The Oak King's Daughter

On April 12, 2011, in Short Stories - Fiction, by Nancy_Bell

The Oak King’s Daughter
Back Cover
The Oak King’s Daughter is a Romance Fantasy. Dara, the Oak King’s daughter, is in love
with someone who her father deems unsuitable for her. Tinne, the court mage, is not worthy of
his daughter in the eyes of the Oak King. Secrets swirl around the mysterious mage. Is he master
of the events set in motion or merely a pawn?
Dara risks everything, including her father’s wrath, to run away with her lover. Dara
surrenders herself to Tinne, only to discover that the mage is more than what he seems.
The Oak King’s Daughter © 2011 by Emily Pikkasso
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by
any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information
storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Characters, names, places and incidents either are the product
of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons,
living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
A MuseItHOT Publication
MuseItUp Publishing
14878 James
Pierrefonds, Quebec, Canada
H9H 1P5
Cover Art © 2010 by Delilah K. Stephens
Edited by Antonia Tiranth
Copyedited by Penny Lockwood Ehrenkranz
Layout and Book Production by Lea Schizas
eBook ISBN: 978-1-926931-01-2
First eBook Edition * January 2011
Production by MuseItHOT Publishing
A division of MuseItUp Publishing
The Oak King’s Daughter
Emily Pikkasso
MuseitHOT, division of
MuseItUp Publishing
ADULT CONTENT: Contains graphic sexual content.
To the Lord and the Lady
The tales go on forever.
The Oak King’s Daughter
Dara looked out over the lawn from her perch in the arms of her big oak tree. She restlessly
wound a thick strand of hair around her finger. The red light of the evening sun slanted through
the golden leaves of the poplars ringing the grove of sacred oaks. Dara sighed as the crisp
autumn wind lifted her bangs from her forehead. The clearing in the center of the Oak Grove
seemed beautifully serene at the moment, steeped in gilded light. The sight never failed to calm
her, and gods knew she needed to stay calm this evening. Dara’s breath caught in her throat at
the thought of dancing with Tinne, the court mage. Hopefully more than dancing, if she could
escape her father’s scrutiny. She clenched her jaw in agitation. She didn’t look forward to being
paraded before the herd of potential mates hand-picked by the Oak King. Not one of them could
hold a candle to the hard leanness of body and mysterious dark eyes of the court mage.
Sometimes it was very hard being the daughter of the King of the Oak, very hard indeed.
She watched the shadows of the little hobs who lived in the lesser trees dance across the
short grass as they scampered about preparing for the Mabon feast. Trestle tables appeared,
covered with white linen cloths and laden with feast food. Fairy lights flickered and came to life
in the branches of the trees, while orbs of light floated over the open lawn where the dancing
would be later in the night.
Mabon was Dara’s very favorite feast. The autumn colors were so well matched to her own
coloring, she couldn’t help looking anything but breathtaking. The red and gold streaks heralding
autumn’s approach glimmered in her dark green hair. Not that looking amazing will do me any
good, I won’t get within ten feet of Tinne if Father has anything to say about it, she reflected. Her
father adamantly ordered she couldn’t be seen with anyone he hadn’t approved of first. Dara
snorted in disgust. She could certainly manage to choose her own dancing partners, and if
dancing led to other things, well Dairmuid didn’t need to know everything. She knew the
behaviour childish, but she always used her father’s given name when he annoyed her.
The frown on her face softened as she remembered the first time she laid eyes on her
father’s new mage. Old Willowbark had died in the spring, and the new mage arrived at
Lughnassa. Dara’s heart jumped at the memory of Tinne when he first entered the Oak King’s
court. The sunlight streamed through the open door behind him and set his hair and clothes
“And set my heart ablaze as well,” Dara murmured.
Dara wrenched her thoughts back to her present dilemma. Somehow, she must find a way to
give the herd of prospective husbands the slip. She drummed her long fingers on her knee as she
considered her options. Dairmuid was far too formidable for Dara to risk out right defying him,
and besides, she really did want to please him. Except his choices were so boring; none of them
made her blood race like Tinne did just by walking into the room. Her face flushed with
excitement, and a brilliant smile appeared on Dara’s lips as the perfect solution to her problem
crossed the green lawn below her, disappearing in the shadow of the tree.
