“My lady, the enemy is upon us. The walls have fallen,” a steward says. Behind him, the screams of knights and civilians alike echo off the stone walls.

These are the words that end your life as you know it. Only sixteen years of age, your parents are both away- your mother to the grave, your father to the battlefield. You were given the task of defending the keep at home, and you failed. Now, you must face the consequences.

Swallowing, you walk through the halls and out into the courtyard: your bodyguards follow. No one attacks you. You’re dressed too finely, obviously a noble. A good prize for ransom. No one will harm a hair on your head- although you almost wish they would, because what comes next is sure to be painful.

“I surrender!” You call out, directing your words at the man leading the charge. His armor barely gleams in the moonlight, dulled by dried blood and scratches from countless swords.

At your words, he spurs his horse on and rides closer, then dismounts. “And who would you be?”

His voice is gravelly and deep, his shoulders broad. His cape is red as the blood he’s just spilled on the stones of the courtyard.

“The lady of the keep,” you say, showing him your father’s signet ring. “I will go with you as a prisoner if you promise not to harm any of my people.”

You know that this is an irresistible trade. His people have a strange culture, based entirely on honor, and one of their rules is that they shouldn’t kill any more people than necessary. You’re giving him a prize for almost nothing.

Still, he takes a long time before he finally consents to your trade. Taking your signet ring after a few minutes, he turns around on his horse, crying, “Take her prisoner!”

Then, turning to the remnants of your guard, he says, “Surrender or die. Your choice.”

A clinking of swords can be heard as they toss their weapons on the ground. You blink back tears: this is what you wanted. Better not to waste life. Then, swallowing back your pain, you take the knights hand and swing up onto the back of his horse. It’s a long way to the enemy’s castle.

~*~

He doesn’t speak as you ride, just spurs his horse on faster as you streak past forests on dirt roads. His company is far behind, but you know you don’t have the physical strength to escape. As a daughter of a noble, you weren’t expected to fight- just do needlework and be a pretty parcel for some man to marry. Still, you wish you had rebelled or something, because this is hardly the sort of situation you were prepared for.

Just as you’re about to try anyway, you come upon a camp in the forest. Tents and outhouses symbolize that this is where the enemy has been staying while the keep was under siege. You can understand why: it’s in the middle of the forest, deep in the trees where it’s hard to track people, and there are some particularly delightful hot springs in this area.

You dismount onto the snow with a soft crunch, skirts falling around you, and shiver. You hadn’t brought a cloak, which seems rather stupid in hindsight. As if he’s read your mind, the knight dismounts and removes his own cloak, draping it over your shoulders. You pull it around you.

Still, while it may look like you’re just thankful to be shown some kindness, your brain is working overtime. There must be some way you can escape. You’re sure that your parents won’t pay for your ransom- you have brothers, and anyway they’ve spent all their money on the war. And your side doesn’t have any prisoners that they would trade for you. No, you’re on your own.

Pulling the cloak tighter around your shoulders, you watch the knight order that a bath be prepared at the hot springs- and suddenly, you get an idea.

The culture that has captured you has odd traditions and ideas of honor. While the common people may not follow these ideas, the king and queen- along with their knights- certainly do.

One of those ideas of honor is that a man, after impregnating a woman, must marry her- and that a woman, once married, has the right to divorce and freedom.

If you can get married, you can get divorced and lead a free life- but you’ll need to get pregnant first. Thankfully, you have what is often considered an attractive body: you’re petite, with delicate hips and shoulders, and your skin is almost as white as the snow. You have dark blue eyes that many a minstrel has written a song about, and your hair is curling, long, and dark- not the preferred blonde, but good enough.

Yes, you have your plan. You’re going to seduce the knight- because if divorce doesn’t work out, he’s probably rich, and you have a certain lifestyle to maintain- get pregnant by him, marry him, and escape.

Now is the time to execute your plan. Right after the knight leaves, you turn to a servant, requesting that you have time to bathe as well. They agree, reluctant to rebel against a noble, even one that’s been captured.

Once you get to the hot springs, you slip away from your supervisors. You take off your clothes, leaving on only the knight’s cloak and a satin undershirt- one so see-through that your pert nipples can be seen through the fabric.

Then, quiet as you can be, you creep over to where the knight is bathing. He’s reclined in the steaming hot water, eyes closed- although you can see that he’s holding a knife loosely in his left hand. You hope very much that he’s interested in women.

