For Mitch, one of the fabulously generous high tier backers of Under My Skin who wanted more of ‘that dragon slayer story’. Enjoy! 😉

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It was the moment that Dane had been waiting for: the fearsome beast spread its huge, translucent wings and powered up into the sky, its colossal neck curled upwards in a deafening roar. If the dragon thought that flight would give it the advantage, it had never come up against Dane the Dragonslayer!

Dane had been swinging swords since she was old enough to lift them, and she’d been trained by the best, inducted into the Council of Protectors and knighted at just sixteen years old. Even her own father couldn’t defeat her in a duel. Her own father, head of the palace guard and Hand of the Queen. For seven years he’d tried and failed, and in the end, he simply conceded defeat and told his brave daughter he was proud of her. The Hand of the Queen was proud of her.

On top of all those accolades, the Light was on her side. That was what mattered most. Holy hands guided hers and her sword, and when she held her sword aloft and shouted at the dragon above her, she could feel them.

This simple dragon did not stand a chance against Dane and the Light.

“That’s right, Beast!” Dane was sure her voice was just as loud as its roar. “Meet your maker!”

The ‘beast’ made a figure eight in the air and then began its descent toward Dane, the wind roaring off its fiery red scales as it parted the skies with its body.

Dane’s great warhorse reared as she brandished her sword and then galloped towards the side of the castle. The dragon couldn’t fall upon Dane without beating itself against the two foot-thick rock, so it landed in the courtyard and drew a deep, resonating breath.

Dane held up her shield. She wasn’t afraid of fire, and neither was Epiphany, her valiant steed.

The breath blew her against the wall; hot wind and smoke sweeping across the courtyard as it filled with molten fire from the dragon’s mouth. While the dragon was taking another breath, Dane spurred her horse through the walls of flames, directly into the beast’s path.

Before it could fill its lungs, Dane leapt from Epiphany and kicked the dragon in the base of its throat before she landed, dispersing the gas in its fire glands.

The dragon halted mid-breath, its ribs pulsing. After a moment of total silence, it coughed.

Dane cheered, lifting her sword to deliver the final blow – a cut from left to right across the delicate skin of its inner throat.

When she went to swing her sword, though, it didn’t move.

What?

“Alright, that’s enough!” That was a young woman’s voice, and she sounded angry.

Dane twisted around, her sword still stuck in an axe-grip above her head. Behind her stood a woman with black curls cascading down her dark shoulders and over her luxurious dress. She did not look happy, and her hand was raised and glowing. Dane looked up; her sword was also glowing.

“What do you think you’re doing?” the woman asked her sharply.

Dane raised her eyebrows. “Well, I should have thought that would be obvious,” she called out. “I’m about to rescue The Patroness of Gallifront from this fearsome beast that has captured her!”

The woman rolled her eyes. “And I suppose after that you’ll want to marry me,” she said, and made a gesture with her hand. Dane’s sword went flying across the courtyard and landed against the far wall, clattering across the ground. That was Firebrand steel forged from the deepest of depths, and this woman just tossed it aside with the same regard as if it was two tethered sticks. It was almost heresy. Dane was in a mind to go after it, but there was a small matter of the large dragon towering above her.

The Patroness walked calmly up to Dane, her gown trailing after her through the coals. She didn’t seem at all concerned about ruining it, or that there was—

Dane took the woman’s arm. “—Be careful, my lady, the dragon will—”

She opened her mouth to say something to Dane and then looked twice, peeking through her visor, surprised. She didn’t explain why. Instead, she reached up and put a gentle hand on the dragon’s broad neck and hot scales. “Will what? Sulk me to death?” It arched its head down at her touch, its ears flat against its neck and its tail coiling between its legs like a smacked dog. “There, there, Munchkin,” the woman said, patting it. “The nasty lady won’t hurt you anymore, she’ll have to go and find some other poor, young creature to butcher…”

The nasty lady? Dane stood straighter. “I’ll have you know that I am knighted in the Council of Protectors and on top of that it is disrespectful to refer to a Knight as a lady. Regardless of gender, the correct term is ‘Sir Knight’, so if you—” The Patroness made a talk-talking motion with her hand as she rolled her eyes. The dragon and she shared a private laugh at Dane’s expense.

Dane felt herself flush with anger. How dare she disrespect the holy call of the Protectors? Did she know Dane was here for her benefit? Only heretics and heathens had such gall. Certainly not good, holy women. Perhaps Dane had been mistaken about the sort of women she was charged with rescuing; or… Dane calmed herself. Or perhaps this woman needed and different sort of rescuing than she had expected. Of course, that must be it. That was her mission.