Dara slid down the tree and through the door hidden in the oak’s trunk. Racing down the
stairs as fast as she could, Dara slid to a halt outside her chambers. No need to alert anyone to her
excitement if her handmaiden, Ruis had company when she entered. Dara never knew when
Dairmuid would choose to visit her, and tonight he would be certain to seek her out to nudge her
in the direction of his choice for son-in-law.
“Ruis, leave whatever it is you’re doing I need you over here,” Dara motioned imperiously
with her hand as she entered the room.
“Of course, Mistress,” Ruis laid aside the dress she was folding and hurried across the room.
Dara glanced around quickly and let out a sigh of relief.
“Splendid, no one else is here. I have a plan to escape the boredom of the prospective
husband herd my father has assembled, but I need your help to pull it off.”
“Yes, the Oak King has been here twice already asking for you.” Ruis frowned at Dara, “He
wasn’t very happy I did not know your whereabouts, I just returned from looking for you.”
“No matter,” Dara dismissed her maid’s concerns. “I have arranged to spend the entire
evening with Tinne.” Dara knew her father wouldn’t take his anger out on Ruis; it was Dara’s
responsibility to account for her whereabouts in case Dairmuid needed her. Especially on Feast
“The Oak King will never allow you. Tinne is only a newly made mage; this is his first
assignment in the King’s court,” Ruis exclaimed.
“Which is where you come in.” Dara grinned wickedly at Ruis. “You are going to
masquerade as me tonight.”
“Oh my word, I can’t do any such thing.” Ruis’ face went white and then red.
“Oh, Ruis come on, you know you can. We look enough alike you can pull it off,” Dara
wheedled. “You can wear my emerald green velvet gown with the pearls, the one you moon over
all the time, and you can have your pick of my jewels. Father will expect me to bring out my
very best tonight.”
“We do look alike,” Ruis agreed. “I suppose as long as I keep away from the King and
surround myself with the husband herd it might work.”
“It will work.” Dara beamed. “I want to spend the whole night dancing and romancing with
Tinne. This might be the last chance I have to be alone with him.”
“What will you wear? The emerald gown was meant for you tonight.” Ruis turned her mind
to practical details.
“I think I will wear my russet brocade. It shouldn’t stand out in the crowd and with a scarf to
cover my hair,” Dara mused.
“The russet is lovely on you,” Ruis agreed. “Do you really think the Oak King won’t notice
I’m not you?”
“He’ll be so pleased I’m actually talking to his husband herd and not hiding somewhere
sulking, I think he will keep his distance,” Dara said shrewdly. “No matter, I am going to spend
the night with Tinne!”
Dara threw her head back and laughed with joy; then she grabbed Ruis around the waist and
danced her wildly around room. They collapsed on Dara’s bed, giggling and breathless.
“It’s my turn to do your hair and makeup.” Dara took Ruis by the hand and sat her in front
of the large mirrored dresser.
“What happens if the Oak King discovers me?” Ruis frowned at her reflection in the mirror.
“You can wear a veil and just make sure you stay away from him. He’ll be busy entertaining
the families of the husband herd.” Dara refused to let Ruis have second thoughts. The temper of
the Oak King was legendary; the sight of his thunderous countenance could set the very oaks
themselves to trembling. Dara knew he would be on his best behaviour tonight. Tomorrow…well
tomorrow could take care of itself when it came.
The chiming of the dinner summons rang through the dwelling of the Oak King just as Dara
put the finishing touches on Ruis’ disguise. After a quick glance into the passageway to make
sure it was empty, Dara shooed Ruis into the candlelit hall.
“You know the way well enough, just sit where I usually sit and try not to talk too much,”
Dara whispered from the shadows of the doorway.
