The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

There had been many mornings, when they were both younger, where Angela had been called upon to pound on the princess’ door in the morning. The door was locked from the inside at night — such was the consequence of having an ancestor known as Anthony the Poisoned — and Gabrielle could be a stubborn riser, especially in times of cold weather.

So it was quite the surprise when Angela climbed the stairs to the queen’s bedchamber on the morning after that first session and saw the door standing ajar. She could hear from within the sounds of Gabrielle humming one of the old folk standards, off-tune as always (Her Majesty had many talents, but vocal performance was not one of them).

Angela poked her head into the doorway, rapping softly on the wood. “My lady?”

“Come in!” She was wearing a grey sweater over a housedress, normally the sort of clothing one associated with an old maid in decline. But the sweater was too big for her — it had probably been her mother’s — and that made Gabrielle look five years younger, bounding about the bedchamber like a girl who had just come of age. Her face shined, and the gray eyes were more lively than they’d been since the Lady Catherine had passed.

“This is unexpected,” Angela said, moving carefully into the room. “No sleepwalking, I trust?”

“No sleepwalking,” Gabrielle said. “The finest night of sleep I’ve ever had, in fact.”

“A strong claim, from one who slept under royal bedsheets,” Angela said. She often deployed that sort of sarcasm to keep Gabrielle from becoming, as Angela liked to say, “too royal.” Here it seemed to work, as Angela saw that the queen was blushing.

“What do I have today?” Gabrielle asked.

“Percy Runier wishes to breakfast again,” Angela said. “Then the Council at mid-morn. After lunch, the Seers.”

“Percy,” Gabrielle said.

Casual company would not have recognized the queen’s tone as disgusted, but Angela knew her too well. “What?” Angela said. “He did not seem untoward yesterday.”

“He was perfectly decent yesterday,” Gabrielle said. “Being wooed by him just feels … wrong.”

“’Twould be a fine match,” Angela said. “He needs nothing from you, nor you from him.”

“That’s the problem,” Gabrielle said. “The kingdom would run better if we were separate.”

“I don’t understand,” Angela said.

Gabrielle shook her head. It was more of a feeling than a thing she could describe: joining forces with the Runiers would breed laziness. Maybe it would not be their children, or grandchildren. But, at some point, the sloth born of such a unity of wealth and power would infect a child, turning him or her so spoiled and selfish as to destroy the kingdom and cost countless lives. She knew it as surely as she knew the sun would rise tomorrow, and that was why she could not share his bed.

Not to mention the fact that she’d dreamed of sharing an entirely different bed last night.

“When will I have time for another session with Prudence?” Gabrielle said, trying to keep her voice casual.

“Not until the evening, Gabby,” Angela said. “She has to go to her troupe this morning, tell them she is staying in Vessia. She said she would have to do a going-away show, as well.”

Casual company would not have recognized the Handmaiden’s tone as anxious, but Gabrielle knew her too well. “All will be fine, Angie,” the queen said. “Have faith.”

“The church hasn’t earned my faith yet,” Angela said, “and I’ve known them much longer than I’ve known her.”

“Well,” Gabrielle said lightly, “at least the sleepwalking is ended!”

“I’ll believe that when I see it, also,” Angela said. “One night can be luck. When it’s a week, I may believe it’s a trend.”

“Quite a bit can happen in a week,” Gabrielle said, unaware that she was speaking prophecy.

Percy Runier was, indeed, trying to woo her. And, Gabrielle had to admit, he was pretty damned good at it.

He brought roses, ostensibly to be laid at the grave of Gabrielle’s mother, but his eyes said something different when she smiled as she took the bouquet from him. He complemented her on the scrambled eggs they ate for breakfast, as though she had prepared them herself, instead of the castle cooks. He offered his help again with the agriculture concerns, which she politely declined. At every step he avoided any appearance of improper advances or boorish propositions; after all, her mother’s grave was fresh enough for him to have supplied it with roses.

He seemed to understand how well it all worked when he said, near to the conclusion of their breakfast, “My lady, you seem somewhat distant today. Does my presence here offend?”

At that moment, Gabrielle felt every part of her body confirming what she had felt during the dream the night before. A handsome, charming man had fired every arrow in Cupid’s quiver at her, aiming for her heart with the best accuracy he could muster. In response, all she wanted was to sit opposite Prudence and gaze into those dark blue eyes.

“Of course not, Lord Runier,” she said. “It is I, who must apologize. The business of the kingdom weighs on my mind. I find it difficult to offer my full attention so early in the day.”

