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Squire's Secret (Benny and Gunner)

When Friderick plunged his finger into her depths, he didn’t imagine her to be so wet already. His intent, and slightly cruel jest, to invoke such a sensation in her was seemingly pre-empted by her own wants and desires. For him. Truly, for him? It was both astonishing to know and yet terrifying in scope. This Lady, this heiress to a great duchy, was deeply desirous of him in ways he couldn’t even fathom. But what he could comprehend was his own ravenous attraction of her in turn. Her slender form, her muscular physique, her silky hair and wide eyes and indeed, a very sultry body, had him riled in ways that was far from appropriate. Yet here they were. And the shame was less heated as the seconds wore on, for what did appropriateness matter when they both felt the same?

Her wetness was matched only by the throbbing erection of his manhood behind her, nestling against her rear, grinding as he worked her body with firm, deep strokes of his finger, soon a second to be added, plunging rapidly in and out. He felt the reverberations of her moans against his palm. He felt keenly the grip and scratching of her hands against his, not in any desperation to escape or evidence of pain, but in a clinginess fashion. For more. He could feel the intensity bubbling up in Jacqueline in the way her reactions to his fingering seemed to grow. Her grip was harder. Her motions more rhythmic. She was relying more and more on him to keep her propped up, something his strong arms easily accomplished.

But it was soon over, as her body climaxed and flooded about his pervading fingers, drenching them in her essence and juices. The thought of her encased in such an orgasmic cage was strangely enticing to Friderick. He did this. He did this to her. Her sounds, her movements, indescribable in proportion, was so amazing to his mind. He had to do this again. Making a woman delve into such sexual bliss was equivalent to winning a tournament basically. Perhaps more. Well, it wouldn’t be a tourney win if he didn’t…break the lance once or twice. Within her.

Friderick removed his fingers with a slick noise. Even though they were isolated in the bathing chamber, a whole floor above the common room of the tavern, everything still felt so keen and emphasized. Even her muffled moaning. He covered up her mouth and she still made sound? That was something that needed to be worked on. But for now, he withdrew his fingers and saw them slick with her juices, like some divine honey brought forth from God’s own table. He just had to. Bringing them up past her vision, he promptly suckled both fingers clean in his mouth, the taste being exactly how he imagined. Perfect. Flawless. Removing his hand then from her mouth, finally, he turned her face and gaze upwards to his looming above, only so he could capture her lips next in a quick, passionate kiss.

“You still make too much noise.” He commented quietly, with the hints of a smile on his lips. Placing his hands on her little shoulders, which were quite toned and defined, he promptly bent her over the edge. “Prop yourself up. Come on.” He urged her, slapping her rear lightly to encourage her, wanting her to use her hands on the edge to help boost out her rear and hips towards his own. His own manhood hovered above, like an ominous eclipse about to cover the sun. Keeping one large bearlike hand on her shoulder, he took his manhood in the other and directed it to the grounds he had just prepared. The head of his member brushed to her outer folds, sending back lances of pleasure as his sensitive organ began to push within. Wrong? Shame? Guilt? None of that even factored in any more. Holding her body steady, with two great thrusts, he punched his way right to her core and depths, filling her up entirely.

He groaned at the tight sensation that hugged his cock, as if never wanting him to leave. So he began his game of cruel jesting, drawing back as if to depart, only to slam back in. The first few thrusts were long, hard, and hit very deep, before he remembered the fact they had to cover up their true relationship, with his hand once more reaching around to clamp over her mouth. The other gripped her sides, where it could, digging into her taut ribcage to keep her from being bowled right out of the bath tub by his eager spearing of her body. He wanted her to feel that encaging orgasm again, conducted at the tip of his lance. He wanted her to melt and be so needy again. It just felt so rewarding to Friderick, something he felt so much in need of, for it was real, and mutual, and felt so very perfect in so many ways. Reeling his hips back, he began to fuck her hard, more rapidly, budding up a fast pace that was perhaps far too rapacious given it was only their second time.

But she was tough. He liked to think he had a hand in that. She could take it, right? Just hopefully, she could…quietly.
 
Another light shiver shook her body as he slipped his fingers from her center. Jacqueline huffed a sigh against his hand, her breath evening out finally. She was relaxed against him, her nails no longer biting into his flesh. Instead her fingers lightly stroked where her nails had dug in, content if still so tightly trapped against him. Her eyes drifted up as he raised his fingers to suckle the slick juices from them. Eyebrows quirked curiously at the action, puzzled but a strange, excited knot jerked alive in her guts. Lord, why was that so enticing?

His hand dropped from her mouth and she could finally take a full breath. Friderick, however, only gave her time for one before catching her lips. She grinned into the short, hard kiss with an appreciative little chuff in her throat. His comment brought a sheepish grin to her lips with a quiet "sorry." Though, given that hint of a smile, he didn't entirely mind. She'd have to be a little better about it, however, seeing as how they weren't isolated in the woods. The walls of the inn couldn't be so thick that others wouldn't hear. She was easy to push forward and down, gripping the edge of the tub. Her hips gave a little jerk at the short, sharp, slap to her hindquarters. She couldn't stifle a giggle at the tingling heat even from such a gentle tap. Her back arched down, hips and head up. A hiss rushed past her teeth as she felt the tip of his brush against her core.

Jacqueline's eyes shot wide at the sudden, hard thrust. Her body suddenly stretched to accommodate the intrusion. Fingers gripped the tub edge with white knuckled intensity and a high noise, a mingling of delighted groan and cry of pain, reverberated in the back of her mouth. She tried valiantly to clench her teeth shut and make less sound. Her teeth felt fit to crack with how hard she clenched them. A second hard thrust and his hips collided with hers. Her toes curled, body tight and rigid, as a long moaning whine hissed from her throat. How pain could be so enjoyable she struggled to fathom as her body seemed to barely be able to handle him. She shivered and groaned as he drew back only to slam his hips into her once more. Jacqueline struggled to keep her jaw clenched, the high cry trying desperately to escape her throat. Each hard thrust made the struggle worse until he reached forward and clamped a hand to her mouth once more. Her jaw relaxed and her body followed suit. Another slam into her depths brought a warbling cry, teeth scraping against his palm.

The need for quiet was nearly forgotten as his pacing quickened. The slick, fleshy sounds filling the small chamber with her muffled cries against his palm. The sounds somewhere between delighted moans and cries of pain. Friderick didn't seem eager to give any quarter. So different than the gentler massage of his fingers. Despite the still sharp pains that lashed with every hard and fast thrust into her they accompanied a warm, searing delight. Jacqueline's vision swam, delirious almost from a such a delightful assault. That painful and pleasurable pressure built again, making her body tighten around him. She strained and panted against his palm, her sounds barely leashed and muffled. With her mind in a hot, swirling fog she barely tried to keep the high moans and cries to a minimum.

Though the cries halted once more as Friderick got what he desired from her. Her body gripped him tighter, every fiber of her being seized and clenched. Teeth damn near sank into his palm. A tremor wracked her from toe to crown as waves of heat rushed across her, leasing that pressure into rivulets of electric fire. A long, high delighted whine whistled against his palm as the waves pulsed and ebbed until she could relax once again.
 
Even with the muffling of his hand, her moaning still seemed far too audible for Friderick’s liking. They were in their own little bubble, quite separated from reality, and all his five senses were far too keen within. Everything seemed so much more profound. Every noise, every touch, it felt double in terms of magnitude. The risk of discovery was great. Too great. Yet so was the sensation, far too pleasurable, to stop. A part of his mind worried of the consequences. The greater half said so what? and kept on churning the wheels in its pursuit of that goal. So what? In that moment, that very instant, when weighing up the two sides, it was clear which one held the greater force. He bucked, she groaned, and together they worked towards that delicious outcome.

Jacqueline was so small, so tight, barely able to receive him. And he was so big. And so long. His hand on her side nearly engulfed half her torso as he held her steady, positioned to take his ramming thrusts over and over, the flat thud of his body spearing into her rear resonating in the room much more loudly than any sound her mouth made. And yet he was more concerned about that? He could see how the force rippled through her flesh, shaking the tendons of her muscle, outlining for a brief second all the taut strength in her little form that she possessed. Even in the bath, sweat began to prick at his body. He was almost there. He panted, he grunted, he let out hissing rasps of breath. It seemed so simple a thing, rolling his hips back and forth. And yet it was not. It was tough, straining, and he gave it all he had almost to a point of feral madness.