You’ve never seen him without a helmet on, and to your surprise he’s actually handsome. He has dark hair, cut short on the top and with a beard covering most of his lower face. His features are sharply cut and severe, but the overall effect is very attractive.

There’s a scar on his neck before his body disappears into the water and grows obscure. You’re sure, however, that he’s very muscled: he fights for a living, you don’t do that without impressive strength. You swallow. If he doesn’t like you, there will be no second chance.

You jar yourself into action just as one of his eyes cracks open. It’s a brilliant green. “What are you doing here?” He asks, pushing himself up by one elbow. Some of his chest comes into view- a large scar flicks across it, ropy from age.

You swallow, not sure what to say, and step forward into the light of the moon. With one hand, you let the cape slip off, revealing a shapely body underneath. “I thought you might be tired from the fight today,” you say, trying not to shiver. “And you really deserve a gift for being so kind to my people.”

Then, trembling despite your best efforts, you take a step into the pool. It’s hot, almost scalding compared to the cold air, and you can’t help but sigh thankfully.

Still, you have to do one more thing before you go in- you don’t want your shift to be wet, so with one slow movement you pull it up and over your head. The knight makes a strangled sound- you interpret it as approval, mostly because you have no other scale of measurement.

Then, fully exposed to the world, you wade in, removing the ribbon from your hair so that it falls all about your fast and down your breasts in soft waves.

As you come closer to him, he sits up further, watching you as you approach. His eyes are dark with lust, but you see a flicker of something else there- caution. You grow closer and closer, and he sits up further, almost like he’s trying to avoid you- but he can’t win against his basest instincts.

You lean forward and caress his cheek with a soft hand, leaning in to kiss him on the lips. He kisses back at once, changing it from a soft, innocent kiss to something hard and driving. He bites at your lips, and you feel a fire begin to grow between your legs.

He reaches out and picks you up, setting you down so that you’re straddling his lap. Nothing is separating you- you sit skin to skin. His hands are rough against your sides, and as you slide forward to kiss him more you feel his member throbbing against your stomach. It’s larger than you anticipated, reaching above your bellybutton.

No words need to be said: his right hand moves from your side down to in between your legs, teasing you open with a finger. You can’t stifle a moan: you’ve heard older women discuss what sex was like, but you never realized it would feel so amazing.

As your kisses get deeper and deeper, your heart beats faster. He adds another finger, then another, until he’s got three probing into the depths between your legs. The water sloshes around the two of you as he suddenly stands up, turning you around so that you’re sitting on the ledge underwater instead of him.

He pulls his fingers out of you, and you almost scream in frustration- but then you feel something else prodding at your entrance. He’s taken his member in hand and is entering you gently, pushing in until you feel so stretched it’s almost unbelievable. Once the head of his cock pushes in you, the rest follows, going so deep that you almost feel skewered.

He pulls back from the kiss to bite at your ear, using one hand to fondle your breast. His callouses feel strange against the soft skin there. “Are you ready?” he whispers, his voice deep and gravelly with lust. You nod, looking him in the eyes- there’s a fire there that threatens to consume you.

At your nod, he pulls out to thrust into you, holding you steady with a hand at the small of your back. You go into a state of bliss, doing your best to stay quiet while he establishes a steady rhythm, eventually reaching down and rubbing your clit until you climax around him, clenching and unclenching around his cock.

As his member is squeezed, you feel a sudden warmth inside you, then he pulls out. It feels wrong to be separated, somehow, and you lean your cheek against his chest. He strokes your hair before pulling back and ducking under the water, washing out his hair and finally getting out of the spring. You watch, submerged up to your breasts, as he dries himself with a towel and puts his clothes back on. It seems strange to see him covered after what just happened.

He turns to you and tosses you the towel, turning away to leave as you emerge from the water. As he steps away, however, you feel a strange need to make him stay, talk to you, anything. With a cough, you step forward, ignoring the shivers that race through your body. “I don’t know your name!”

Without turning around, he speaks. “It’s Jason.”

Then, with none of the warmth that you just encountered, he steps back into the darkness. You’re left to put on your clothes alone- but as you put on the cape, you notice that it smells like him, and hug it close.