“Of course, my lady,” Percy said. “The business of a kingdom offers so little time for normal human emotion. At whatever time the weight of the crown is less heavy, I shall be your humble servant.”

Gabrielle personally escorted him to the front gate; it was the least she could do, in response to his charm offensive. When she returned to the innards of the castle, Angela was waiting for her. She didn’t need to tell Angela how the breakfast had gone. From her position in the background, Angela had noticed as easily as Percy had.

“What are you doing?” Angela demanded. “Gabby, if you send him away, do you know how many forty-year-old boors are going to come calling? Vessia has as many of them as London!”

“It didn’t feel right, Angie,” Gabrielle said.

“You think that your virtue can last forever, and that every man values it equally,” Angela pressed on. “You’ll realize what you were missing when the next one won’t even let you finish a sentence.”

“I know what I am missing, Angela,” Gabrielle said, grinning impishly. “And I know what to do with my virtue better than anyone. Even you.”

Angela looked at that grin and wondered.

Prudence arrived at mid-day, which was later than the players expected her. Still, they all arrived late from time to time, and there was no panic in her makeshift camp. Mostly.

“Morphelia!” Rolf called as he lumbered up to her. “Where have you been!?”

“And a good morning to you as well,” Prudence said dryly.

Rolf came to a stop about a foot away. He glanced around to see if anyone was watching their conversation, in a way that looked so obviously guilty that Prudence had to suppress laughter. “Was there a problem with her?” he asked. “Is the law involved?”

“Nothing of the sort,” Prudence said. “Call the group over.”

She told them that day’s show would be her last of the season, that she had found a wealthy gentry woman who wished to explore her past lives. It wasn’t new to them; she’d done something similar two winters ago, and the year before that, a Dutch duke had offered so much money for her services that she had taken two weeks out of the middle of a summer. Thus, there were no tears or regretful good-byes. They simply nodded and wished her a warm winter, made plans to meet up in Amsterdam in this spring, and went back to preparing for the final show.

However, Rolf didn’t buy it. He looked at her sharply when she said she was staying, and frowned deeply at her wealthy-gentry lie. After the meeting, he followed her back to her makeshift changing tent. “It’s her, isn’t it?” he said, quietly and without preamble. “Amanda Darling.”

“I don’t know what you mean, Rolf,” Prudence said. “Amanda Darling was a scullery maid. She can’t afford me.”

“You’ve never aimed this high before,” Rolf said. “It’s dangerous.”

“Rolf, I don’t know what you are talking about,” Prudence said, her voice near a whisper. “But even if I did, the best way I could handle it is on my own. I wouldn’t want anyone else in the troupe to be involved. Do you understand?”

Rolf fumed. “Stubborn wench,” he muttered. “I never should’ve let you go on with that show.”

“You drank pretty well off of the money this wench made for you,” Prudence said, with a lopsided grin. “Now leave me be, so I can change into my performing clothes.”

The hesitant and fumbling queen of that disastrous first Council meeting was gone. Her replacement was not necessarily more knowledgeable, though Gabrielle had done her homework in the intervening days. But, Gabrielle found herself more aggressive in the areas where she had knowledge, and more willing to command the discussion in areas where she did not.

When the Bishop of the Vessian church asked her if she knew how many debtors had begged the church for leniency in the past month, she said, “I know not, but I know your opulence is more than their match,” which raised eyebrows throughout the room.

When the Minister of Agriculture returned to the issue of the bad feed from Spain, she suggested he negotiate a number ten percent lower than he had suggested during their meeting, and when he attempted to protest she replied, “Minister, we have spoken on it, and shall speak no longer.”

At last, the meeting closed with the Captain of the Guard rising from his seat. “Your Majesty,” he said, “I request a second battalion be sent to the border with Germania, to address the aforementioned threat.”

Gabrielle cocked an eyebrow. “’Threat,’ Captain?” she said. “There is no news of combat from our army, is there?”

“Just because there is no fighting today,” the Captain said, “does not mean there shall be no fighting tomorrow.”

“If there is fighting tomorrow,” the queen said, “I have my full trust in the battalion already sent.”

“But, my queen, we have reason to think the Germans are aggressive indeed, and may attack any day.”

“There are but three battalions in this woman’s army,” Gabrielle said, displaying knowledge she had acquired in response to the ugly meeting. “I shall not use more than one of them for the purpose of intimidation.”

The Captain set his jaw, and seemed ready to remonstrate, but instead he sat back down without another word. Prudence was not allowed in this room, but if she had been, Angela might have saluted her.