And then at last it came. For them both. Her own reaction was to bite but that only made his hand clamp around her mouth tighter in response. His hips bumped to hers as much as was humanly possible, riding out his orgasm in a tight, very intimate grind of her backside as his seed painted her insides the same hue as the liquid around their pupils. A satisfying groan came from his lips, a true release of emotion, without guilt or shame mixed in. Nothing but pure bliss, his body shuddering from the climax, and his mighty form heaving with the need for breath. The composure came after what seemed a long time, though it was but a moment, Friderick relaxing with a deep inhale and a warm exhale that flushed over her back.

Shakily, he removed his hand from her face and drew it back. Wetly, he pulled out of her, giving her rear a friendly pat as knights and squires might do after a rigorous sparring exercise of sword and shield. There was a splash as Friderick allowed himself to fall back to the opposite end of the tub, where he finally sank under what little water was left within, arms along the edge of the tub as he looked at the slick damage he wrought to Jacqueline’s noble womanhood. Her backside and upper thighs, battered red. One half of her torso had a very red welt from where he had fiercely gripped her and no doubt similar finger sized splotches were upon her jaw and cheeks too from that grip he had held.

Look, they had did it again.

“That…was both stupendous, and…” Friderick muttered, not even bothering to mention the opposite feeling of that. Shameful. But even his own mind raged at him, being sick of hearing that lecture when he went and did the exact opposite. Twice. How could he have gotten roped into this? Is this what he had truly intended the whole time? How was this conducive to Jacqueline gaining her wish to become a knight? And yet here they were. She had kissed him first. “We should return. To the room.” Friderick said after barely a moment of resting in the water, rising in his naked form as the liquid cascaded down his form. He seized a towel. They were still singing and drinking in the common room. No one was coming upstairs. This was their chance to make a break for it.

She had no clothes here. Friderick gave her his shirt to cover, while he adorned his trousers only. But the coast was clear, same as when they had come in, and it was a short trek to their bedroom where the door could be latched and their scandal once more concealed from the world at large. How she could walk after the pounding he had given her was truly something else. And he had thought to suggest they spar, with blade, earlier today. But now? It was unlikely. “You are not…well, are you hurt? It looks like a wild beast had at you.” Friderick noted with a half grin, inside their rented lodging. He knew he had been that wild beast. How did she feel about it all, exactly? A very large part of him had to know. It made the gratification so much sweeter.

“We should not again.” Friderick added in a quiet whisper as he settled down for slumber. “Not until we satisfy the Mother Superior with her need for supplies. This is not why we got involved. We should accomplish something, as we had intended, and promised. You hear me?” He said to Jacqueline, still lecturing on the ethics of it all, though at least this time it bore more traits of acceptance rather than outright rejection. Let us do something to earn the pleasure first. Still fighting the guilt of it, of course.

But laying down, in the dark room, so close to one another…his cock was still semi-erect in his trousers. And the moonlight seemed so bright as it streamed in through the narrow window. He tried to resist the urge but his body craved it so much. The pleasure, the closeness of it, the…raw, primal nature that they both invoked, so very true to their nature. There was no lies, no deceptions, no barriers. Just a man and just a woman. What was there to dislike?
 
His hand suddenly clenching her face with her teeth in his palm nearly cut off her breath. Not that she needed it, her chest stilled in the throes of climax. From behind she felt the sudden, hard slam of his hips against hers, pressing and bearing down. That barely familiar twitch from within and the spreading warmth as his seed spilled inside of her brought another shivery delight down her spine to mingled with the warm, pleased sigh drifting across her back. Her breath returned with a little gasp as his hand drew back, lapsing into a rasping pant as he drew out of her. A huffing laugh escaped her with the affectionate pat. For the time being she felt unable to move, her hands locked to the edge of the bath even as Friderick fell back into the water.

Slowly she managed to unlock her fingers and straighten back up as he muttered absently. Jacqueline turned to look at him, her face still mottled from the grip of his hand just like her side, rear, and thighs. A faint grin stretched her lips. She had a hunch what else he thought having heard enough lectures on the fact. Better it was left unsaid. How could it be anything but right? Like a fly to fire she was drawn to Friderick, hardly able to deny him or herself. It was almost maddening to want so terribly. Worse when he tried to condemn it...but now? It seemed he didn't have the heart to. At least the breath, they had been rather active.

Her head tilted at him when he said it was time to return. "But you...hardly bathed..." she said quietly even as he rose from the water and fetched a towel to dry himself off. Blue eyes followed him, watching the thick muscles rippled beneath his skin. Why did her mouth go so suddenly dry? Jacqueline stepped from the bath just as he passed her his shirt to skitter back to the room. She winced some, her body a little sore but not so much she didn't crave more still. Her bare feet padded quietly behind as they ducked back into the sanctity of the small room. Jacqueline huffed a sigh once it was bolted and moved to remove the borrowed shirt. A shame in a way, she did rather enjoy wearing it. It smelled strongly of Friderick, warm and soft from age and use. Not to mention it was large enough it covered as well as a summer chemise would, the hem hanging just above her knees.

"Not as before...perhaps the wildbeast was more tamed this time...or it grows easier each time. I should think more practice might be needed to know for sure and certain," she said with a sly little grin. Though Friderick seemed keen to, once more, attempt to condemn it. A little. Just for the time being. Until they actually accomplished their task. Half of her thought to agree. It was logical. They shouldn't be doing such things. Why was it so difficult to resist? Even as he laid himself down to sleep it was hard not to stare. So finely built, hard muscle beneath smooth skin, a massive expanse she just wanted to curl up into like some spoiled cat. Jacqueline sat herself on the bed slowly before laying down. "As you say," she finally managed to respond with a small huff.

Rest was the furthest thing from her mind though. Even with her on the small, low bed and him on the floor they were so near at height. She watched, unabashed, as his chest rose and fell in the soft beam of moonlight. Oh she could have turned over, stared at the dull wall, but where was the joy in that? It was ridiculous to try and deny the warm pangs deep in the belly. Jacqueline's hands clenched into fists. He had said no. No more until their task was done. Despite everything she was his squire and honor-bound to obey. Then again...

"You know though...." she said quietly as she edged towards the side of the bed. Slowly, like some snake sliding from a tree after prey, she slid off the bed until her body, still wearing his shirt like a scanty dress, draped over his. "There isn't much to be done for the convent at night," she said in a low, almost purring whisper. She didn't wait for his response, scooting up to catch his lips with hers to stop any protest. Of course, he hardly needed words. He had proven he could fling her around like a child's doll.

The kiss was softer, gentler, her little hands sliding up to rest at the side of his neck. She didn't let it go beyond that, a sweet press of her lips to his. A butterfly on a a rose. Slowly she pulled back, but only just, trailing a kiss to his cheek and jaw, down to his neck. Unsure she merely mimicked his own actions, remembering the thrilling heat as his lips graced her neck. Still soft as chick down her lips left a trail of kisses along the sinew of his neck, the savory tang of his skin ever so sweet on her lips. A strange desire of exploring him more whipped through her mind. Not even questioning it she let her lips and hands explore the planes of his body. Hands drifting along his ribs as her lips traced collar bones and chest. Down and down to his sternum and stomach. Her hands brushed against the hem of his pants as her lips traveled ever downward.

Another odd thought crossed her. How strange but wondrous his own lips and tongue hand been on her, between her legs. Hardly shy or hesitant with the notion her fingers worked the laces of his breeches, shimmying the hem down until she freed him from the confines. A small pang of nerves set in and she felt a flush creep to her face as she stared down his freed manhood. She had already gone so far she could hardly stop. The moment of hesitation became an odd dance of curious and questioning kisses along the shaft, her eyes flicking up towards him curiously as she made her way towards the tip. Suddenly remembering his use of tongue she flicked hers against him, listening for encouraging sounds. Her lips and tongue worked right to the tip and she hesitated again. Well she knew how it fit one way...then logically....with a short, steeling breath she wrapped her lips around the head of his cock. How such a grand thing had fit inside of her she hardly knew. Her jaw felt stretched to its limit as she took as much of him into her mouth as possible, which seemed hardly much at all. She used her hand to slide along the rest of his shaft where her mouth struggled to reach.

