She was pacing.

Up and down, to and fro, five long strides forward, a spin on her cloth-clad heel and another five strides across the room. It was maddening and she had long ago forgone the ridiculous head piece her ladies maid had insisted on dressing her with. As for her neat hairdo--the current fashion of all ladies--it had been murdered with three quick tugs at strategic pins.

"Hah! Useless poking things," she muttered to herself when she thought back to earlier that morning. Her uncle, current ruler of the lands, had insisted on her presence at the jousting field. "As though I were interested in watching fools grunt and bang their heads against each other's. They're no better than their snorting steeds!" Either way, her arm had been bent and she had been trussed up like so much fine turkey for the benefit of her round and pompous uncle.

"And what happens? I get kidnapped, that's what happened!" she raged to herself in the circular, stone room. "And get thrown over some ass' shoulder like a common sack of wheat before being dumped on the floor of a tower room!" She glared out the single window of her prison. "Such an unimaginative cow! A tower room of all things!"

Her pacing was fast turning into unlady-like stomps as her ire increased.

"Right. Obviously, I need a plan. There's no bed which means no bedding so creating one of those little cloth ropes to slide out the window and down the tower is out of the question," she thought frantically. "Not that I would have been terribly keen on that either. The bedding would probably have turned out to be too scarce to make a long enough rope and I would have looked ridiculous trying to climb down the tower in this outfit."

She stared in disgust down at her full skirt of deep red. Fine embroidery circled her bodice and sleeves but they only made her feel more incensed.

"For the love of scrolls and harolds... there's no way I could fit this skirt out that window anyway. It's as big as the soldiers' tents and could probably house several of them comfortably as well."

"Right. Plan of escape if I want to avoid becoming Sir Black-Knight-with-the-brains-of-a-sheep's object of affections. God only knows what he does with them. Probably ties them to the wall and goes about doing unmentionable things to them. Arrogant jackass," she muttered.

"All right, digressing." She looked at the only object in the room save for the gawdy tapestry on the wall above the door. "The chair is too heavy for me to lift and the wood too sturdy to break. So using it to club some sense into the ogre is out of the question." She sighed to herself as she finally stopped her pacing and sat on the afore mentioned chair.

"I suppose I could wait for the fool to come up and stand close enough to me before I go for his family jewels. But knowing the man, his ...things are probably as dense as his skull. Maybe a knee would be sufficient though."

She couldn't help it. She started to laugh. "If only Uncle could see me now. Sitting in a locked tower room contemplating the best possible course to making a eunuch out of a knight; albeit a very dense and barbaric knight." If her laugh held a tinge of hysteria, she ignored it.

She didn't know just how long she sat there, staring at the stone floor and mulling over numerous plans of escape--all of which she quickly discarded as inefficient.

"I may be smart and I certainly like to think that brains rule over braun, but damn if that goblin isn't built like the ox he is!"

"My thanks for noticing, mi'lady," came a wry voice.

Geneveieve's head snapped up at the unexpected presence of Sir Black. Musterring her fiercest glare, she stared into the eyes of the man who kidnapped her.

"Maybe if I stare hard enough, his hair will catch fire."

"Oh, I don't think that'll happen. Unless, of course, mi'lady happens to be a demon?" he asked.

"Damn, did I just think outloud again?"

"Yes." His black eyes showed his amusement.

"...Bugger."

A raised eyebrow from her captor was all the reply she got for her unladylike cursing. Leaning back against the wall opposite her, Sir Black, impromptu kidnapper of Lady Geneveieve and Lord of Castle Noir, pitched himself in an age old battle of bloodless war. A staring contest. Or, in Geneveieve's case, a glaring contest.

After several moments of tense silence, Geneveieve let out a gusty sigh and slumped back in her chair.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to let me go?" she asked in a weary voice.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, m'lady."

"Well, I'll tell you right now that I won't agree to any marriage. So you might as well bring out the torturing devices now and get it over with, because this wait is really quite tiring," she said with a dramatic wave of her hand.

"Marriage?" came his bewildered reply.

"Yes. I simply won't agree to it. You'll probably have to force the priest to wed us against my will, but let me remind you, sir, that I am a woman. I have many ways of making a man's life hell, especially if I put my mind to it. A woman scorned and all that, you understand," she said in a mild tone.