Dara waited until the swish of Ruis’ skirts faded into the shadows and then slipped into the
hall herself. She fussed with the orange and gold scarf covering her hair and straightened the
skirts of her russet gown so they fell in a flattering way over the curve of her hips. With her head
down and keeping to the shadows, Dara hurried as fast as she dared to the servant’s stair leading
to the far end of the cleared green in the trees. She emerged into the cool night and checked on
Ruis with a quick sideways glance to the head table. With a surge of satisfaction, she saw all was
going according to plan, and Ruis appeared to be having a conversation with one of the young
men from the Plains People. The young man’s golden head bent attentively towards Ruis.
Now where is he? Dara scanned the crowd searching for Tinne. She hoped the hob had
delivered her message on time. Tinne should be waiting for her by the last buffet table. Dara
stood on tiptoe searching for his tall figure and striking red gold hair.
“You’d think someone his size would be easy to find,” Dara muttered in frustration.
“They say talking to yourself is the first sign of insanity.” Tinne’s breath tickled Dara’s ear.
She whirled quickly and threw herself into his arms. Tinne lowered his head and caught her
up in a long kiss, his tongue licking at her lips. Dara pressed herself against his length and took
his lower lip in her teeth. He responded by crushing her closer, and his left hand slipped up under
her gold shawl to cup her breast.
“I have missed you so much,” Dara breathed fervently, her voice a throaty purr as Tinne’s
fingers caressed her through her bodice.
“And I you, daughter of the Oak King,” Tinne whispered huskily as he pressed his chin on
the top of Dara’s head.
“Come on.” Dara broke their embrace and dragged Tinne out into the melee of dancers.
Music filled the clearing, the leaves of the oaks and lesser trees trembled in time with it. Tinne
led Dara through a pattern of intricate steps, and she smiled in joy as they finished the pattern
without a misstep.
The night wore on, and Dara and Tinne danced every dance, careful to keep their distance
from Ruis and the Oak King. The moon was ready to set when Dara and Tinne collapsed onto a
bench in the shadows at the edge of the clearing. Dara leaned her head on his shoulder and
sighed with happiness. This, she decided, was worth the risk of defying her father. Dara knew
she had to seize the opportunity while she could; there would be little chance to follow her heart
once the Oak King had her strengthen his kingship by offering her body to the man who
represented the most advantageous alliance.
“Come away with me.” Tinne, as always, could read her thoughts and her moods.
“How could we? Where could we go that my father wouldn’t find us?” Dara spoke without
raising her head from Tinne’s shoulder.
“Somewhere far removed from here. I can hide our trail for a while. I am a mage, you
know.” Tinne touched the tip of Dara’s nose with his finger.
“Why couldn’t you be a mage with land and political clout?” Dara teased him.
“Ah, but then, I wouldn’t be who I am, and you would dislike me as much as you dislike the
candidates your father parades before you like so many stallions for you to choose from.” Tinne
returned lightly.
“I don’t really get much of a choice, you know. Do you honestly think we could get away
with it?” Dara mulled the idea over and found she liked it very much.
“We can leave this moment if you wish. I have horses at the ready and provisions as well.”
Tinne kissed Dara lightly behind the ear.
“Are you that sure of me?” Dara demanded, ignoring the fire in her belly his lips awakened.
“Never.” He laughed. “But I hoped you would like the idea, and as always, I am ready to
please you.”
“And pleasure me as well?” Dara purred.
“Always.” Tinne promised her while his tongue drew a wet line down her exposed breast,
where it peeked over her low cut bodice.
“Do you have a plan that extends beyond tonight and you and me in a cozy thicket
somewhere? I am the Oak King’s daughter, and he will search for me, if only because I am a
valuable commodity on the marriage market,” Dara said.
“I have a ship waiting at Oak Landing. A friend owes me a favor, and he will take us beyond
these shores and your father’s influence.” Tinne spoke quickly.
“Is there a private cabin on this ship of yours?” Dara asked boldly.
In answer, Tinne drew Dara further into the shadows and kissed her deeply, his tongue
plundering her mouth. Dara could feel his throbbing man root hard as steel against her thigh. His
fingers delved into her blouse, and his thumb circled her sensitive nipple. Dara’s breath left her
in a rush as the delicious feeling gathered in her breast and flowed into her molten belly. She
pressed her hand over Tinne’s hard shaft and marvelled at the strength as he leaped at her touch.