Perhaps a touch awkward at first she figured out a rhythm, her head bobbing in the soft light. Her pace varied, speeding up with shorter strokes before slowing with longer strokes taking him in near to the back of her throat.
 
Friderick did hardly bathe. But if he lingered in that tub any longer with Jacqueline, she would be needing another bath herself. It did not matter much to his sensibilities. He cleansed, was dried, and soon the cycle would be repeat once they hit the road or picked up their training blades. She handed him his shirt back before he could even offer up any modesty. Did she not care? Then again why should it even matter? He had been in her deepest places of intimacy and had touched her wherever. Tasted her. Even hurt her, with his ravenous thrusting. Why should dignity play any part now? But he looked at her, as she shed the garment, as if it was his first time seeing her in such a state. Perky breasts, pink nipples, a tight slit, and a strong, slender body as the canvas for this beauty. His mouth watered and his cock grew yet again.

Sleep. Yes. Sleep and a clear mind should push away these rowdy thoughts and return them to normalcy. The room was dark, save for a candle on their little corner table. It was a small ray of illumination against the silver bathe of moonlight that came through their little window. Yes, slumber and darkness was coming. And normalcy. Yet barely a modest duration of time passed before Jacqueline began to ponder aloud, causing Friderick to huff himself now. What was the issue now?

He turned his head and saw her scooting to the edge of her cot, nearest to him. It seemed a great effort to keep his eyes on her face, though they drifted down to her breasts more than once, sitting there on her chest. Begging, or so it seemed, to be touched or kissed by him. It was such a stiff perk and Friderick never truly got to explore its texture, touch, and other senses. The distraction would serve her purposes though, as before he could answer her comment about further work for the convent, she was upon him, joining her lips to his. And with his previous thoughts, there was no putting the genie back in the bottle. Her naked, dry body against his was far too enticing. His hands and arms moved up to wrap and draw her nearer, returning her kiss, and molding her against him. She began to kiss him all over, giving him tingly goosebumps, each one a panoply of sensations to enjoy and drown in. But again he lost sight of what this little vixen truly intended. He was helpless against her assaults. And before he knew it, lost in the swirling tingles of her kisses, she had moved down his large frame and positioned herself…at his cock.

“What-“ are you doing? But Friderick already knew. He could guess. And it was rather a correct guess. Opening his breeches would see his cock spring out, enlarged and erect, enticed to such a point even before she began this renewed game. It was clear evidence that he desired this, and her, and there was no stopping it now as he used one arm to lift up his torso, allowing him to loom and watch, while the other raked into her hair. She began to kiss him tentatively and Friderick gasped at first as if he had been burned in surprise, though it was nothing like that. It was akin to being uplifted, falling through the air, feeling hollow, and yet electrified, all at once. His hips jerked. His toes curled. And that was only from the mere kisses she planted along his length. What came next caused him to groan in pleasure, very loudly, as she swallowed the head of his member into her mouth.

“Jacqueline, dear god…” he stammered aloud, head careening back a moment as he panted his joyous pleasure to the ceiling, before his head lolled forward in a hazy state, watching her swallow, watching her suck and take his cock down into her mouth. He didn’t question where this came from. It was divine and heavenly. His hand on her head and hair gripped tighter, his palm helping to flow her head up and down. Her little hand on his shaft was something else entirely, cold to his throbbing warmth, yet so delicate in the handling, coaxing his seed with gentle massaging. Or so it seemed on the outside. Within, Friderick was a whirlwind of sensations, unable to catch sight or hold of himself, and like a fierce tidal wave, it began to roll up and down within him, bubbling to an explosive conclusion. His abdomen, flexed and constrained, shifted with his laborious panting as well. It was coming. And it was coming big.

With a stifled cry, remembering the need for secrecy, it all finally spilled over. His hand on her hair was tight, firm, and his whole body was pushed to the breaking point. Friderick climaxed, feeling it speed its way up his shaft and right into, and over, Jacqueline’s mouth and face. Several great spurts did he egress, hips and abdomen rolling as he rode out his climax against her lips. Did she not know how her actions always seemed to get this messy? Or maybe she just enjoyed it. But now it was upon her, over her, staining her features in a way that looked surprisingly…perfect. That was his seed, on her face, and it belonged.

“Look at you. Look what you’ve done.” Friderick panted, with no small degree of astonishment on his part at how much he put out, and her eagerness to take it. This was her own action and fault! But it didn’t feel that way. It felt so…right. And this time, Friderick had no efforts or desire to try and condemn this. He slumped back, body spread, cock drained but still significant, panting and fighting for composure. There was no better way to be lulled into sleep than by this. And at last, a return to normalcy. Or perhaps…this was the new normalcy to expect.
 
Oh the sounds. If she could she would grin ear to ear with that symphony. As it stood her lips were strained enough, stretched near to their limit around Friderick's girth. She didn't really understand why the sounds were so pleasing to hear. The hissing sighs and pants, the guttural moans and groans. They spurred her on to accommodate just a bit more of him into her mouth though it was hardly substantial with their very uneven sizing. She glanced to time every so often, her eyes managing to do all the grinning her lips couldn't. Jacqueline followed the pacing he encouraged with his large hand buried into her hair. There wasn't a lot to cling to but he managed a handful of the red silk.

Her confidence and courage grew as she worked his cock with lips and tongue, aided just a little by her hand. The way his hips jerked, how his hand gripped her hair, the symphony of pleasure song from his lips. All of it was very...inspiring. Enough that he might feel that slick, wet, heat against his thigh where she sat. Though despite the growing confidence she had little knowledge of what to expect as the groaning grew deeper and he struggled to keep his silence. She felt him twitch, felt him grip her hair all the harder suddenly to hold her suddenly captive. Blue eyes widened with surprise at the sudden explosion. Her head jerked back, barely given his grip on her. The hot, sticky substance coated her tongue but not near as much as the rest of her face. Ropes of his seed splashed across her face with several strong spurts. Across cheek and lips, her eyes snapped shut just in time as a line landed across her brow and eyelid.

Jacqueline's unobscured eye lifted to Friderick as he managed to speak. If that heaving pant counted. The singular eye blinked a moment before she reached up and touched a sticky trail on her chin. She looked down at it on her fingers in the light, perhaps a little more than shocked as well. Though clearly for different reasons. She hadn't expected it to be so...messy. Was it always like this? Suddenly she burned with a million and a half questions. Her mouth opened but snapped shut as Friderick collapsed back. The one open eyes blinked again she before she gave a small snort of a laugh. "Oh ho...now you're tired," she said through the laughed before leaning back to grab the discarded towel. The cloth was rough on her face but she cleaned herself up well enough.

Forget the bed. Jacqueline slid up along Friderick's side and tucked herself against him, nestling her head on his shoulder. She heaved and long, content sigh that drifted across his neck and let her eyes close finally. It had been a...very eventful day.

The next morning dawned with a dim, cloudy light. The wind picked up and a dampness in the air told of coming rains. Though inside a protected room it was perfectly warm and cozy. Never mind a hard floor to sleep on. Jacqueline curled up close to Friderick, her naked body wound and wrapped around as much of him as she could reach. The dim, watery light of the sun trying to peer through clouds seeped into the small window. It was just enough that Jacqueline stirred. Her eyes blinked slowly open and she gave a wide, lazy feline yawn. So warm and cozy, wrapped up comfortably she hardly felt like rousing. There were things to do though.

Slowly she unwound herself from Friderick and got up, stretching and yawning once more after she got to her feet. Up on her toes, reaching for the ceiling, before huffing and dropping back to her heels. Perhaps sleeping on the floor had been foolish. She was far too young to have such aches when waking. Though one ache was not from a hard slumber. A sweet, burning sort of ache between her legs that came from something else hard. Jacqueline grinned some as she wriggled into her britches and wrapped cloth around her chest to bind down her breasts then pull on her shirt and tunic. Boots were last and she left the room to fetch some breakfast for them. Jacqueline wasn't gone long and returned with a decent tray of cold meats, apple slices, fresh bread and butter, and a pitcher of dark beer.
 