Dane put one gloved hand on the Patroness’s slight shoulder. “Have you turned away from the Light, Patroness?”

The woman gave Dane a very tired look, and when Dane gripped her upper arm with the intention of saying something else, dangerous eyes met hers. Dane had made a grave mistake. Before she realized what was happening, the Patroness’s hand was glowing and Dane joined her sword in flying across the courtyard and clattering off the far wall.

She lay there, dazed, staring at the plumes of smoke billowing from the burning courtyard into the air above it.

Who was this woman and why was she so adamant that she would not be saved?

Whoever she was, she remained standing by the entrance to the castle with her monstrous dragon pet. When Dane looked over the top of her head towards them, the woman practically had smoke rising from herself.

“Don’t think you’re getting out of this so easily, she nearly had you!” the woman said sharply to the dragon, gesturing towards Dane. “I don’t know what you were thinking, landing like that. You know Knights will go straight for your throat if you land, and you won’t even be able to manage a little one like that one!”

Won’t even be able to manage a little one like… “I beg your pardon!” Dane interjected, rolling over to her front on the soot-covered cobblestones. Dane was most certainly not little! She could beat half the order in the strength trials, including her own father!

The woman ignored her. “We’ve been over and over this, Munch,” she was saying as the infernal dragon looked thoroughly appalled with itself.

Dane heaved herself back upright, brushed the soot off her armour, sheathed her sword and walked hesitantly back up to them, bent on another chance at saving this woman. As a peace offering, she left off her helm.

The woman completely ignored her. Since ladies normally stopped what they were doing and curtsied in her presence, Dane found it very odd. In fact, standing there while the woman chastised an enormous, demonic monster that was clearly deferring to her was… all very odd.

“…Next time I swear I will let the Knight slay you!” she finished, waggling her finger. Then, she turned around to face Dane. She was shorter than Dane – not by much, mind you – but much more slender. It was easy to tell how slender she was because the gown she was wearing clung tight to her body. That made Dane uneasy. This whole situation made Dane horribly uneasy. She felt like she’d wandered into a dream where everything was completely topsy-turvy.

“And you,” the Patroness said to Dane, completely unaffected by the fact both Dane and the dragon were above her, and completely disregarding how a lady should speak to a Knight. “You shouldn’t have been swinging that sword around here in the…” Her voice trailed off as she got a full aspect of Dane upright and beside her. “Huh.” She sounded surprised.

Dane swallowed. She wasn’t sure what the protocol was to deal with a lady staring openly at her. “With all due respect, my lady, in my experience it is necessary to slay the dragon in order to–”

“—yes, yes,” the Patroness said, interrupting her and waving a hand dismissively. She did a slow, appraising circle of Dane while Dane stood there, uncomfortable and with the infernal beast she should have slain smirking at her.

“A lady knight,” the woman commented from behind Dane, despite that fact Dane had very clearly explained that ‘knight’ and ‘lady’ were mutually exclusive. “I’ve never read of it. Is it common, then?”

“No, my lady,” Dane said through grit teeth. She wouldn’t be saving anyone if she lectured them on language. “I am the only one in the Order at present.”

“Hmm,” was the final thoughtful assessment she made. The gates that lead out of the castle spontaneously slammed shut and locked.

Dane was not sure what to make of that, but this lady did seem to be cut off from civilisation, didn’t she? She really couldn’t judge her too harshly on not knowing the finer details of it, and she should make a very generous attempt not to.

“So how does this work?” the Patroness asked her, in a very different tone to the one she had used before she’d flung Dane across the yard. “Isn’t it customary for knights to marry the maiden they rescue?”

Dane’s breath caught in her throat for a second. Was she…? She sounded so casual about it! “Customary? No,” Dane managed. “I’d only ever save one person in my whole life if that were the case.”

The Patroness found that charming for some reason, and looked keenly interested in what Dane had to say. “Well,” she said, and then shooed her infernal beast away from the door. “Since you’ve come to rescue me, will you accept my hospitality for a night or two? I don’t get many travellers up here, especially not people like you.”

Dane’s could not have been more confused. She gestured vaguely at Epiphany who was swishing her tail nearby. “Well, if you’d like to know what customarily happens, ordinarily I would lift you up onto my horse and we would gallop away to safety…”

The Patroness considered Epiphany. The horse did not look impressed, and neither did the Patroness who had clearly made her mind up to stay put.  “Well, I’m sure your warhorse is lovely, but I don’t actually need to be rescued. I’m in no danger here, as you can see.” She indicated her castle.