After the ministers were dismissed, Gabrielle went over to Angela. The queen felt like she was floating on a cloud, barely needing to walk about the room. “Too much, do you think?” She asked quietly.

“Perhaps too much if you did it every day,” Angela said, her voice equally quiet. “But just right for today.”

“I want another session with Prudence,” Gabrielle said.

Angela said, “Is it not wiser to move slowly—“

“Angela, I have heard your concerns many times,” Gabrielle said. “They are noted. Now you must take note, of the fact that I have never before felt so strong and sure. And after but one session! Whatever secrets her technique holds, I must know them.”

“Aye, m’lady,” Angela said.

The farewell show was fine. Nothing special, nothing disastrous, just … fine. The hypnosis volunteers went about as deep as they always did, to a medium place that made Prudence long for the seemingly infinite depth that “Amanda Darling” had achieved. Prudence tried to keep her interest in them, to stay in character as Morphelia, but in her heart of hearts she was already somewhere else.

She begged off on joining the players at a tavern after the show, and walked to the castle. It was still afternoon — as the sun set earlier, they had to start their shows earlier — and she had much to think about and plan for during her walk. She was trying to understand that kiss, in the alley, and why it had happened when she had thought it should not have.

She was worried about dealing with the guards at the front gate, but it turned out that Angela was waiting for her. “Welcome back, Prudence,” she said, nodding politely.

After they were some distance from the guards, Prudence finally answered. “Thank you for not having me thrown out,” she said dryly.

“Her Majesty would be quite angry if I did,” Angela said. “She’s quite eager to go again.”

“I’m glad,” Prudence said, thinking of the kiss.

“There’s just one thing that concerns me,” Angela said.

“By all means, tell me,” Prudence said.

“She’s too happy. That sounds so ridiculous when I say it out loud, but...”

“But it’s not yet been a fortnight since her mother’s passing. You expected her to grieve longer.”

“Just so,” Angela said.

“It’s probably nothing,” Prudence said. “You were both terrified about the sleepwalking. Being free of it is a tremendous release. It will feel good.”

Angela cocked an eyebrow. “How did you know she didn’t sleepwalk? I didn’t say that.”

“I know when my techniques are working, Miss Angela. I was sure she wouldn’t sleepwalk. It doesn’t mean my work is done here.”

“We’ll see how much work you have left after her meeting,” Angela said. Prudence didn’t ask who the meeting was with, and Angela felt no compulsion to tell her. If either of them had done otherwise, later on they might have found themselves in much less danger.

The first group of Seers had arrived during the reign of the Lady Catherine’s grandmother. The role had passed down from father to son, with the wives usually servants in the castle. Legend had it that part of their magic was the ability to conceive male heirs at will, which was why each generation of seers were always three men.

The Seers had their own tower, the shortest in the entire castle complex, little more than a three-story stone building. The tower door had armed guards posted, and the building had its own kitchen and servants. Angela made it a point to meet with and visit those servants regularly, to make sure there were no bizarre goings-on in the Seers’ tower, and so far she had heard nothing untoward.

The armed guards bowed to their queen, and after Gabrielle bade them rise, she entered the tower. The bottom floor was the kitchen, the middle floor the Seers’ sleeping quarters, and the top floor was where they did their business. The Seers were not the sort to greet visitors or make small talk, so a single servant led the queen to the top floor, and did not follow her inside the single door at the top of the stairs.

The room was a huge rectangle, large enough to contain an oval drawn in charcoal on the floor. The oval depicted the cosmos, as the Seers interpreted it. A large circular table represented Earth in the center, while smaller tables for the Sun, Venus, and Mars were elsewhere in the circle. Various stars, constellations, and comets decorated the floor space outside the circle, as well as the walls and ceiling.

Around the Earth table stood three men, wearing heavy robes: Cian, Cu, and Cethe. Gabrielle assumed that their names had been taken from some obscure book, or a piece of mythology that she had not been taught in her studies.

Cian was the eldest, and had ever been the leader. “Good day, my Queen,” he said, bowing his head. The other two silently followed suit.

“Cian,” Gabrielle said, nodding. “I hope the day sees all three of you well.”

“It does, thank you, my Queen,” Cian said. “Your signs are sharp and vivid today. I suspect you will learn much from meeting with us.”

“As you say,” Gabrielle said. She considered saying something cheeky about the Seers’ failure to predict the weather of her coronation day, but decided against it.

Cu and Cethe wordlessly moved to tables at outer orbits. Cu was a specialist in interpreting the signs of flesh: everything from reading a person’s palm to divining meaning from bones and animal entrails. Cethe was an astrologer, reading the future from stars and planets.