What a pretty sight they would have made. And a very scandalous one. There Friderick lay, on his narrow cot, absolutely naked in the tavern room. And there she lay, upon him, the daughter of a Duke, who was supposed to be and was indeed thought to be, by everyone in the tavern, to be a young man. She lay upon his naked form, pulled there by his own desire for comfort, one of his arms lazily wrapped around her lower back just above the delicate curve of her rear, with his other arm bent behind his head. They were both naked, both very content, both having done things that neither should be doing with one another, by the laws and traditions of their elders and culture. Yet they had. And they both had enjoyed it very much.

Morning dawn and Friderick would find he had rolled Jacqueline into a tight little ball to the side, which his body nearly encompassed two-thirds about, outlining her frame from behind with his larger one. His arm was still about her and he too stirred when she got up, opening his eyes to see her stretching before him. A joyous and most ravishing sight, as all her muscles and curves seemed awash in the fresh light of the sun. She was indeed beautiful in a way, strong and taut, yet womanly all the same. His morning stiffness certainly seemed to agree. But even with a tired mind even he knew there would be no indulgence that morning. There was far too much risk of discovery now that the sun was up.

He was partway getting dressed when Jacqueline returned with breakfast. Was that dark beer? He didn’t like dark beer, especially for breakfast. “We ride within the hour. I want to make good time. There’s a string of villages on this road until the Swanflood crossings. We’ll check each for food supplies.” Friderick informed bluntly, not dwelling much on the previous nights encounter. Not that it was wrong anymore. But that, if he did think of it, then would come all the justifications in his mind for making every little pitstop and halt along their journey. Just so he could do it again. With her.

After breakfast was indulged, Friderick settled up with the bartender. “’ear there’s brigands up yonder. Best stay off the roads after noon.” The bartender informed him.

“Then we’d never get any traveling done.” Friderick snorted, but it was a warning he would heed, to some extent. There were brigands on every road nowadays. Peace, prosperity, and a lack of large scale warfare meant there was a population boom like never before, but not enough food or work to satisfy all. There were always malcontents and troublemakers on the road. The advice was as common and yet forgotten as being told the sun rose in the east and set in the west.

Their pack animal was now drawing their wagon, with their personal supplies and goods tucked into one small corner, with plenty of space for sacks of grain and other foodstuffs they could deliver to the convent. The first few towns were easy going. They would ride to the village square, often the center of a squabble of huts and hovels, and speak with the local elders about who currently had excess to sell. Friderick, having lorded over farms and other agricultural work before, knew enough to barter over the price of grain, barley, and oats. Little by little, more space on their wagon was taken up. In a single day they filled nearly two thirds of it up. But there were still many more villages on the road to the Swanflood Crossings, where afterwards men spoke a different tongue and were not too fond of outsiders like their sort.

The bartender’s advice hardly seemed fitting. It was the harvest season and they were not the only ones on the road. They passed other groups of travelers almost seven or eight times that first day, moving between villages, as they were as well. There were no feudal soldiers but the villagers seemed to police themselves pretty effectively. But other few knights they saw were often elderly or drunkards enjoying a retirement in some distant corner of the world, which happened to be where they were. They had their niche here. They didn’t look kindly on Friderick and his little duke squire moving about. What nice gear they had too, these interlopers.

Friderick made sure they camped near a village or on the outskirts of one. It was always safer. The second day, they were further away from the convent and it grew more sparsely populated and more wild. But the folk were still about. To a degree. But soon it did grow quiet as the trips between villages grew longer. Coming upon a bend in the road, they could espy through the foliage of forestry and shrubbery of a downturned wagon and two men standing nearby. It looked…strange, in a way. “Wait here, I’ll go see what it’s about.” Friderick told Jacqueline and went up by himself.

The birds weren’t singing around here. They only did that when they were watchful…or danger was nearby.

"Hey." Came a voice, a minute after Friderick had gone. Silently, a young man had crept up behind the wagon and was now standing aside it, looking at Jacqueline from behind. He looked a bit older than her, rougher, dirtier, and carrying a long quarterstaff, though many peasants often did. "Are you a knight?" He asked curiously, coming to circle around in front of Jacqueline. He looked innocent enough. "You're not going to hurt my uncles, are you?" He also asked, looking up at her, or the boy he thought she was. He moved so silently.

He seemed to ignore her questions however. "Is that your horse? What's his name?" He asked next, looking wide-eyed at the beast. "Yeah if we had one of his kind, we could do so much..." he murmured enviously. He approached William from the front, nonthreateningly, hand extended to let the beast smell. "We won't hurt him. Much." He said in the same quiet tone, looking up at Jacqueline. Before very rapidly smashing the top of his quarterstaff into her face, followed by a quick spin to deliver a second blow to her side to send her off the beast's back.

Then he fled. Silently. Sneaky little shit. But only so two more men could emerge unseen from the forestry, one rushing her with a very large woodcutter's axe, sharpened and still stained a dry red from some previous victim.

And Friderick, who heard the commotion, turned from discussion about how to fix the two men's cart, when suddenly they grabbed at both his reins...and his hand as it tried to seize his sword. Both managed to drag him down, punching and kicking him. It was an ambush!
 
Jacqueline was hardly in a place to disagree with Friderick's plans even if she wanted to. Despite her being the mastermind of them it was Friderick who pulled the real strings. He had been right, she knew little of commerce and trade, of food stocks and storage. It wasn't something a lady was brought up knowing strongly. Managing a house versus an entire village, let along duchy or barony, was far more complex.

While Friderick took care of their tavern fees she readied their mounts. Everyone was well groomed, properly fed, and rested up for the trip. Well, the horses were perfectly rested up. The muscles in her face strained to bite back a flushing grin as the night filtered back into her mind. No, no there was work to be done. She couldn't let herself get too distracted. Not yet anyways. Assuming he didn't try to shut it down again, not that his efforts had been particularly valiant in that regard. Hers either if she was honest with herself.

The roads seemed quiet despite running across a few small groups of folk. Elderly, retired knight and some soldiers. Not entirely friendly folk but nothing that seemed much of a threat. Jacqueline stayed quiet to let Friderick handle the sales but she watched intently. It wasn't much but every morsel of information and knowledge could prove useful in the future. If she had any intentions to take over her father's duchy these were the things she would need to know. For the most part she made herself useful by doing more than her fare share of hauling things onto the cart. Friderick's training really payed off for that, she was able to lift far heavier barrels and satchels than she had assumed herself capable.

For a change the night was quiet and dignified, not entirely a very welcome change but they were far too close to the village. Besides, she knew Friderick was already giving plenty of himself with the whole scheme. It was hardly fair to expect more even if he seemed just as keen. She really needed to pray more anyways.

The villages grew more and more distant from one another, truly rural land. While it was pleasant and peaceful the lack of others on the roads meant they were utterly alone. Certainly good for somethings but not in an aspect of safety, burdened with a large cart they could be easy prey for a large band of brigands.

Jacqueline's red brows quirked at the distant cart. They had gone nearly a full day seeing no one and happened on an overturned cart on a quiet, desolate road. The fine hairs on her neck prickled as Friderick spoke. A hollow pit filled her gut. Perhaps she was just being silly. "Alright," she said with a sharp nod as he went off to investigate. Every muscle tightened as he rode off. The horses halted and Friderick away she was struck by the eerie silence. Even the wind seemed to hold it's breath with her.

'Hey.' The voice sent a jolt as fierce as any lightening through her. Her breath sucked in through her teeth in a startled gasp, her right hand jumping to her sword as her head whipped around. A boy, though one a bit older than her, had appeared from seemingly nowhere. Just some dirty, traveling boy. Breath rushed out in a relieved sigh. "You startled me," she said in a uneasy laugh. "No...no I am not a knight," she responded simply enough, casting her gaze back towards Friderick for a moment before looking back to the boy who had walked nearer.

"Your uncles? No...no we aren't here to hurt anyone," she said kindly. "Where are you from?" She asked back but the boy ignored her to ask about her horse. "Er....William....what is your name?" She tried again but once more the boy ignored. William shifted under her, nostrils flaring as the boy let him smell. "Hurt-" was all she managed to get out before the staff smashed into her face. Blood immediately flowed over her lips. Bloodied and stunned by the attack she didn't have the wherewithal to prevent the next.