Dane looked up at it; the air above it and all the towers were clearly infested with those fearsome, fire-breathing demons and there was a dozen pairs of slit eyes watching the two people in the courtyard. All that was missing was an ominous thunderstorm.

No. No, it wouldn’t do for a young and beautiful albeit very eccentric lady to remain here amongst them. Dane swept her hand out towards Epiphany. “Please, my lady, allow me to lift you astride my horse. It would be my honour to escort you to safety and teach you the ways of—”

“—I’m quite safe here, as much as I appreciate your concern for my welfare.” the Patroness interrupted her with a smile and stood aside to allow Dane access to the doorway. “And you can teach me here. You can’t really refuse a formal invitation, can you, Sir Knight?” Dane wondered if her choice to use ‘Sir’ was deliberate this time.

Rather than politely advising the lady that a formal invitation was one received in writing by a courier two nights prior to the engagement, Dane was really at a loss at how to reply. If the lady was inviting her to stay, it was appropriate for her to accept. That, and the more time she got to spend with this lady, the more chance she had to figure her out and convince her to vacate this hellish castle. “No, I suppose it wouldn’t be polite of me to refuse you, despite your,” she glanced upward again and the circling dragons, “unusual living situation.”

The Patroness smiled, and bustled Dane in through the door.

The first thing the woman insisted on doing for Dane was treating her to a proper three-course meal of local cuisine, reasoning that Dane had probably been travelling for some time to reach the mountain. That was true, but as the Patroness insisted on going to get changed for dinner and leaving Dane alone in the dining room on strict instructions not to kill anything, it gave Dane far too much of an opportunity to ponder what had just happened.

Dane was seated at the head of a long intricately set table, in a castle full of dragons that she was forbidden to slay, with a very strange and beautiful woman who for some reason wanted to remain here. Try as she might, Dane could not understand the drive to remain so far away from civilization and her own kind. Didn’t ladies always seem to flock together everywhere? This one seemed quite alone; Dane hadn’t seen a single soul here with her. What would drive someone to seek such solitude, and amongst such creatures? Perhaps she hadn’t been kidnapped by these dragons, after all. Perhaps she had been horribly burnt by someone and had fled up here to shun humanity and languish in her misery.

Poor woman, Dane thought, imagining that. It was a good thing Dane had been sent here. She would show the woman how to find solace and peace in the Light, and restore her to civilization and safety, and she would not fail. She couldn’t: this lady’s soul was counting on her.

While she was reflecting on that, a thick candle landed squarely on the table in front of her with a smack and scared the life out of her. She looked at it for a moment, and then looked up; there was a small horse-sized dragon curled around the heavy chandelier above her. When it saw her, it started hissing and spitting and to Dane’s trained ears it sounded like it was swearing profanely at her.

“Dragons,” Dane muttered. Such foul creatures they were. Dane had never used such language toward anyone.

“No, not ‘dragons’,” a voice corrected her from the doorway. “’Teenagers’.” The Patroness was standing at the entrance of the room shaking her head at the commotion coming from the chandelier.

Dane would have paid more attention to that, except that the Patroness had changed into a dress that was even lower cut than the previous one. She had her arms crossed at the dragonspawn, and that made her cleavage simply spill out of her dress in a way that was all at once most unladylike and very ladylike. Dane had never seen that much of another woman, not even the painted ones that beckoned to her from alleyways. It was a shock.

Dane averted her eyes to allow the woman modesty. In the process of not looking at the Patroness, Dane locked eyes with the angry teenage dragon. It glared angry teenage daggers at her.

The Patroness shooed it away, and then stood waiting for something before she sat down. When Dane didn’t guess what it was, she asked, “Well, aren’t you going to compliment me on my evening gown?”

Dane glanced up at it; it was most definitely not something the ladies in the capital would wear. Rather than an evening gown, it looked like a thin nightgown, and it fell over her curves and over her shoulders and lead Dane’s eyes right in between the lady’s big, sumptuous…

No. “You’re beautiful,” Dane said, and then panicked. “I-I mean, it’s beautiful.” She could feel her cheeks burning as she flushed a deep crimson red.

The same red as the woman’s dress. She laughed agreeably. “Thank you, on both counts,” she said, sitting opposite Dane on the long table. “I rather think it fits that I look beautiful, since I have such a handsome and gallant dinner guest.” She smiled sweetly at Dane.