“Not here, Dara. There are those who will see and expose us. Come with me now.” Tinne
tore his lips from her skin and lifted her to her feet. “Come, “ he pleaded, his eyes dark in the
“Anywhere,” Dara managed to say through her suddenly dry mouth. She stood and pressed
her hands on the throbbing in her belly.
“Soon, Oak King’s daughter, soon.” Tinne promised her.
Before Dara had time to think or change her mind, she found herself astride her fastest horse
racing through the forest with Tinne hot on her heels. Her father wouldn’t discover her missing
until late tomorrow morning or early afternoon if she was lucky; they must be on the ship and
away by then. Despite the urgency of their flight, Dara smiled as the heat in her belly rekindled,
and her breasts tingled at the memory of Tinne’s touch. Yes, the sooner we reach the ship the
* * * *
Behind her Tinne grinned and pushed the horses faster. It turned out better than he hoped,
superior to merely kidnapping the Oak King’s daughter. What a stroke of genius on his part;
making her an accomplice in her own disappearance. If it included pleasuring her young body,
well he deserved a bonus, didn’t he? His master would be very pleased with him when he
delivered the Oak King’s daughter. Regrettably, Tinne had grown very fond of Dara for her own
sake, not just a prize to be ransomed; he pushed the niggling feelings away.
The dark ribbon of road cut across the rolling hills shining palely in the fading moonlight.
Tinne noted Dara smothered a yawn and struggled to stay upright in the saddle of the racing
horse beneath her.
“Shouldn’t we be at Oak Landing by now?” Dara’s words came out slightly slurred. He
stiffened as she frowned in confusion, relaxing at her next words. “Just get us there soon, I am
longing for a soft bed with you in it.”
Tinne allowed his stallion to come abreast of Dara’s gelding as they crested the top of the
last row of hills. The lamps of Oak Landing shimmered in the hollow below them, and the last
light of the moon silvered the waters of the high tide. The Uilleand bobbed gently at anchor on
the rolling swells, waiting just as Tinne ordered. He reached over and took Dara’s reins, drawing
her horse to a halt beside his. Tinne leaned toward Dara and ran his cold hand gently down her
cheek and into the hollow of her throat. Dara’s breath hitched, and she swallowed thickly.
“Are you sure you wish to do this?” Tinne’s voice hung in the darkness between them. It
was better to find out here, away from anyone who might feel obligated to help her, if Dara
should decide to make a scene about getting on the ship.
“Yes, I want to go away with you, where my father can’t interfere in my life.” Dara smiled
against the hand that now cupped her cheek. “I want to make love to you,” Dara rubbed her face
into his hand, purring like a kitten.
“Very well, then Dara, the Oak King’s daughter. Let us go.” Tinne released the gelding’s
reins, but stayed close by Dara’s side as they rode into town and made their way to the docks.
A cloaked man with his hood pulled low over his face emerged from the shadows and took
charge of the horses as soon as Dara and Tinne dismounted. Dara glanced at the man as she
handed him her reins but became distracted by Tinne kissing her ear, his hot moist breath
sending quivers through her body.
Their footsteps echoed hollowly on the planks of the gangway as they walked side by side
onto the ship. Tinne kept his arm possessively about Dara’s shoulders. He was so close to his
goal there could be no chance of her changing her mind at the last minute.
Dara snuggled into the curve of Tinne’s arm as he hurried her up the gangway, his thoughts
on the private cabin awaiting them onboard ship and the activities he planned to pursue once they
reached the cabin.
Tinne pulled Dara into the shadows and kissed her in the windy darkness as he listened for
the sounds signaling the embarkation of the ship. He sighed deeply as the ship heeled sharply
into the wind and swung free of her moorings. At last! Tinne nuzzled Dara’s neck behind her ear
and slid his hand down her back to rest on her rounded buttock. He caressed her willing flesh
while Dara made small mewling sounds in the back of her throat. The deck of the ship swelled
beneath their feet as Tinne guided Dara toward the cabin he had procured in the bow of the ship,
one with no portholes and a stout door with a lock.