White and sunbursts ruptured her vision. Distantly she felt a jarring of her body but it was deadened by the blurred ringing in her head. The strike had been true and sent her tumbling to the earth off of William. The horse whinnied in fright, rearing and pawing but didn't flee. Not until he saw the others rush out from the bushes. With another shrieking whinny of fright he pranced back and away, out of reached but far enough from the attackers. Meanwhile Jacqueline could barely grasp her bearings, the world somehow dim and bright, sharp and blurred all at once. She just barely managed to roll out of the way of the axe and fumbled her sword out of its scabbard.

Her vision was clearing as a second attack was coming, it was all she could do to dodge again, rolling herself under the cart and to the other side. Using the cart she hauled herself up, shaking her head to clear out the dizzyness. Distantly she could hear commotion from the distance. It sounded like Friderick was in trouble too. The men were coming around the cart, yelling and swinging their weapons. Nothing elegant or skilled, not even for a forester. "Stop this," she rumbled out, turning to dodge one weapon and knocking the other back with her sword. The fear of death, the taste of her own blood on her tongue, the stink of the attackers seemed to help clear her head more and more. If Friderick needed her help she had to get out of there.

Another swing, she turned and swung her sword as hard as she could. The haft of the large axe and the end bits of the man's fingers severed under the weight of her steel. The man shrieked in pain and Jacqueline took the moment she drive the point into his belly. The other jumped in to attack while her sword sunk into the other man. She turned and yanked her sword free with a squelching, sucking noise. While avoiding a killing blow the edge of the weapon caught the back of her shoulder. Jacqueline's shout of pain was hardly becoming of a young man. The yell high enough to give the attack paused with the pitch. Enough of a pause she turned and buried the edge of her sword into his neck. The man gulped and gurgled in surprise before collapsing.

Her back was on fire from the slicing wound, the shirt turning wet and red. Never mind, Friderick was in trouble. She whistled William over and haphazardly mounted, barely even in the saddle before urging him over. It was certainly not graceful, ungainly at best, but it was quicker than running on her own. Jacqueline let go to allow William to plow just barely past them, narrowly avoiding trampling Friderick.
 
Just a band of forest brigands. No way they could ever hope to take on a knight head on. Even their weapons, an allotment of farming tools and weapons, could barely even scratch or dent his breastplate head on. But they seemed to understand their disadvantage. They weren’t interested in a fair combat. They weren’t even interested in combat. Men grabbed him either side and proceeded to drag him down off his horse, yet not off his feet, wrestling and grappling with him, two of their hands to each one of his. Another tried to grab at his sword. All they had to do was keep him out of the fight. And big and strong as he was, Friderick could not fight a pile of three or four men off of him with physical strength alone.

Wingfoot reared and jumped back from the squabble, though remaining ignored by the attackers. He knew not what to do, however. Usually he went into battle with Friderick, but never by himself. It was too much for him.

But Friderick was determined to try. Boots sinking into the mud of the road, gritting his teeth, snarling, even roaring, he tried to fight back, tried to wrench his arms free or pull and yank himself out of the grip. Once or twice he did, but always there was a new opponent, fresh and energetic, to his dwindling strength. A knife bounced off his neck coif at the back of his head. That really spiked a lance of fear into his heart. That could have killed him! “Bastard.” He swore uncharacteristically. Honour be damned. A feral sense took over him and he started to do anything to win. He elbowed groins. He stabbed his fingers into soft eye sockets. He kicked and lashed out with his legs like a scared horse. The image wasn’t that far off. Where was Jacqueline? He was not in need of her help, but feared she would need his help. If they discovered her identity, or even guessed that she was female…well, terrible things happened to women after battles and raids. He couldn’t let that happen.

Still struggling to break free, it seemed as if the tipping point had been reached, when these unarmoured brigands would finally overcome him by the sheer weight of their combined mass, throwing him to the ground, where it would be easy to beat and stab him to death. And then suddenly, as a thick blur whizzed by, the sudden pressure and weight on one side was relieved, as William caught one attacker in his shoulder and blew him to the ground. One hand free, Friderick began to wail on and punch the other two, breaking one’s nose with a very audible crunch and the other staggering back by the blow. Then, with an echoing ring, he drew his longsword, gripping two handed, and prepared to split the attackers in two.

They…grabbed one another and fled, seeing those who tried to attack the boy had been killed already. They lost all advantage. No point in dying. They ran for their lives into the thick woods.

Friderick though was furious, hissing and heaving, wanting to cut something. There was one man left, the one William knocked over, groaning and crawling away. He was just getting up onto his knees when Friderick came behind, raising his sword high, and plunging it down through his back and out through his chest, the point piercing into the soft ground beneath. The brigand gave a soft sigh and slumped, at first anchored with a good several inches of the blade visible between his chest and the ground, then he sank down flat. Friderick yanked his blade out and whipped it on the dead man’s back.

“Squire- Jacqueline.” Friderick huffed, not facing her yet, unaware of her wounds, but eyeing the woods, expecting another round of ambushers. His sword was held defensively. He couldn’t see where Jacqueline was. He was feeling her presence out with his voice. “Jacqueline, you see anything? Call your horse. Get mine. I’ll cover the rear. Go-“ he was ordering briskly when he turned and saw her struggling. His face instantly fell, all rage and fury wiped, as he rushed and put his arm around her. “Are you okay? God.” He cursed, his eyes wide with shock as he looked her over. “Here, go. You get on Wingfoot. I’ll get William and come behind. Go to the wagon. We have to race through to the next village. The last…they sold us out. I know it.” Friderick said, helping Jacqueline to Wingfoot and helping her mount.

The woods were still clear, but the adrenaline was rushing. They could be back any second! It was still a battle ground. He slapped his horse’s rear to get them moving. He would attend her injuries somewhere safer. He just needed her away. He rushed to William and found the beast at least cooperate to him, allowing him to mount and race back. A little ungainly, but he made it. And with the wagon, they could race forward and put some distance between them.

“Tether Wingfoot to the bench and get in the wagon. I’ll come look at your wounds.” He ordered her and soon with all three horses, Wingfoot, Willian, and their pack animal, the wagon could make good speed while Friderick dismounted and then raced along behind, to jump up and clamber into the back of the cart. “You slaughtered them. Well done. I’m almost jealous.” He said, his own desire for vengeance not having been sated. Had they taken him down, they could have easily overpowered Jacqueline. He might be dead. She might be a plaything. But she broke free and saved the day. Because she was brave and capable, and nothing to do with her sex, right? “Undress.” He ordered her, as he pulled out what little healing supplies they had. Not fully undressed, but where she was hurt. They had to be quick. Didn’t want some innocent traveler to see them now.
 
The dismount was ungainly but Jacqueline kept her feet, sword still clutched in hand but grew heavy from the stinging fire in her back. William only managed to plow down one attacker but it was enough. Her lips stretched to a grin as Friderick took the window of opportunity with full force. His response swift and violent to his attackers until he could draw his sword. Then they just...fled. The moment cold steel bared they turned tail and ran. All except one poor soul. Jacqueline couldn't feel any sympathy for the man as Friderick bared down on him, sticking his sword straight through the man like a pig for a spit.

It was over. Jacqueline huffed a tired sigh, the rush of fear and fight was ebbing. The stinging in her back seemed to double and her limbs shook. Tired, very tired all of a sudden. Friderick seemed ready for a fight still, staring into the woods as if expecting more to suddenly bear down on them. "Here," she called back at his shout for her. Squire Jacqueline, that had an odd ring to it. His barked orders she moved to obey but halted when he turned, the mad fury disappeared than spring snow. But a few urgent steps and an arm was around her, seeing the red wetness on her back, staining the shirt and tunic. "I'm..." she started but his sudden and worried command overrode any attempt to brush off the issue. She knew the wound was bad, not life threatening but not so easy stoppered as her bloodied nose.