Dane felt as if her face might actually catch fire, and that was no good at all. It would not do for a Knight to dissemble around pretty women, and Dane had been around many a pretty woman before to no effect. This woman, though. It must be because of all that skin Dane could see, and what it made her think of. The Patroness really should have done Dane the courtesy of wearing something appropriate. It would be impolite to just say that, though.

“Are you not cold, Patroness?” Dane said pointedly. “Would you like me to fetch you a shawl to wrap around your shoulders?”

“Actually, I’m feeling rather warm,” the Patroness answered, and Dane wasn’t sure she’d understood. “And once I’ve tasted some of the wine that’s brewed in these mountains, I’ll feel even better.”

Movement caught Dane’s eye, and someone was pouring wine into her goblet. “Thank you—” she began absently, turning to smile at whoever was pouring it. There was nothing but empty space beside her. The wine was pouring itself from the canister, and there was a faint glow underneath it.

Dane looked back at the Patroness, who had a very amused smile on her face. “Don’t worry, I’m sure it appreciates the sentiment, even if it is tableware.”

Dane took a deep, slow breath. She could manage all this. She was a Knight of the Order of Protectors. “Apologies if I seem unfamiliar with magic,” she said as smoothly as she could. “We don’t use it ourselves at the Order. The priests do, a little. To soothe pain and cure ailments.”

“Oh, yes,” the Patroness said, inspecting her goblet. “Holy magic.” She didn’t say anything more to that, but Dane felt as if there might be an implied ridicule of it in there somewhere. The Patroness didn’t allow her to dwell on it. “It certainly has its place, but it won’t pour wine for you.”

“I can pour wine for myself,” Dane pointed out, plucking the canister out of the air and demonstrating.

“Yes, but can you cook a three-course meal fit for an esteemed guest while in a completely different room?” she asked. Dane stared at her and overfilled her goblet, pulling away at the last possible second and nearly demonstrating that she couldn’t pour wine for herself. The Patroness laughed good-naturedly. “I thought not! Anyway, the dinner will be a little while, yet. As tempting as it is for me to just torch the roast lamb in a moment, it tastes much nicer when it’s done the conventional way.”

Dane would have felt much better if many more things about this visit were conventional. It was all a bit much to take in.

The Patroness took a sip of her own wine, her eyes not moving from Dane’s. “No matter, there’s lots of things to discuss. I’m sure I read that it’s customary for knights to marry the maidens they rescue. Yet, you say those books are wrong and it’s not a custom?”

“It’s not a custom,” Dane repeated. “Knights aspire to it, and it’s in all the fairytales. But  it’s not ordinarily what happens.”

“You aspire to marry a woman you’ve known for the length of time she’s sat in front of you on your horse?” the Patroness asked. She actually seemed genuinely interested, Dane thought, if perhaps a little patronising. “Wouldn’t you rather marry someone you’ve come to know and fallen in love with?”

It was almost as if she’d never had this conversation with anyone before. Dane wondered how long this woman had been cloistered up in that castle. “You are married to someone for many, many years. What is that except an excellent opportunity to get to know your beloved?”

The Patroness’ eyebrows went up. “Interesting idea,” she said, and then thought on it. “So Knights don’t marry for love?”

Dane felt as if an inquiry was being staged on her and the Knighthood. “They do,” she corrected her. “But it’s but one reason for a knight to marry.”

The Patroness was clearly finding this all very strange and interesting. “There are other reasons to marry someone?”

Dane just stared at her. “Of course,” she said, and then listed them on her fingers. “For those with estates and titles: lineage. Knights earn a generous pension from the crown, so some knights do the honourable thing and marry widowed ladies or maidens from poor families.” Dane smiled a little indulgently. “Or, that’s the story, anyway. I often think on these occasions that the knight has sullied a woman’s virtue and must marry her as a result, and so they invent this gallant story about rescuing a maiden from poverty so as not to tarnish the maiden’s good name…”

“As a way of hiding an unwanted pregnancy?” The Patroness asked, for clarification. “That seems to be a common practice across many different lands.”

Dane made a noise. “Well, that, and if you take a woman’s virtue, the honourable thing to do is, of course, to marry her. She can’t be married in any sort of holy wedding unless it’s to the person who has partaken of her. And no knight would ever refuse to do the right thing in that circumstance. It is against every fibre of our vows.” Dane paused. “If you don’t mind me saying, I find it so odd that you’ve never heard any of this, my lady. This is all… well, it’s common knowledge. For everyone.”