It takes weeks to get to the castle, but you start seeing pregnancy symptoms right away. It’s exciting, the first time you have morning nausea, but after three weeks of it you’re getting annoyed. Pregnancy was supposed to be magical, but it’s turning out to be a pain.

Still, it’s going to accomplish what it was supposed to- you’re sure of it. You just have to find out a way to prove that you’re pregnant, and approach the knight- Jason- about it.

Your problems are solved when you get to the royal castle of the enemy. Massive gates rise above you, intimidating to all attackers, but you’re let in quickly after Jason shows his sword and mantle of office to the guards on duty.

He must be even more important than you had previously thought, because as you move into the castle people are bowing to him, offering him food, announcing his entrance- but to your annoyance, they use no titles except “Your Grace”, and that could mean almost anything.

As you walk through the castle, though, you notice that even other knights seem to view him as above them. They move out of his way as he approaches, and finally someone opens the doors to a massive room- the throne room.

You step into a golden light, filtered through colored glass. The floor is carpeted, a luxurious investment, and all along the sides of the room are benches for attendants of the court. At the head of the room sits a boy, younger than you, wearing a large crown. He’s covered in a beautiful white fur, and his throne gleams in the light.

“What have you brought me, Uncle?” He calls.

Jason steps forward. “Lady Analia of the Northern Forests, Your Grace. She surrendered her keep to us and is now a prisoner of the kingdom.”

The king nods imperiously, giving more orders, but you can’t listen. Jason, the king’s uncle? You had thought that you might have higher birth than him, making it a gain for him to marry you, but suddenly that all falls out of place. You’re now entirely reliant on his honor- otherwise you’ll be a single, pregnant prisoner. You look down at your belly, still flat- but not for long.

“Is that all?” The king asks, looking down at the two of you. You feel a commoner suddenly, left out in the cold with only a simple shift and dress- out of fashion. Swallowing, you know it’s time to gamble.

Jason has been cold to you, hasn’t spoken to you, and now you know why. He didn’t want to be associated with someone of relatively low blood- he’s destined to marry some princess, most likely. In fact, if he finds out you’re pregnant in private, he may arrange your death instead of dealing with you by marrying you, or send you away to exile. You have to break the news publicly, in court, so that he can’t escape you.

You clear your throat. “Not entirely, Your Grace.”

The young king looks down at you, seeming surprised. “Well, what is it?” He sounds disbelieving: it’s probably unusual for a prisoner to speak in court. You certainly wish you didn’t have to: this is going to make you sound like some sort of loose woman that opens her legs for any knight, not a Lady.

“Your Grace, I am with child, almost a month along. Sir Jason is the father.”

The words strike a death blow to the small conversations all around the room. Suddenly all the attention in the room is focused on you, and you unconsciously cup your stomach. The silence feels like it lasts years, although the king responds quickly.

“Uncle, is this true?”

Jason shifts from one foot to the other, obviously remembering the night at the springs. You stand still, feeling a chill go from head to toe. If he lies, you’re dead meat, sentenced to a life alone, ostracized from upper society.

But when he speaks, his voice is strong and sure. “Yes, Your Grace. If she is pregnant, I fathered the child.”

The king’s fingers drum along the end of his armrest. “Very well, then. I’ll arrange for a priest to marry you tonight. She will join you in your quarters.”

You could faint with relief. The King dismisses you, and you and Jason both leave the throne room. As you walk out, he links elbows with you- but the instant the two of you are out of the King’s sight, he drops your arm and walks a few steps ahead, obviously separating himself from you.

You follow him through countless corridors, worrying your lip, as he walks to his quarters. It’s obvious that he’s angry, and for good reason- you’ve pretty much trapped him into this. Still, you can’t find it in yourself to truly feel sorry about it: it was either this or rotting in the dungeons, and you don’t much like dark places.

At long last, he opens a door and enters his apartments. As befits royalty, they’re huge, with lush carpets and a fireplace in every room. A shelf full of books interests you, as well as a table in the corner that seems to be full of small mechanical objects and inventions.

With quick movements, Jason removes his sword and armor, putting them on a rack to the side of the door. Watching him, you pull your cloak closer- this one was borrowed from a servant, Jason had taken his back- and try not to get too distracted by his strong shoulders and well-built body. It’s too cold for you to take it off: your breath makes clouds in the air, even here in the center of the castle.