Friderick was plenty strong enough to heft her right up onto Wingfoot. Funny, she realized she'd never rode the charger before. She was barely set when Friderick slapped the horse's flank and they took off back to the wagon. The pack horse had remained steadily there, old enough to not spook and try to flee. The two dead men lay in pools of their own blood. Jacqueline slipped off Winfoot and Friderick was hot on their heels. His order gave her a moment of pause, a small tilt of the head, but she wasn't in much position or spirit to argue. She did as he bid, taking care to clean her sword off before hopping up on the wagon. They were quick to be on the move, the pack horse following the cart path obediently as Friderick jogged along a moment before skillfully hopping in the wagon with her. She gave him a very small smirk at the athletics, "show off."

Jacqueline gave a small snort at the mild praise and jealousy. "Don't be too jealous, I got lucky," she admitted. Really lucky. The strikes from the boy could have knocked her fully unconscious then it would have been a real short fight. His command to undress brought a raised brow. "In the middle of the road, you are growing brazen," she teased even as she unbuckled her belt. Pulling up the tunic and shirt was a trial, her right arm didn't want to raise up so she had to lean forward and wriggle the clothes off. Though she kept her arms in the sleeves, holding the shirt and tunic at her front. Her back was exposed but her chest remained covered. Any passerby might still think her a boy unless they paid close attention. While her back was strong and honed from Friderick's training the dips in her sides above round hips and bottom could easily give everything away.

The bandagings she used to press her breasts down was nearly cut in half from the slicing wound. A deep but short gash right over her right scapula laid open to the bone. It would certainly need stitching. She pressed her sleeve to her nose, wiping away the smears of blood and attempting to stopper the flow, pinching the bridge. "Bad?" She asked with a glance over her shoulder. It hurt bad enough that was for sure and certain but she was trying to act like it didn't bother her. Hopefully doing a passable job. Friderick seemed worried enough about it, no need to lay it on harder. Besides, if she acted like a baby about it he might change his mind about the whole affair.

"You said the village sold us out....why would they do that?" She questioned. If he was going to try and sew it up with the rock and sway of the wagon she needed to talk to keep her mind off it. Sewing flesh was a bad enough task, the motion would only make it worse. She'd never had to be sewn up before but it couldn't be as bad as the throbbing, stinging, burn of the wound right? "We gave them plenty of coin for the supplies. Suppose stealing them back makes double profit." If that were the case it was a sad shame. Luckily the wagon was close to full and they could make their way back to the monastery before too long. First step was getting to the next village in one piece.
 
“It’s not luck, it was your training and discipline.” Friderick corrected Jacqueline when she tried to play it off as luck. Sure, sometimes odd little factors played in like that, like how he was unlucky enough to walk into a brigand ambush. But what was he to do, close himself off from the world and never do a good deed again because of one bad incident? Why be a knight then? “It’s not a game.” He sternly chided her when she teased him about undressing. On the road. “You want it to become infected and worse? Hurry up.” He urged her. He was not being cruel but rather overly concerned. She was too young and too fair to risk losing a limb or her life to real bad luck like that.

He was quick though and there was no carnal intentions in the slightest. “Keep an eye on the road.” He said, examining the wounds with a frown as she finally exposed them. Not good. She did get lucky. A closer blow would have killed her for sure. It was a pain for her too, indicating further bruising and injury that was not as visible as the gash on her back. Her breast-cloth was ruined. She would have to replace that. Finding a bit of clean garment from his own pack, he tore off some strips and drenched it with drinking water, hurriedly cleaning around the cut, before finding some medical ointment to, quite painfully, rub across the cut. It would help with closing it and preventing infection.

But it would sting. Oh would it sting. Wait until the adrenaline wore off.

He couldn’t stitch it here though. Not on a bumpy wagon ride. He would probably do more damage to her. He did pull away the strip that held her breasts down. It was ruined and would only make her uncomfortable. They could replace it when they made camp. He jumbled it up and tossed the bloody, cut rag off to the side of the road. “You’ll feel the worst of it tomorrow. But you should survive. I’ll stitch it proper when we make camp, somewhere far away. Sit down now and don’t move around too much. Dress yourself.” He told her, patting her shoulder and giving it a squeeze encouragingly. She had indeed done well for herself in a pinch like that. Better than him.

“You answer your own question there. But unless we go back and ask them point blank, we’ll never know. I have no fancy of going back there.” Friderick said a little angrily. “I suppose you can’t blame them. They were not very rich or well off. I doubt their local Lord cares for them. Winter is coming. Like your monastery, they are probably low on supplies. Stealing from us would allow them to double up. It can’t be helped. They will have to find other ways to survive the winter.” Friderick then added, in a low voice, surprisingly empathetic to the villagers if they really were behind. In any case, he was glad to leave it behind.

The brigands and the village that backed them, if they did, were indeed poor. He had not noted any horses beyond slow, weak pack horses so it was unlikely they would catch up to Friderick and Jacqueline, with their wagon pulled by two horses and one spare. They made great distance. He had Jacqueline wait with the wagon while he took Wingfoot and scouted the local terrain around dusk, eventually finding a nice, wooded clearing not far from the road where the wagon could be brought down.

“You, stay.” He ordered Jacqueline briskly. “Or sit, by the fire. Do nothing that strains your back or arm.” Which was…everything. So like before, when he was still treating her like a Lady, Friderick set up the camp by himself. The tent, the fire, the cooking gear, all of it. It wasn’t her fault this time. She was injured! But he did it in record time. “Now, get undressed again. I will stitch you up and it’s going to hurt. I have some wine here. And something for you to bite on.” He said, pulling out his knife and indicating the strong hilt.

The birds and crickets were loud, which was usually a good indication of the lack of human activity around. The fire blazed brightly, covered by the thick woods of this patch of wilderness. The horses were tethered. Armour, gear, swords, were stacked to one side. And Friderick had Jacqueline sit on a small crate before the fire while he knelt behind her, stitching her up. He was no dress maker or surgeon. It was slow. It was arduous. He was doing it right as he only wanted to do it once.

But like the ointment…it was going to hurt. Bad.

He let Jacqueline drink liberally from the wine. It might make her drunk, but number to the pain. This time, even by the glow of fire in front of her and low moonlight behind, he could see very in-depth the tendons of muscle in her back and shoulders. God he wanted to kiss her all over. “The nuns will have to look at it again. What ever will they say about this?” Friderick sighed, shaking his head and expecting a fierce debate with the Mother Superior about allowing women to pursue knightly roles. Especially someone destined to rule a Duchy like Lady Jacqueline. “Is this your first real scar? The back ones are troublesome. People will assume you got cut trying to run away. It can’t be helped. I know you were brave but others…well who cares what others think. That’s been the motto of your life, I guess.” Friderick said, laughing lightly as he finished up his work.

He slapped the side of her hip. “All done. But no sparring or work for three days, just to be sure it has time to heal.” He added in his stern knightly voice again. Not because she was a Lady though! They were past that. This was the real deal. Battle injury.
 
Jacqueline held as still as she could on the bumping sway of the cart to let Friderick examine the would. She smirked to herself behind the bloodied sleeve of her shirt with his arguments and chiding. Well she felt quite lucky she had regained enough sense to fight off the attackers. Of course, Friderick wasn't likely to know about the bashing from the boy and his staff. Also quite lucky the axe had only grazed her rather than sunk into flesh as bone. Her body jerked as Friderick laid hands near the wound, cleaning off the blood as best as he could with a bit of ripped up shirt. Jacqueline cringed and clenched her teeth. She swallowed a squeal of pain as he rubbed ointment into the gash, the sound reverberating in her throat. Adrenaline or not it hurt like hell fire, stinging and burning as if the devil himself had laid hands on her.

"I cannot wait," she said dryly. If that was bad the stitching had to be worse. She had stitched up a wound for him once, turn about was fair play was it not? Of course she remembered how calm and stoic he had been during the ordeal. Well she would just have to do her best to swallow the wounded cries. She couldn't very well keep convincing him she could live this life if she whined and cried with every scratch, right?

As he went on to speak of the villages a small frown creased her brow. He seemed angry with them and yet, strangely, empathetic to their plight. Jacqueline glanced over at Friderick. They had not talked in length about the affairs of his estate but she had gathered enough information to confirm things were not well for his people. What a burden to bear. Granted lands that could barely be farmed, salt of the earth sickening crops to poor harvest. Lancaster flourished, its people healthy and hearty, the lands rich and plentiful. She desperately wished there was something she could do to help him but was also painfully aware he wasn't keen on charity. More insult than favor really. Pondering the realities of other lands at least distracted her from the searing ache in her back, partially anyways.