The Patroness was not bothered by that comment in the slightest. “I was brought up differently,” she said, and then didn’t explain any further. “There is so much I don’t know. Look at you, for example. I had no idea there were female knights, and yet here you are. Every single thing you say feels like a revelation.”

Dane wasn’t sure what she should say to that, either, except it felt like perhaps she was getting through to this lady. Perhaps rescuing her would be a straight-forward, simple task.

The woman watched her for some time as a person might watch a play, or a sermon, or something worthy of attention and note. Eventually she seemed to come to some conclusion. “Books only take me so far…” she murmured finally. Placing her goblet purposefully on the table she stood, eyes fixed on Dane. Her demeanour had changed, and she was standing very deliberately so that Dane would notice her curves.

It worked, even as Dane tried to afford the lady the respect of not looking. She couldn’t simply look away from the Patroness’ voice though. Especially not as it had taken on the tone that it had. “Is marrying the fair maiden you rescue your secret fantasy, Sir Knight?”

Dane opened her mouth, and then closed it, and then set her jaw. This woman was seducing her with confidence that belied her age, and Dane had no idea what to do about it. She was used to maidens batting their eyelashes at her from behind ornate fans – there was a certain mystery about what it may be like to marry a female Knight, and she knew they all gossiped about it – she was not used to scantily-clad beautiful women being forward with her while they were alone in a room. She had no idea how to manage it, either. She could hardly breathe.

The Patroness took Dane’s silence as an opportunity to slowly advance on her, hips swaying in that dress.  “Would you like to marry me, Sir Knight?”

Was she–? Dane’s eyes could not have been wider. She felt like she needed clarification on that point. “My lady, is that a request for information or a marriage proposal?”

There was a smile at the corner of the lady’s lips. “Both. What do you say?”

This was not at all what Dane had expected a marriage proposal would be like. In truth, she’d imagined a quiet wooded outcrop surrounded by spring wildflowers, and kneeling before a sweet, gentle maiden she’d just rescued to ask for her hand. She’d imagined the tears of joy, a happy wedding day and riding off into the sunset on Epiphany with a bridal gown trailing behind them in the breeze.

Of course, she had never actually expected that to happen. But she’d never expected this to happen, either, with… a very fair maiden approaching her, standing over her with her warm, sensuous body within Dane’s reach. The skin on Dane’s hands sung, but she left them in her lap. She didn’t want to leave them there. She wanted to lift them and feel that smooth, warm fabric underneath them and feel the lady within it. It was forbidden, though…

…Unless they were to marry, that is. Dane drew a sharp breath.

She shouldn’t. “I haven’t even rescued you yet,” Dane pointed out, hearing herself sounding a bit breathless. “You refuse to let me.”

The woman lifted her hand and gently touched Dane’s lips, feeling a scar that reached onto her chin. “If you marry me, I will,” she promised. “I’ll come down to your big city with you, and learn more about your Light, and your people and life as the lady of a lady Knight.”

Dane opened her mouth to utter some final, dying protest, when she saw the last of the daylight spilling in through the stained glass windows of the dining room. It was beautiful, and it cast a dozen colours all over the white marble floor and the table. It reminded her of the Cathedrals in the capital, and that’s when Dane realised it.

Perhaps this is my mission, she thought, and it made perfect sense. Perhaps this was how she rescued the Patroness, by marrying her and restoring her to the safety and comfort of her people. The light pouring through the windows seemed like a sign, and—the breath caught in her throat—when she looked back upon the woman in front of her, she couldn’t deny that she felt something. She would not be opposed to sleeping beside this woman, not at all. But, when she thought on it…

“Are you sure you won’t come back with me and think on it?” Dane found herself asking. “You may decide you’d rather not marry me.”

Something passed across the Patroness’ face. “I may decide that?” she asked. “You’re the one who’s constantly exposed to grateful, eligible ladies…” On saying that, she set her jaw determinedly, and then fixed Dane in an intense gaze with those startlingly green eyes.

The chair turned of its own accord underneath Dane, so it was facing the Patroness. Without so much as explanation, the Patroness gracefully sat on Dane’s lap, snaking her bare arms over Dane’s shoulders.

Dane inhaled sharply, panicking. She couldn’t have been more rigid, and she couldn’t have been more rigidly pressed against the backrest of her chair. As much as she wanted to throw the maiden off before they did something they’d both regret… would Dane regret it, really? It would seal the betrothal and ensure this lady returned to safety with her. That was not a great loss if it meant that the lady heaven and earth and all of the shades of Light those big sumptuous breasts of hers were pressed against the top of Dane’s breastplate, distracting her from everything.