Cian, the leader, took a seat at the Earth table. He specialized in no one discipline, but knew a little bit about several different methods, including those used by his partners. Gabrielle moved to sit opposite him. There was a large crystal ball in the center of the table, though it was covered by a black felt cloth at the moment.

“It has been some time, my Queen,” Cian said. They had not met in two weeks, as it had become clear that the queen mother was in the final days of her illness. “We were saddened to hear of the passing of your mother.”

“Thank you,” Gabrielle said. The grief weighed on her, as she began to realize how many times she was going to have to hear that exact sentiment in the coming days, and give that exact sentence in response. Hundreds?

“’Tis an unpredictable time,” Cian said. “Immediately after losing a loved one, we begin to wonder how it will be with ourselves. How many days we have left, and how they will end. This on top of the pain and loss.”

“Aye,” Gabrielle said. The statement was true enough, describing much of what her internal dialogue had been since her mother’s eyes had closed for the final time. “Proceed, sir.”

“Of course,” Cian said. He pulled the cloth off of the crystal ball with a minimum of theatricality. It was a handsome and expensive-looking piece of crystal, no larger than her own head.

“Let us see what the crystal has to say,” Cian said. “Focus on the ball with me. Let us try to see our futures in it.”

Gabrielle looked, seeing nothing in particular.

“Take a deep breath in, and hold it,” Cian said.

Gabrielle inhaled, and held the breath, feeling its weight in her chest. Just as the ghost of a thought (Isn’t this the same thing that Prudence does?) started to form in her mind, the Seer said, “Do you see your stars?“

Gabrielle’s shoulders sagged and her head moved loosely, as though she were a puppet whose puppeteer had let a degree of slack into the strings. Her eyelids drooped, then opened, the gray irises having grown distant and glassy.

The rest of the room seemed to recede, but the ball stayed in perfect focus. Pinpricks of light began to dance inside of it, like stars twinkling in the night sky.

Gabrielle did not try to recapture the thought she’d almost had. It was not important. Only the stars were important.

“Yes,” she murmured.

Cian had been hypnotizing the princess for three years.

He’d learned the talent from his father, who had claimed to have learned it in the Orient. His father had taught him hypnosis along with astrology and reading palms and all of the other tools of the trade. His father had emphasized many of the same rules for keeping subjects safe that Prudence had already tried to explain to Gabrielle and Angela, and he taught Cian all of the ways in which he should exercise caution.

From day one, Cian had not given one good goddamn about caution.

He’d understood, at a younger age than Cu and Cethe, that their fathers were frauds. He had no problem with the fraud itself — it was a trade, with its own tradecraft and discipline, no less than blacksmithing or the raising of chickens. But, he had asked himself, what rewards did they reap from their craft? A good blacksmith could become wealthy making rare blades for royalty and landed gentry; all these gifted Seers could manage was room and board? Unacceptable.

Cian believed that hypnosis was the proper tool to reverse that state of affairs. He had probed the possibility with the Lady of the Fire. He had never said the word “hypnosis” directly to her, nor had he even bothered to attempt to induce trance. The Lady Of The Fire was simply too suspicious. Her daughter was another matter.

Even with the aid of a rare and special potion, it had been months before he could implant the phrase Do you see your stars to bring her under quickly. It had been months more, before he could get her to tell him anything of use. And, recently, her mother’s illness had forced him to step lightly, because intense stress could still rouse her from any given trance. Still, his patience would be rewarded, and greater rewards would come the longer he could maintain it. Of that much, he was sure.

“Where are you?” he asked.

“Floating among the stars,” Gabrielle said in her sleepy monotone. The phrase was the same every time, a safeguard that he had implanted in order for her to tell him Yes, the triggers so far have worked.

“And when you come back to Earth, what do you remember?”

“Rubbish,” she said. “You’re nothing but harmless rubbish.”

The gray eyes of de Vess were distant, like the sky just before a light drizzle. How Cian would have loved to see that blank stare from the Lady of the Fire. Pity. “You’re doing so well, Gabrielle,” he told her. “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” she said remotely.

Cian frowned. The girl’s mother had died since he’d seen her last. He could not think of a more inappropriate word for her mood. “You miss your mother, do you not?”

“Yes,” Gabrielle said. “But Prudence is helping me.”

A new person in her life, Cian thought. Interesting. “It would help me so much if you told me about Prudence,” he said, ever careful to couch the command as a helpful suggestion.

“She’s.” The words seemed to cost her great effort to say. “A hypnotist.”