It seemed an age until Friderick mounted Wingfoot to find a place to camp. The jostling and jolting from the cart was doing her back no favors. She waited alone with the wagon, feeling more vulnerable than ever with her injured back. While she'd never openly admit it she hefted a relieved sigh when Friderick returned. No wonder folk, namely women, with no martial prowess allowed themselves to be so ruled by men. Being unable to fight left one keenly weak and it troubled her to think she had to rely on someone else, even Friderick, for protection. The wagon creaked and squealed to motion once more, trundling down to the clearing.

Jacqueline stared at Friderick, momentarily ready to argue she could help set up but thought better of it. It was a trial to push aside her own pride and let him get on with doing everything. He was right though, until the wound was sewn and on the mend she would do herself more harm than good if she pushed too hard. So she simply gave him a stiff nod and did as he bid her to do. Despite a childhood of comfort and servants it sank like a knife in the gut to watch Friderick do everything to set up the camp. He rushed about, perhaps setting a record for quickest camp creation, doing everything she would normally do herself. Of course, she was in no rush to have a needle repeatedly jabbed through her skin.

"Somehow it feels unusual to undress in front of you...your habit is to happen on me already nude," she said with a small, forcibly amused chuff. The small joke did little to be rid of her nerves especially when he handed her the knife and skin of wine. There were more jokes for the wine but they dried on her tongue as she gingerly pulled her shirt up and over her head. Modesty held no sway any longer and she fulled removed the torn and bloodied shirt, tossing it off nearby. With a long, huffing, sigh she raised the wine skin and took a long drink from it. If only it could work instantly. There were certain herb combinations that would be better, send the wounded off to sleep. A dangerous mixture though, the smallest error and the sleeper might never wake. She had not studied herb lore sufficiently enough to ever consider making such a draught herself.

Jacqueline sat herself on the crate and took another drink from the skin before setting it aside and placing the handle of the knife between her teeth. The tang of metal, leather, and sweat lay sharply on her tongue. She jumped when feeling Friderick's hands on her back, uttering a muffled apology. Hold still. Her eyes screwed shut as she waited for that first pierce. It came with a cold, sharp, sting and a high sort of whistling exhale through her nose. A curse was uttered between teeth and hilt. The feel of thread sliding through her flesh made her nauseous. Her breath came in erratic huffs, sharp sometimes and forced slowing. She tried valiantly to stay quiet as he went to work. He tried chatting with her. She huffed a small snort at him, his comments about the thoughts others had on back wounds. Wether the wine took some effect or she grew accustomed to the rhythmic stab and pull of needle and thread she relaxed a little, her breathing at least evening out.

A thousand years passed and it was done. The slap to her and conformation grated a long and relieved groaning sigh. She unworked her teeth from deep in the leathered hilt and set it aside. Her back still screamed from the added abuse but her mind, addled from the stress and wine, didn't register it so strongly any more. "Three days shall be an eternity," she grumbled even if he was right. If she was her own patient she might demand more but three days of rest would be torture.

Suddenly, as if perhaps she had passed out, Jacqueline leaned back. She twisted just a little to let her head and left shoulder collide with Friderick's chest. Her face was a bit paler than usual, eyes closed, sweat glistening around her hairline and upper lip. Leaned back far enough Friderick was granted a fine view of her naked torso, chest rising and falling with steadying breaths, illuminated by the crackling fire. "Others might judge such a scar but I do not intend for a great many others to see it," she said slowly, the wine making it hard to keep her thoughts and tongue in perfect sync. "Besides, I do not care what others think of me...with the exception of one," she said as her eyes opened again to look up at him.

Never mind the shrill pain in her back. Her heart gave a little flutter as she looked up at him, that familiar pinch low in her gut. Later she could simply blame the effects of wine. Her left arm lifted, curling back to rest her hand on his neck and pull him closer as she lifted her head. She pressed her lips to his. Not the quick, questioning kisses she had given before. It was hard and passionate, holding no quarter for wounds or the bonds of decency. Nothing held back, her tongue flicking against his lips for an entirely different sort of sparring. Her fingers played lightly against the back of his neck and with the curls of his hair.
 
Somehow it feels unusual to undress in front of you...your habit is to happen on me already nude. The joke was entirely lost on Friderick, the Baron of Alnerwick. While it may be true, and did conjure up some vivid memories, he banished such notions from his mind as he worked on her stitching. If he didn’t get this right, if God was not with them, there might not be another opportunity to catch her naked again. And enjoy the fruits of that. Already in too deep, having done the deed, there was no notion in his mind either that it was wrong or inappropriate. Not anymore. The opposite in fact. It was the only thing he craved and all his thoughts, deeds, and purposes seemed geared towards that end. He cared for her now, with deep affection and fondness. He had to keep her alive, for his sake as much as hers.

Nevertheless, three days of forced rest was the plan. Did that include love making as well? He could be quite vigorous. It never once crossed his mind that it could be gentle and slow. When his passions burned that hot for her, it only seemed right that it should be a feral, instinctive thing, raw and primal in fashion and mode. “That is…true.” He did acquiesce to the comment that few would even be seeing her wound. In fact that was probably for the better. And he did agree that what others opinions were should matter little, though one couldn’t live an entirely successful life on that policy, requiring repute to move up in the world. She did hint that she cared only about one person’s opinion and her gem-like blue eyes turned to look up at him, indicating just who she meant.

Friderick felt a sudden shyness at that. Her beauty was great, even half disguised in man-form. She had a great noble pedigree and was a prodigy in the knightly arts. To have such capability under his tutelage and committed to his approval, it was astonishing and benumbing sometimes. She was his. All his. Friderick offered up a slight smile at her praise, peering down at her, but seemingly paralyzed in place by her bedazzling look. He didn’t realize what she intended as she suddenly shifted towards him, arm wrapping around his neck, pulling him down to meet her lips. He didn’t resist, letting her little hands and lips guide him to this end. He kissed her back, hands on her sides, holding her firm and steady as their mouths mashed together. Tongues danced and swirled, passionately, madly, and Friderick became lost in the moment.

It was dark. The fire crackled warmly nearby. The horses were still and quiet. And all around, the nightlife of the forest chirped along without a care for them. Yes, nobody in the world knew about them and their secret, that she was no boy, and that she broke every rule as a girl to strive to be a squire and knight. He didn’t care either. He kissed her, hands moving around her torso, up her taut abdomen, cupping both her breasts in his large, warm, rough palms. He squeezed them even as he forced his tongue deeper down her mouth, entirely in control. His passion flared and so did his desire. He was hard. He wanted it.

But he knew…it might not be conducive given her injury.

As the need for breath grew, eventually Friderick pulled apart and gave a chuckle, smiling down at her seated in front of him. “What part of no work for three days did you not understand? I’m…going to split and spear you in two if we continue down this path tonight.” He said, but his tone was teasing, not stern or authoritative. He didn’t think this was wrong, but he was concerned for her injuries and hurt. Standing up, he began to do a little undressing himself, placing aside his tunic and belt, until he remained only in his trousers, once more shirtless as he often went before slumber. Or prelude to sex. They were both partially nude now but not for long. He stood her up and bent down to engulf her in a kiss and intimate embrace, hands careful as they went down her back…and began to slip her own trousers down her strong, feminine legs.

He remained in his trousers, cock covered, though bulging quite significantly at the front. He had no intentions of bringing it out. He wanted to, but knew he shouldn’t, since Jacqueline in her state might not survive the vigorous pounding he liked to give her. They would have to settle for other things. Once he had Jacqueline completely stripped, he began kissing her again, standing to her side, one hand on her rear, squeezing her ass, while the other slipped down her front, gliding in over her sex. Gently, he caressed a long finger over her slit. Her wound was cleaned and bandaged, but a rigorous bump could upset it all.

After a few moments of gentle touching, he slipped his finger into her sex, wiggling in deep, in and out in a fluid motion, as he continued to explore her mouth with his tongue. They stood, naked, by the fire, bathed in its warm glow. They had survived an ambush, but they were still alive and together, and that was all that mattered.
 