While Dane was trying to hurriedly determine what on earth to do, green eyes had trapped hers again. Rightfully, they should stop, regardless of how very important it was that Dane not fail at her mission and save this lady. They didn’t know the first thing about each other. “I don’t even know your name,” she murmured.

The full lips that were tantalisingly close to hers smiled, and when she spoke, the breath tickled Dane’s lips. “People find it hard to pronounce,” she said. “That’s why everyone refers to me as ‘The Patroness’. Well, that and the fact I keep giving gold and resources to royal Libraries the world over.”

“Tell me anyway,” Dane bid her.

She leaned down to Dane’s ear and whispered a word – it fell like gentle waves on sand, and hissed softly like the sound of satin sheets brushing together. The Patroness had not been exaggerating when she said it would be hard to pronounce: it was a magic word, Dane was sure of it. A magical name fit for a magical woman. Dane closed her eyes as the woman spoke it again, feeling each syllable. Yes, she was making the right decision. The Priests and Priestesses of the Light would surely find great and wonderful things for this woman to put her magic to. This must truly be Dane’s path: bringing this woman to safety and turning her back towards the Light.

While she was reflecting on that, those pillowy lips kissed her neck, and— Dane exhaled, her eyes falling shut and her head lolling against her pauldron. The woman’s mouth on her skin, her tongue on her skin… Dane could feel that skin rise in goose bumps. It made her weak, so weak, and she was flopping against the backrest of the chair. What powers this woman had…

“But what do I call you?” Dane wondered aloud, amazed she was still capable of coherent thought. She attempted to pronounce the word the woman had said, and failed.

The lady chuckled, tickling her skin. “What’s wrong with ‘My Wife’?”

That word was such a shock that Dane just leant heavily against the backrest with a beautiful lady in her lap kissing her neck and, heavens, she… was she…? In Dane’s stupor, the lady had begun to unbuckle Dane’s armour. She’d managed Dane’s pauldrons and breastplate before Dane came to her senses.

“Stop!” Dane said, and blocked the lady’s hands at her shirt. “This is…” She’d been wanting to say ‘inappropriate’, but if she really was intending to marry this lady and whisk her away to safety on that promise, then it wasn’t entirely inappropriate. And if she was fated to rescue this lady on that very promise, she couldn’t imagine the Light wouldn’t shine on their actions. It was just… “Here? What if those creatures come in?”

The Patroness’ eyebrow twitched, and then behind them, the bolt snapped shut on the door, and the last of Dane’s armour floated… somewhere.

The cotton of Dane’s undershirt was breathable and very thin; something Dane had forgotten until that very moment when she had a lady gazing upon it. The Patroness actually noticed before Dane did, and a blush rose to her pretty cheeks. With fingertips trailing along Dane’s arms, her shoulders, her collarbones, she explored Dane’s defined musculature, stopping just short of the swell of Dane’s own breasts. “You’re strong…” she observed, sounding a little surprised.

“I’m a knight,” Dane reminded her.

“I’m strong, too,” the lady commented somewhat cryptically, and before Dane realised what was happening, the chair had lifted clean off the floor into the air and dumped them both on the long table.

Either by accident or design Dane ended up on top of the Patroness, and the woman wasted no time pulling Dane with her back amongst the delicate table settings, crushing them with their bodies. Dane didn’t have time to protest, and she didn’t have time to relieve the woman of the weight of her body before the woman pulled their lips together, her bare legs wrapping around Dane’s waist.

The woman’s lips… they tasted of sweet wine and they were warm, and wet, and yielding, and thinking where else on Dane they could be went straight to Dane’s loins. And that felt good, that felt more than good, it felt exhilarating. This wasn’t a quiet proposal in a wooded outcrop, but Dane hadn’t expected that anyway. It was a passionate, amorous consummation of a proposal that would save a woman’s soul. Making love to this woman would save her soul, and—heavens. Just imagining it and all the unspeakable acts she wanted to do to that body under her hands, and do over and over and…

It was only when she sought out the woman’s big, swelling breasts and clutched them desperately through the fabric of her gown that she realised how horribly profane this whole encounter was and pulled away.

“Stop, my lady, stop,” Dane hissed, standing away from the table and breathing heavily. At some point the lady had undone the buttons on the front of her blouse, and when she looked down she could see her breasts. She hurriedly pulled the fabric closed. “This should be different. I should worship you, not desecrate you—”

“—but what if I want you to ‘desecrate’ me?” the Patroness asked, smiling wantonly at her.