* * * *
Dara waited impatiently while Tinne fiddled with the key in the lock, she stood behind him
and pulled his hips back against her burning desire. She allowed one hand to slip down to where
Tinne strained against the soft fabric of his breeches. Dara giggled softly as he reacted to her
touch and stroked him boldly under his cloak.
“You’re not making this any easier,” Tinne said through clenched teeth. The lock finally
snicked open and Tinne thrust Dara into the dark cabin. Tinne struck a match and lit the lantern
in the wall holder. Dara dropped her cloak on the floor in a puddle at her feet and reached for
“I have a few things to take care of, Dara. Wait here, and don’t leave the cabin.” Tinne
seared her lips with a kiss that stole Dara’s breath and weakened her knees. With a final caress of
her breast, Tinne left Dara standing in the middle of the room and closed the door behind him.
The key turned in the lock, but Dara was too bemused to register the fact he had locked her in.
Dara shook her head and ran her hands down over her hips, then back up and over her
breasts. I will burst into flames if he doesn’t love me soon! Dara purred in her throat as she
continued to caress herself. She took an involuntary step backward as the floor rolled under her
feet and fell back onto the bed. The cabin was small and not very well appointed Dara noted
absently, its major advantage being that it did have a bed. Dara tossed her head on the pillow as
her thumb circled her aching nipple.
The sound of footsteps in the hall and then the scrape of a key in the lock brought her head
up with a start. Her breath stuck in her throat as Tinne swung the heavy cabin door shut and
locked it. He dropped the key into his pocket, leaned back against the door and regarded Dara
with his heavy lidded eyes. Dara reached out for him. She felt more than a little drunk.
The mead must have been stronger than I thought, I shouldn’t be this soused on what I
drank. Dara lay back on the covers and watched the room do a lazy spin around her. Why is the
man just standing there? I want him inside me, pleasuring me, right now. I suppose I should be
worried about getting with child, Dairmuid would have a royal fit. Ah, but now, if the child had
Tinne’s eyes and my hair, what a pretty oak child it would be. Or, will the baby be considered an
oak child if it is conceived outside the Vows of the Sacred Oak? The Oak King will have to
marry me to Tinne if I’m gravid, none other would take me. Why didn’t you think of that before,
silly girl?
Dara smiled secretly before she allowed the fire in her loins to overtake her conscious
thought. She burned for his touch; her breasts aching for his lips to suckle them, her secret
womanly places were alive with delightful new sensations.
* * * *
Tinne watched the flood of emotions cross Dara’s face. This proceeded far better than he
planned, The Oak King’s daughter offering herself to him like a wanton wench. Chuckling,
Tinne dropped his cloak by the door and pulled his tunic over his head as he approached the bed
where Dara pawed ineffectually at the laces of her dress.
Tinne took her hands and raised them over her head. “Allow me, Oak King’s daughter.” His
voice sounded muffled as he buried his mouth in her neck.
She tried to free her hands, but he held her wrists firmly in his one hand and allowed his free
hand to roam over Dara’s exposed flesh.
“Please, Tinne,” Dara pleaded, “pleasure me now before I burst.”
“In due time, and not until I am ready to release you shall you feel fulfilment.” Tinne’s voice
changed, became deeper and more commanding, until Dara barely recognized it.
* * * *
Dara squirmed under him as his lips and teeth awoke new fires in her breasts and belly.
She forced herself to ignore the conflagration raging in her body and opened her eyes. To
her surprise, she saw holly branches with red berries amid the shiny dark leaves circling Tinne’s
brow. Somewhere in the recesses of her fuzzy brain, Dara knew something seemed very wrong.
This man poised above her didn’t sound like Tinne and flames flickered in the pupils of his dark
eyes. The man treated her with far more force than Tinne ever did; his touch cool as ice on her
burning flesh, where Tinne’s caresses were always warm. She pushed the annoying thoughts
away from her, the burning thirst between her legs needed slacking before she could puzzle out
what it might mean. Holly leaves be damned. The old man’s war between her father and the
Holly King didn’t concern her, and there were more pressing matters at hand.