As if he’s read your mind, Jason moves to make a fire in the fireplace, kneeling in front of it and striking a match several times before it finally catches. You move closer as the flames start to grow, too shy to move a chair over: the warmth feels good anyway.

As you warm your hands, Jason pulls up two chairs and pours himself a glass of wine: he hands you a glass of water. Both of you sit.

In the flickering light of the fire and the candles all around the room, his face is somehow even more attractive, green eyes tinted grey. You speak first, sitting as formally as you can in the chair.

“Thank you for- for telling the truth in court today, Your Grace.”

Before he responds to you, he takes a long draught of his wine: from the smell, it might be fortified. He stares at the fire as he speaks to you. “Don’t call me Your Grace. My name is Jason.”

“I remember,” you say, voice so small and quiet it’s almost nonexistent.

He takes another draught of wine, then says, “I had no choice, you know. It was the honorable thing to do.”

“Still. Not everyone is… concerned about honor.” You wonder if he’s always this cold, or if he’s just angry with you.
 

“You know as well as I do that this wouldn’t be happening if you hadn’t brought it up in court.” He puts down the cup, hard, on the mantle over the fireplace and stands up. “Sleeping with you was a mistake. I’ll never be able to escape that. I might as well own up to it.”

You want to protest, convince him that the spring was anything but a mistake, but before you can there’s a knock at the door. Jason opens it to reveal a priest, dressed in dark clothes and holding a holy book.

He nods his head to Jason, then enters the room. “I’m ready to perform the ceremony whenever you are, Your Grace,” he says, unfolding a piece of paper. “Your wedding has already been witnessed by the King himself.”

Jason nodded. “We’re ready.”

You aren’t quite of the same opinion- a wedding should be in a church, and people ought to attend- but at this point, you really can’t argue. It’s happening whether you want it to or not. Jason stands up, in front of the fire, and you join him: he holds out a hand for you. Yours fits perfectly in his palm, pale skin against battle scars and callouses.

The priest goes on for a bit with a speech about marriage before finally performing the ceremony, asking each of you if you’re willing before finally having you sign the paper and declaring you married. Once the paper has been signed he sticks it in his pocket, then leaves- closing the door behind him.

Once he leaves, Jason leans in towards you, capturing your face with a calloused hand and bringing it closer to him. You lean forward, craving his warmth even as you know it won’t last.

“I thought I was a mistake,” you say, looking into his eyes as the fire flickers. His gaze reveals nothing to you.

“The damage has already been done.” A hand slips onto your waist, pulling you even closer towards him until your bodies are lined up. “I might as well enjoy this while it lasts.”

He leans forward to kiss you: his lips move with a different sort of hunger than you’ve ever encountered, like he wants to consume you. You moan, moving until your breasts are just barely touching him, and wind your arms around his neck: here, on even ground, he’s more than a foot taller than you.

With a low grumble, Jason picks you up and carries you to the bedroom. Your legs lock around his back: the feeling of his hard member fills you with excitement. He tosses you onto the bed, then leans over you and kisses your neck, your breasts, your navel, laving over spots until they’re flushed and red.

As he suckles at a nipple, you drag your hands down his back. He’s got clearly defined muscles all the way down, with scars marring a considerable amount of his skin. You circle one with a finger, wondering if he’d tell you how he got it; probably not. If tonight is anything to go by, he’s probably going to avoid speaking to you. His skin is tanned and tough against yours, but there’s something exciting about it all the same.

With a rough movement, Jason lifts his head from your breasts and moves up to kiss you once more, teasing open your slit. Unlike the last time you slept together, he spends little time preparing you- instead, he sheathes himself inside you with a single quick motion. You moan into his lips, not caring that the stretch burns. It feels right, to have him there.

He starts thrusting right away, grabbing a breast with one hand and holding your hips with the other. Even without him rubbing your clit, you feel yourself approaching orgasm.

Then, with a sudden shudder, he releases his seed inside you. Pulling out right after, he leaves you in the bed and goes to blow out the candle.

You want to scream, still close to orgasm. In the dark you search through your folds, rub yourself to completion- but it’s not the same as with him. Unfulfilled and irritated, you turn over, facing away from Jason. Beside you, he lies in the dark for a long time. It’s only after at least an hour has passed that you finally hear his breathing even out into the rhythm of sleep.

~*~