Dane was appalled at that. “Then I should refuse!” she told her, trying to button up her shirt, and then stopping when she realised she’d put all the buttons in the wrong holes. She shouldn’t stop now, should she? Before she’d forced this woman to come to safety with her? And, really, looking upon that beautiful woman panting and practically begging her to return…

The Patroness looked momentarily panicked, but it quickly faded and her jaw set again. “Are you going to leave your lady wanting, Sir Knight?” she asked in that same tone she’d started the whole affair with. “Isn’t it your duty to please her in the manner she so chooses?”

Those words spoke to Dane, and while Dane was trying to find a suitable rebuttal, something pushed Dane forwards and between the Patroness’ long legs again. While Dane was trying to pull away, the Patroness took two handfuls of Dane’s undershirt, flipped her against her back on the table, and ripped the shirt open. Buttons popped everywhere and scattered across the table and the floor.

The lady climbed on top of her, shrugging the shoulders off her dress so her own breasts were free and the satin fell around her waist. Dane hardly had time to be shocked by that before the woman was lying flat against her, their skin pressed together as they kissed.

Skin-on-skin, their breasts pressed all together, and with the sounds coming from the back of the lady’s throat: the groans, the breathy sighs… Dane felt overcome by that same profanity again, that hunger, that thirst to experience every part of her, in every way. Before she’d managed to determine if it really was profane she’d already filled her hands with the woman’s skin, feeling the shape of her back, her waist, her sides as they kissed.

The Patroness began to slip down her body, kissing Dane’s breasts so that Dane’s head flopped back against the table, kissing down Dane’s ribs and her stomach and her hips and then her fingers were unbuckling Dane’s belt and unlacing her breeches and—

—There reached a point at which Dane did wonder if the Light would even concern itself with the carnal acts of to-be wedded lovers, no matter how ‘profane’. Surely this was just another step in saving this lady, something Dane had to… stoically endure…. so she could… then…

The Patroness had freed Dane’s hips of her breeches and had let them fall so the fabric was bunched around the top of Dane’s greaves, and knelt in front of Dane’s exposed skin. It was terrifying to be this exposed, terrifying in a way that Dane had not felt in all the many years. And the sudden, unexpected fear reminded her of the first time she had faced a dragon, so many years ago. She pushed that memory deep, deep down inside her.

“What are you…” Dane began, even though it was very clear what the Patroness planned to do. “What do you want me to—”

The Patroness tossed her hair over her bare shoulders, looking up at Dane with a dark smile. “I want to hear what sounds my holy knight makes when I satisfy her,” she said, and then put her lips against Dane’s skin.

Whatever sounds the Patroness was expecting, Dane made them as she curled forward, shocked by how suddenly she was overtaken. The woman’s big, soft lips were on her… the woman’s tongue was on her and… it was paralysing. Truth be told, Dane had always wondered whether there was joy to be had in coupling with her wife; the male Knights only talked about their own parts, never about their wives’, but… Heavens, there was. There was joy to be had, and… the feeling of her to-be wife’s mouth on her, the texture of it and the movement of it… she was breathless, and weak, and this beautiful woman who she was going to rescue and going to marry…

Dane opened her eyes for a moment to look down upon her. On those beautiful black locks and that lovely smooth skin, oh, that mouth moving on her, pushing into her, and pulling at her and… their skin…

The fading sunlight fell through the stained-glassed windows, painting their bodies in beautiful, vibrant colours. The Light, Dane thought and turned her face up towards it as it streamed down on them. That small detail, with the rhythm her wife-to-be was keeping between her legs, it… it was enough. It was enough for Dane to lean back on her elbows, her head flopping back against the table and her lips parted. It was enough for her to let whatever force was building in her loins just build up, and feel the Light’s warmth fall on her skin as her chest rose and fell and rose and heavens, she was going to burst, and then she was crying out, grabbing forceful handfuls of the tablecloth and gentle handfuls of her wife-to-be’s hair, and then laying back and letting the her wife-to-be guide her through it with steady, deliberate movements as she thrashed against the table and eventually fell slack on it.

Lying there, panting and staring up at the high windows, Dane felt like she was the one who’d been delivered a revelation. No one had spoken to her of that feeling she’d just had. Of course, they’d talked of it in hushed tones but never explained what it would be like. It was like a thousand victories all rolled into a few seconds. Like every warcry in one. It was like the joy Dane had felt when she’d knelt before the Queen, a sword touching her shoulders and was declared a knight before a roaring crowd. It was incredible, and so odd to think that just a gentle pair of lips and a determined mouth could elicit it.