* * * *
Tinne teased the soft folds of her labia with his fingers, the slick moisture of her desires
coated them as he drew the flowing wetness of her summer sweet nectar up toward her clitoris,
stopping just short of her sensitive nub. He smiled as Dara’s nubile young body thrashed under
him. Oh, yes the Oak King’s daughter offered herself to him, and he intended to take her. But not
until he was ready, and she was begging.
Tinne freed the steel shaft of his man root and rubbed it against Dara’s streaming vagina. He
probed her tight opening with the tip of his shaft and closed his teeth on the straining dusky bud
of her breast at the same time. Dara bucked her hips violently against him, arching her back and
offered her heaving breasts up to his seeking lips and teeth. Dara seemed incapable of speech,
making only little mewling noises of desire, as Tinne continued to take her past the point where
he was sure she would just burst into flames under him.
“Open your eyes and look at me.” Tinne commanded as he positioned himself to take her
willing flesh. He threw his head back and allowed his master to enter his body. Tinne rejoiced he
would still feel the heat and passion of Dara’s surrender, even though the Holly King rode her.
For a brief moment, Tinne wished it could have been different and Dara could truly be his. He
knew such thoughts to be folly and quickly shut off the thought, driving it from his mind with the
throbbing passion doubled by the presence of the Holly King.
* * * *
Dara obeyed him and opened her eyes. Above her, ready to sheath his sword in her flesh,
she saw not Tinne, the Oak King’s mage, but the Holly King. Vines of holly streamed from his
shoulders, and the bright red juice of his fruit stained her skin. The white snow of holly blossom
burst from the shiny foliage when the quivering trunk of the Holly King poised itself at the
entrance to her honey lipped core that cried for fulfilment. All coherent thought fled from her
mind as with a triumphant roar, the Holly King took possession of the Oak King’s daughter.
“I am the Holly King!” he roared, and the north wind answered him.
Dara gasped with pleasure as Tinne thrust himself deep inside her while his lips and teeth
paid homage to her full breasts. Nothing in the world existed except the wild twisting pleasure
gripping her loins and the feel of Tinne’s teeth on her nipples as they drove her to even greater
plateaus of ecstasy. Dara’s pulse thundered in her ears, and her breath panted from her lips,
swollen with his kisses. Her pleasure was so intense she thought she couldn’t bear it another
second. Her body quivered on the edge of her release. With a quick practiced move, Tinne
reached under her with his free hand and stroked the crevice of her nether regions and then just
as smoothly, tweaked the sensitive, straining head of Dara’s desire. Dara exploded with wild
cries. She felt Tinne thrust harder against her bucking hips with his mouth locked on her sweat
slick breast. His teeth nipped the hard bud of her nipple as he sucked the whole of the aureole
into his mouth. The wind howled against the side of the ship as the Oak King’s daughter and the
Holly King sought and found their release.
Dara stirred and Tinne rolled over to lie beside her, his hand limp on her soft flesh. She
watched him from under her lashes; Tinne kneaded the slippery slit between Dara’s legs. His
fingers danced over and around her still aroused heat. Dara purred deep in her throat and cried
out as her back arched with the new pleasure boiling in her belly.
“Tinne, I can’t; not again.” Dara gasped as his skilful fingers drove her into the throes of
another powerful release.
“Oh, but you can, my lovely Dara.” Tinne held her against him while her body shuddered
with the aftermath of pleasure.
Dara smiled and rolled onto her side. Tinne curled himself against her back, one hand lazily
played with her nipple.
I wonder if he’ll still have holly leaves in his hair in the morning. The thought crossed
Dara’s mind as she slipped into sleep, lulled by the rhythm of the sea and Tinne’s hand on her
About Emily Pikkasso
Emily Pikkasso is proud Albertan, and horsewoman. She lives on a farm near Balzac,
Alberta with two horses, two ponies, various dogs, cats and whatever else happens to wander
into the yard. Emily had her first poems and short stories published while still in grade school.
She enjoys writing poetry and stories, both long and short. Emily loves Celtic myths and legends
and is happy to be able to weave some of those elements into her work. Like the first music, the
stories go on forever.

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