free hand before it could clatter to the floor.
‘Ah-ha!’ Her eyes widened as she gazed at the shimmering treasure in her hand. ‘So this is it. The Sand of Time.’ She looked at the youth again. ‘I had no idea it’d be so small!’
‘Please...’ his eyes were shining with something else now. Fear. ‘Please, it’s dangerous. Give it back to me.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m not falling for that one, Kid. You stole it from the temple, now I’m stealing it from you. That’s just the way it goes.’
The boy struggled, desperately. ‘You don’t understand!’
‘Stop telling me I don’t understand!’ She rolled the tiny treasure around in her hand. ‘This pretty thing belongs in a museum.’
‘It belongs in oblivion!’ With one more desperate wriggle, he managed to free an arm from beneath her foot. Grabbing his sword again, he swung it up to rest against her throat. ‘Please, give it back,’ he croaked, ‘if that thing falls into the wrong hands... I don’t know what would happen. I have to get it back to my ti...’ he shook his head slightly, correcting himself, ‘...back to my country, and destroy it.’
Despite the blade against her skin, she pushed her own sword against the boy’s neck a little harder, so that it bit into him, ever so slightly. ‘You can’t destroy it!’
‘I have to.’ The lad seemed to be close to tears. ‘It’s my fault it ended up here in the first place. Please. Let me put this right. Give it back to me. Don’t make me kill you.’
‘You’re not going to get the chance,’ she replied, pushing the blade a little harder into him, and feeling the nick of retaliation on her own throat.

*Oh Shit. He’s not going to give in, is he? I’m going to have to kill him. I hate it when this happens!*

‘You stupid bloody boy,’ she sighed, ‘why didn’t you just go? You knew what I was here for, why didn’t you run while you had the chance?’
The lad smiled up at her, weakly. ‘I was still waiting for that kiss you promised me earlier.’
She blinked at him, their blades still against one another's’ skin, both now dribbling a thin line of blood. She blew the prone lad a kiss.
‘Not good enough,’ he smiled grimly.
‘Sorry,’ she sighed.
He should have seen it coming. After all, she still had him pinned, and still had a free arm. Her fist still clenched around the vial, she knocked his hand away from her throat, twisting the sword in her own hand upside down as she did. Before the boy could so much as react, she brought the sword’s hilt down against his temple, hard. He gasped in pain. She had not managed to knock him unconscious as she had hoped, but he seemed to have been dazed enough from her to get a good head start on him. She got to her feet, swiftly, sheathing her sword and turning on her heels to retrieve her pistols. She was not expecting the lad to lash out and catch her ankles as she did so, however, and fell, surprised, as he yanked her feet from under her. She tried to struggle against him as he pulled at her legs, throwing himself over her and catching her cheekbone with a quick right hook.
‘Don’t hit me, you little bastard!’
She grabbed his chin and pushed it away from her with all of her might as he tried to prize open the fingers that tightly clasped the vial.
‘Give me the damn Sands, woman! It’s not like you even know how to use them...’
He grunted in frustration as she pulled back at his face, slamming his head against the floor.
‘And you do?’ She rolled on top of him. ‘Show me.’
His hands shot up to grab hers, pulling her onto her side. They leaned into one another, their limbs straining as they both grappled to pin the other down.
‘Just give me the vial,’ he seethed.
‘Show me!’
‘Give it to me!’

Their faces were practically touching, their eyes locked like their bodies. She marvelled at the fury shining in those eyes. God, they were beautiful. If only she had time...
*You have time! You have the Sand of Time - that’s all the time in the world!*
She wondered what that extraordinary boy’s connection to her treasure really was. She could tell now, now that she’d seen those glittering sands, that there was something he shared with it. Those feelings she had for treasure, that jolt of desperate possessiveness, that... lust... for the first time ever, she was feeling them for a person...
*He is treasure! This wonderful, gorgeous, Shiny Thing, all locked up in an ancient temple.*
She smiled at him a little, the same predatory little smile she usually reserved for golden idols and ancient gems.
‘Give it to me...’ he growled, again.
‘Well,’ she whispered, ‘I suppose I did promise.’
The kid frowned. ‘What?’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘You asked for it.’
And she leaned in the extra centimetre that she needed for their lips to touch and, still not releasing his hands, met his surprised mouth with a hard, needful, passionate kiss.

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(Finally! A bit of frickin action! Thank you all for lovely reviews - they certainly made me get my ass in gear today and get chappy 3 done. Sorry it's taken a while, BTW - I was finishing another fic. *smiles sheepishly*
There really isn't enough adult fic about the Prince - he's bloody goreous, as computer characters go! And don't worry, Ryan - all shall be revealed in due time!
Aunt Fanny xxxx)