“Where did you learn that?” Dane asked as her wife-to-be kissed up her body. “Did someone—”

“I’m somewhat of a scholar,” the Patroness interrupted her. “I enjoy all types of literature.”

“Oh,” Dane said, and accepted that. “I’m not so,” she swallowed, “well-read, myself.”

Her wife-to-be laughed, and lay beside her on the table. “Let me dictate, then,” she said in that same foreboding tone, and then looked expectantly down her body.

Struck by childish fear that she would be unable to satisfy her wife-to-be—the Knights of the Order were all secretly terrified of that, much more than they were of any of the fearsome beasts they often had to slay—Dane kissed down her soft body to the dress bunched around her hips.

She was at a loss as to what to do from that point, but gentle hands guided her, a gentle voice instructed her, and soon the Patroness was recumbent in the light pouring from the windows, her chest heaving, her back arching, and her voice shouting and pleading and whispering those magic words that Dane didn’t understand. Words that made things fly off the table and shatter against the wall, words that made her body glow the colour of her dress as she, too, felt the one thousand victories and the greatest joys.

And when she’d fallen still and Dane was lying beside her on the table, content that she didn’t fail as a husband, and content that now this woman must come down the mountain and back to civilisation, the Patroness heaved her own contented sigh. “I’m glad you were the one knight that Munch didn’t eat.”

Dane made a noise. “I would have slain that foul creature, it wouldn’t have been the other way around.”

“You have a thing about dragons,” her wife-to-be commented. She didn’t sound surprised, though. “Why is that?”

Dane shook her head tightly. “It’s a long story,” she said, and then laced her fingers with her wife-to-be’s and enjoyed looking upon the contrast. “Let’s just say I am pleased I will be escorting you from this infernal place and restoring you to the safety of the city.”

The Patroness watched her neutrally. “Dragons are creatures just like any other, and they are highly intelligent,” she cringed, probably remembering the spitting dragonspawn on the chandelier, “if they’re allowed to mature without being cut down like animals to the slaughter, that is. They grow to have a capacity for great thought and great vision”

“Also a capacity for great destruction and great ruin,” Dane said firmly.

“Sounds like another race I know,” the Patroness commented, smiling lazily across at her with those startlingly green eyes. “Anyway, I’m looking forward to learning more about the society you come from,” she told Dane. “There seems to be so much more to your culture than I thought.”

It was an odd thing to say. “Which people are you from, anyway?” Dane asked of her. “I’ve never seen anyone with eyes quite like yours.”

Her wife-to-be laughed. “Yes, well, magic does help a little with that.”

Dane’s eyebrows went up, and then they went down. “You alter them with magic?”

The Patroness’ laugh may have been a little nervous. “Let me answer that another way,” she said, rolling onto her side and tracing an idle circle on Dane’s tan skin. “Why do you think you always have to rescue pretty young maidens?”

Dane shrugged. “I would have thought that’s self-evident,” she said. “Monsters would rather kidnap pretty young creatures than old and ugly ones.”

The Patroness made a non-committal noise. “Well, alright, that’s a fair theory. Consider this: do you think you’d race so gallantly up a mountain if an ugly old woman waited for you at the top?” Dane opened her mouth to declare that she would save anyone who needed saving, but her wife-to-be guessed her purpose and cut her off. “Alright, maybe you would, but generally speaking, knights don’t. They only gallop into certain danger for the chance to rescue and marry beautiful women. Therefore, it is in the maiden’s best interest to appear as beautiful as possible.”

Dane could see where this was headed, and as the light from the window coloured this beautiful woman’s skin, a knot formed in Dane’s stomach. “If you’re not beautiful, my lady, I will still marry you, and I will learn to love you,” she said. “You needn’t hide your true self from me and fear I won’t marry you. I would never sully a maiden and then abandon her. It goes against every fibre of my being.”

Her wife-to-be opened her mouth and then closed it, and then made a face. “Oh dear,” she said, squinting her eyes shut and then opening them again. “This was perhaps not the brightest idea I’ve ever had. And as much as I just shouldn’t tell you… I should, shouldn’t I? Because I think you will understand me and us better if I do.” She took a breath. “Would you like to see how my eyes really look?”

Dane nodded, her heart beginning to pound. She had a bad feeling about this. Just who had she bound herself to marry…?

The Patroness closed her eyes for a moment and when they opened again, they were the same brilliant green as before. It was just that they were the slit pupils of a dragon.

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Continue to Chapter Two