Cian’s head spun as though on a swivel. He glanced at Cu first, then Cethe, and the looks of shock and horror on their faces mirrored what was in his own heart. “That’s wonderful, Gabrielle,” he said, rising from his seat. “Drifting among the stars, feeling so peaceful.”

He went to Cethe first, as the youngest among them was ever the first to panic. “We’re doomed,” Cethe whispered.

“Be calm,” Cian said. “If they knew anything for certain, we would already be in irons by now.”

“They must suspect us,” Cu hissed, as he arrived at their side. “Why else would they find another hypnotist?”

“That’s right,” Cethe said. “How many other hypnotists can there be in the world?”

“I don’t care how many of them there are,” Cu said, “What is another hypnotist doing here?”

“In the time it takes us to find that answer, we could all be caught and killed,” Cethe said. “I say we leave, now. Find another kingdom.”

Cian nodded his head toward the entranced queen. “Some part of her mind knows everything we’ve done. The hypnotist will discover it if we leave.”

Cu drew a finger, blade-like, across his throat.

“No!” Cian hissed. “We may as well kill ourselves, as do such a thing!” Under deep hypnosis, Gabrielle had told them enough about Angela that Cian had a healthy respect for what she was capable of.

Cethe knew his tone well. “You’re not seriously going to propose that we stay?” he asked. “Continue to deceive the kingdom?”

“There is no kingdom,” Cian said. “With everyone else, we can muddy the waters, claim that the queen was merely hysterical and confused. The only danger is from Angela, and this hypnotist … and we know what they know.”

He looked over at Gabrielle, still gazing blankly into the ball. “We have a scout who can tell us everything Angela has learned, if we ask the right questions. Who will relay any misinformation to the enemy that we wish, if we suggest to her correctly. We have everything we need to win the throne.”

(Gabrielle’s constellation was Cassiopeia.)

(Her mother had pointed it out to her, years ago. Gabrielle had become fascinated with Cassiopeia because she was the only queen in the sky; there were other women, like Artemis, but only one queen. “They’ll make space for me up there one day,” young Gabby would tell herself, “after I’ve been as great as Cassie.")

(Cassie had never looked as beautiful as she did inside the crystal. There were the five largest stars that most people thought of when they remembered Cassiopeia, forming the shape of a W scrawled on the night sky. But in addition, there were so many smaller stars that fleshed out the shape, and gave her the true look of royalty on the throne, her eyes twinkling with knowledge both important and terrifying.)

(In time the voice said, “I’m glad that Prudence is helping you.” The voice was familiar, but she made no effort to place it. It was so much easier to look at the stars and listen. “I’d like to help her help you. You would like that, yes.")

Yes.

(“It would help me to know where Prudence comes from. Do you know.")

(Flash of images through her mind: the traveling players from every country in Europe, Prudence dressed entirely in black in no recognizable style, the vaguest suggestion of a French accent when she said her name, a different accent otherwise.)

I don’t know.

(“It’s all right, Gabrielle. Rest.”)

(Gabrielle looked at Cassiopeia. The voice was right about how restful it was. The voice was usually right about these things.)

(“Gabrielle, it would help me to know how you met Prudence. Do you know.")

She was with a group of traveling players. I saw their act in the city. I fell under her spell, asleep but not asleep. I asked her to stay in the castle, so I could understand how she did that to me.

(Gabrielle drifted among the stars, lost in Cassie’s beauty. Her twinkling was so soothing.)

(The voice said, “You know so little about Prudence, yes?” And Gabrielle knew it was true; she’d only met Prudence a few days ago, had discussed nothing personal with her.)

Yes.

(The voice said, “She is a stranger to you, yes?” and Gabrielle was too relaxed to think of any other reply.)

Yes.

(The voice said, “You hide the secrets we talk about from strangers, yes?”)

Yes.

(The voice said, “You’ve done so well, Gabrielle. When you leave the stars, what will you remember.")

Rubbish.

(“Yes, that’s right. One, feeling the stars recede. Two, the sensation returning to your hands and feet. Three, energy filling your body. Four, your mind clearing.")

“Five,” Cian said.

Gabrielle blinked. The crystal ball was as empty and indifferent as it had always been. “Pardon?”

“Five days. Is that how long it’s been? Since the Lady of the Fire passed?”

“I think so. God, it’s been such a blur.”

“I understand, my lady.” He gestured toward the table where Cethe stood. “Let see what the stars have to say about your first fortnight of rule.”

“Of course,” Gabrielle said, suppressing a smirk. If he read the stars as weakly as he had done last time, she faced little gain from using an hour or two of her afternoon on this.

But little harm either. After all, it was just rubbish.