The raiders waited until the inhabitants of the reeve’s manor were all abed before they struck, slipping through the darkened, mist-shrouded woods with the grace of shadows, silent and invisible in their robes and cowls of pitch-black cloth. The first to witness their intrusion was the milkmaid, fresh milk spilling from her wooden pail as she spotting the dark figures moving towards her, a gloved hand clamping over her mouth to smother her scream of warning in its crib. From there, things went easily. Greencrest was at the southern fringes of the Empire, far from its borders with rival states, the Sea of Tempests and its many pirates, or indeed any danger great enough to warrant a local garrison of the Blue Legion, so the raid went unchallenged and the village proper slept undisturbed, ignorant to the drama occurring several miles beyond their flimsy palisade. The rest of the servants were roused from their beds and forced into the wine cellar, frightened yet unharmed. The reeve himself, woken from his drunken slumber in the great hall by the prick of a sword at his throat and unwilling to fight in defense of his home and family, contented himself with hurling outraged insults at the invaders as he was locked inside his own bedroom, the promises of torture and execution at his hands sliding off them like rainwater.

For they’d gotten what they came for.

Dragged away by her upper arms by a pair of the raiders, Katarin struggled like a caged wildcat as she was hauled out of the manor and into the woods beyond, waist-length scarlet locks whipping about her as she fought. At nineteen, the reeve’s stepdaughter was a beauty fit to turn a man’s blood to smoke at the mere sight of her, while more than one eager young suitor had been reduced to a babbling wreck when her eyes, deep and rich and green as the summer leaves, fell upon him. Her simple garb, befitting her common birth, did little to detract from her loveliness; a bodice of brown leather drawn snugly about her torso highlighting her figure, the low cut of her long-sleeved white shirt offering a tantalizing glimpse of pale, smooth skin and generous cleavage, shapely legs and bare feet peeking out from beneath a long skirt of dark green wool. To this ensemble, stout bondage had been added. Slim-fingered hands, adept at gathering the various medicinal herbs she found foraging about the woods, were left to flex helplessly against the cords binding her wrists behind her back, while a wooden bit buckled tightly between her full crimson lips reduced her protests to garbled, meaningless utterances.

Horses were waiting for the raiding party behind the cover of the treeline, saddled and ready to ride at a moment’s notice, and the beautiful redhead endured a further indignity as she was draped onto her stomach over the back of the nearest beast and hauled away like a sack of grain. How long the raiders rode with their prize, Katarin couldn’t say, the woods that surrounded them passing by in a blur as they galloped down the old forest road, leaving the manor a vague memory behind them to be swallowed up by the mists. Eventually, they emerged into a foggy clearing, neither men nor beasts injured despite the reckless haste of their flight, and at a single gesture from their leader, the band continued onwards, leaving him alone with his captured prize, blue eyes aflame with lust behind the shroud of his cowl. “So, what am I to do with you?”

“Mmmppgghh!” Katarin shouted, still straining helplessly against her bonds. Strong arms lifted her from the saddle and placed her against an ancient oak, the moss-slick bark chill and unwelcome against her back, and the redhead shivered as a gloved hand caressed her angular cheeks, his other reaching down to tease the hem of her skirt. “Mmmmppggghhh!”

“Sell you as a slave, perhaps? There are many men who’d pay well for a beautiful maiden like yourself, especially untouched. Or…” Katarin gave a small grunt as she was laid back onto the wet grass, legs parting at his touch upon her thighs. “Perhaps I should claim you for myself?” the raider whispered, pulling back his cowl and tracing his lips over the curve of her slim, shapely neck.

Despite herself, Katarin groaned in pleasure. “And what about you, my pretty?” her captor demanded mockingly, inhaling the scent of her hair before reaching behind her head to unbuckle the gag. “What do you thi--?”

Scarlet lips crashed against his own, passionately, greedily, leaving both kidnapper and hostage flushed and panting for breath. “I think you're an utter arse, Marcus. And you’re having far too much fun playing the villainous raider,” Katarin expressed, her joy betrayed by the radiant smile gracing her lips. “Are you sure it’s safe to linger here?”

“Trust me, we will be safe,” Marcus Valentin assured his lover, stripping away his black cloak to reveal the well-maintained brigandine, cuisses and vambraces of the Blue Legion, the wooden badge of centurion primus affixed with pride at the right side of his chest. “It’ll take hours for either your stepfather or his servants to free themselves, never mind get to Greencrest to raise the alarm, and we’ll be long gone by then, love, I promise you.”

“Praise the gods,” proclaimed the redhead. “You certainly arrived in the nick of time. Once the bruises had faded, that… creature would have sold me off to Vlad the swineherd. A day or two longer, at most. And if he had, I… I…” She left out a great, shuddering breath, as if to expel all the pain and fear and grief she’d been forced to endure since her now-dead mother first came to the reeve’s bed. “Thank you for saving me.”

“Hey, I’m just glad your message managed to reach Fort Vigilus in time,” said Marcus. A shadow suddenly darkened his handsome features, and he lifted the bound young woman up, gently lifting her chin so their eyes met. “Are you absolutely sure you want this, though?”

“What are you talking about?” Katarin demanded in confusion. All around them, the misty woods had gone still, as if the world itself was holding its breath. “Marcus, I--”

“Asked me to carry you off in the old way, I know, and I’m happy to do it. But… I’ve loved you from the moment we first met, Katarin, and the last thing I want to do is to cause you any unhappiness. If you’re not sure about us, if you would rather walk your own path, you need but ask. I won’t stand in your way.”

Katarin’s answer was another bruising kiss. “You fool,” she whispered huskily, holding herself up high. “Do you honestly think I’d ask you to do all this for me, to risk being arrested or killed, if I wasn’t certain of my choice? I am not some cheap trinket for the pig who calls himself my stepfather to barter away for the sake of his own greed, and I refuse to put up with those small-minded fools in the village any longer either. Whatever comes, Marcus, I am yours, and you are mine. There’s nothing more that needs to be said.”

“Whatever comes, huh?” Marcus said, grinning broadly, and Katarin gasped in pleasure as he slid in behind her, warm breath tickled her ear. “Does that include being bound and gagged?”

The redhead’s blush deepened. “It’s not an… unpleasant experience. At least at your hands.”

“Good.” The wooden bit was raised to her lips, and Katarin obediently accepted. “Now, let’s get back to my men. Your stepfather won’t be looking for a supply cart being escorted by Legion soldiers, and once you’re safe and settled, well… I’m yours. Whatever comes.”

The redhead let out a little giggle through the gag, and Marcus lifted her up onto his horse and set out on a careful trot back into the dense woods, a happiness they’d never known before buoying their souls. She was his, and he was hers.

Whatever comes.