"Wed us?" Sir Black's eyes were starting to resemble the gold coins her uncle so loved--large and round. It was really quite humorous.

"And I've finally lost my mind," Geneveieve thought to herself. "It's probably the only reason why I'm sitting here having a conversation with the man; and a relatively interesting conversation, too. After all, I'd have to be insane to enjoy a conversation with one of the many fools out there with big heads that are undoubtedly hollow."

"What exactly is it about me that makes you think I'm dumb?" Black asked with a notably curious voice that lacked anger.

"Damn. I thought out loud again, didn't I?"

A nod of his head was all the answer she needed. Well, she might as well humour the man.

"In the first place, all men are fools. No offence meant, of course--no wait, I do mean to offend--but the fact remains that men are like horses. Largely built with evident strength, and just as dumb. The fact that you actually kidnapped me, daughter of the late King William and niece of the current king, just proves my point," she answered with a fluorish.

"And, has the fact that you'll be relying on a group of men to come to your rescue occured to you yet? A group of men who are undoubtedly... fools?" He might as well have been talking about the weather. His tone was light with a tinge of bordem.

"Well, of course it occured to me. Which is why I'm coming up with my own escape plan," Geneveieve answered back.

"And have you thought of this escape plan yet?"

"As a matter of fact, I have," she answered with a glint in her eyes that belied the gentle upturn of her lips.

"Oh? I suppose you'll be keeping it a secret then?" Black asked in a voice that said he fully expected her to say yes.

"Heavens, no! I'm going to tell you every single bit of my plans!" Geneveieve replied cheerfully.

She nearly laughed. Sir Black's reaction to her answer was truly comical. It would seem her practice at becoming a harridan and avoiding all those worthless suitors, dandies more like, was paying off. This was going to be fun. She was sure of it.

"You are?" Black asked in a voice reeking of confusion.

"Oh yes! It wouldn't work otherwise."

"And what, exactly, might this plan be?"

"You, Sir Black, are going to play a game of chess with me," Geneveieve announced firmly.

"Chess?"

"Yes, and we're going to wager over it."

"Wager?" he parroted.

"Mmmhmm." Obviously, he was stunned at the fact that she even knew about wagering. After all, no gently bred maiden talked about such things, much less suggest doing them. Desperate times called for desperate measures, however, and she sure as hell didn't have any qualms about acting out of the norm.

"The wager, Sir Black, is my freedom. If you win, I will stay here and be... whatever you want me to be," she barely managed to keep from shuddering at the last part of her announcement. "And if I win, I not only get my freedom, but your lands as well."

A surreal silence descended over the two as the challenger prayed that her plan would work and the challengee stared in amazement at his opponent.

Finally, with a grin, Black answered, "Agreed."

Yes! An advantageous situation indeed. Not only would Geneveieve be free, but she would soon gain the lands of this useless ox and would be able to trade it for enough funds to finally visit the Great Library of Egypt. Of course, she'd trade it with her cousin who was not only well mannered, but also a fair overlord. Oh yes, it was, without a doubt, an advantageous situation. After all, no one beat her at chess.

Now, if she could only find a way to get rid of the tent she had on for a comfortable pair of robes.

~~~~~

Sir Black watched his captive as she stared off yet again, obviously lost in thought. Her smirk told him that she was confident in her victory but he knew something she didn't.

He hadn't lost a chess game to anyone since he was three. And that was only once, when he played the game for the first time.

Oh, this was going to be fun.

**************************************

No, I am not on crack. No, this is not a romance. No, I did not get hit on the head by rabid squirrels pelting jars of peanut butter.

I'm just going through some interesting ups and downs. And damn if this little idea hasn't been drilling its way through the many walls in my mind. It's eating me alive, I tell you! Alive!

...Ahem. There'll probably be a continuation to this. I'll see if I can't just purge out all these irritating juices.

NOTE: I didn't bother to check the damn shit. So, read with a large bottle of vodka on hand.

NOTE 2: I probably should have put that first note at the top, shouldn't I? Well... I don't care! If I have to suffer having these maniacal ideas rotting my mind, then I'm bringing all of you down with me! Muahahahahaha! I hear they have great liquor in hell.