And he had said no sparring. Jacqueline grinned into the long, deep kiss. Tongue twirled and danced, sparring madly in the night. Jacqueline shivered in delight with Friderick's rough, strong hands roving her torso. Oh she enjoyed the feel of them, hard and calloused from such a life. While she had no basis for comparison she was certain it was preferable to soft, manicured hands of some effeminate lordling. Little sounds of enjoyment rumbled into the kiss as his hands grasped her breasts and his tongue took full control of their match. Nothing else mattered but the feel, the smell, the taste of him. Her heart fluttered, giddy and delighted even as a more primal need stirred deep in her gut. Selfish perhaps but she couldn't help the need of more from him, in turn she'd give him all of her.

A tiny noise of discontent sounded in her throat as he pulled away and chuckled down at her. Jacqueline's face was flushed, only brighter due to the wine coursing her veins, her eyes bright as she looked up at him. It wasn't often she got to see such a soft expression from him. It was infectious and she found herself smiling up at him through his teasing. "I have little regard for authority, you know this," she replied with a snicker. As he rose to his feet she sat herself back up on the crate, unabashedly watching as Friderick began to disrobe. If he truly was putting an end to anything that night he was going about it in a painfully cruel manner. How dare he tease her so? Of course she had been the one to light those fires.

The encroaching, teasing disappointment was quickly wiped away as he hefted her to her feet. She barely caught her balance before his lips collided with her again for a second round of battle. A muffled, sighing, huff of approval rushed out of her nose, her left arm snaking around his shoulders. Given the circumstances she let her right arm rest, propped up and pinned between their bodies. That didn't mean her fingers still didn't dance and play against the warm, silky iron of his body where they could reach. She noted how careful he was as his hands ran down her back right to her trousers. Red brows rose as he pushed and slid them down, having to break the kiss a moment to be rid of them entirely. One step, two steps and they were gone leaving her stark naked in their private little clearing.

His body nearly enveloped hers, standing to her side and reclaiming her lips. She still had her left arm hooked around his shoulders, just barely given their height disparities. There was warmth, comfort, delight in being held so easily. A low, throaty moan reverberated in her chest with the descent of his hand between her legs. Hard on the heels a delighted gasp as lightening raced her body with the first dance of his fingers across her sex. The grip around his neck doubled as her legs gave a small wobble as if suddenly forgetting how to stand. His touch was so gentle, so at odds with his size and anything they had done before. Lord but it set a hot blaze across her flesh.

Even before he sank his fingers in her body responded to the touches like never before. Nails scraped the back of his neck, her breath quickening needing more frequent breaks from his lips. It didn't take long for his fingers to grow slick and soaked from his attentions to her; her breasts tight and nipples hard. Jacqueline's right arm slid down, unaware of his desire to constrain himself, to brush the front of his trouser. Want or not she felt the hardness below the cloth knowing full well he wanted far more as well. Trepidations pushed aside she laid a hand on his wrist and pressed his hand away from between her legs. She had an idea that, perhaps, would suit them both.

With pressure from her left hand she coaxed Friderick down to the grass. Once he got the idea of what she wanted she followed to lay her body over him as she had at the inn. Given her smaller size she made for quite the poor blanket. Draped over his body she gave a few more small, gentle, kisses before sliding back towards his thighs. Her little fingers were quick to undo the lacings of his trousers to free him from their confines. She wasted no time, her fingers brushed his erect shaft as she slid forward and raised her hips up. The effort was slow as she took him into her body from above, stretching to accommodate the generous size of him. Her back arched as she slid down him, inch by inch, until their hips collided. Jacqueline released a long, slow breath, letting herself rest a moment, feeling her insides shift around him. New of course she wasn't fully prepared for what to do but imagined it little different than the motions of riding a horse. Her hips rolled and shifted, easing him in and out of her. Jacqueline hissed in appreciation of the feeling, letting the sensations guided her on, faster and deeper. She let her right arm rest on his hip, the left splayed across the impressive plane of his taught stomach.
 
It was astonishing how much lust and sexual need could be emitted from someone so small and petite. Jacqueline had a hungry fire to her that even Friderick, tall and muscular as he was, found hard to contain sometimes. His lips and tongue easily engulfed hers, yet hers fought on with a passion. He dug his finger into her depths, soon concealing his own hiss in the depths of his throat when Jacqueline pinched and grabbed so desperately at the back of his head and neck. They were but small concerns and thoughts however. And a step above his former hesitation at indulging in this act with her. But like before, as the act went on, such concerns were washed away, almost quite literally, by the reactions of her body.

It was all for him. This little minx, this daughter of a duke, destined to be one herself, so fair and beautiful in a way, and yet so strong and capable. And all these concoctions and desire, she output just for him. For Friderick, the destitute Baron, and he knew he had something special in his hands. While between them, there was an explosion of sensation and reaction, kissing, muffled moaning, and the soft grinding of bodies and fingers, it was indeed rather quiet and surreal all about them. The fire crackled, then night wind was low, and the night critters continued their endless orchestra into the night. And none of it mattered compared to the taste of her lips and the tight warmth between her legs, which his finger continued to graze and caressed, thinking it might sate her need.

All his warnings seemed forgotten by the student as she suddenly ceased the action and began to move him. Puzzlement and confusion were writ on his face yet Friderick did not protest, perhaps thinking she wished to shift downwards so as to be more comfortable in regard to her wound. He was incorrect. Instead the little vixen of a lady and squire intended to undo all his diligent stitching and commands to rest as she clambered atop his prone form. Not that he could resist, rough hands moving to her slender sides, caressing her flesh, as she kissed her way down his body and physique, until she was before the very thing that could complete her intentions. His cock. It would spring out hard and erect, already thick with need, and throbbing with desire for release. Who was he kidding?

She took hold of it and that was enough to make him shiver with anticipation, watching her under studded eyebrows as she raised up…and sank down upon it. So wet, so fluidly, it felt as if it had been made and designed for such a union by the heavens itself. He sighed quite audibly as he filled her up, watching her form react like a well trained dancer, knowing just how good it was going to feel, but how dangerous it could be given her injuries. She’s drunk. And quite needy. Someone has to be the adult. At first he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Up she went, a cool kiss of air surrounding his cock, begging for her to return, before she did. On and on she would go, bouncing or riding, any little motion sending spikes of pleasure up through his groin. The thousand pricks of grass on his bare flesh didn’t even register. It was all her.

But she hissed, and he misunderstood it to be pain, and not the good kind of pain that came from being stretched out so perfectly. “Wait…wait…!” Friderick huffed, hands tightening on her sides, with enough force to still her very actions. If she was hurting…but still needy…there were other ways. His finger might be dull, his cock might be too much, but there was a middle ground. His hands slid up her sides to beneath her shoulders, where he gripped her, and even with his height and long limbs he could still alter her positioning as he pleased. He lurched her right off his cock, suffering the absence of her wet warmth, as he carried her somewhat forward to straddle his chest, just above his chiseled abdomen. He didn’t stop there. One more lurch and he brought her sex right over his face and mouth, where his tongue was ready to replace the organ that she craved.

Rude of her, to drink all the wine, and not leave him anything to taste. Eyes closed, with her sex bearing down his mouth, Friderick drove his tongue into her sex with vigorous and tireless diligence, hoping to persuade her from sheer sensation of the pleasure alone to control herself and not undo all his hard work in stitching her up. His hands still clutched her sides, keeping her pinned in place, not letting her move or even sway or lean. Her hips, her womanhood, were glued to his mouth, and he kissed, nibbled, and drew all sorts of images with his tongue upon her pink canvas and its wet interior. He drank her essence eagerly, coaxing with flicks of his tongue, or rolls, or quick circular motions that lapped up every drop available.

He could suffer a wait to get his. Jacqueline had performed bravely today. She deserved this. And hopefully gave her a climax so powerful she wouldn’t have the strength to do much more. In the meantime, with his jaw unhinged and his tongue drilling, helped by the pull of gravity on her body, Friderick had to think of a way to give this little needy harpy a good romping that wouldn’t split her apart.
 
Jacqueline reveled in the sensation. Her legs were strong from riding and training, hardly tiring with the motions. The uncertainty of what to do melted away as she let the sensations of his body and the sounds she coaxed from him guided her. Blue eyes hooded her head canted back as she rolled her hips against his with every downstroke. It was wondrous to feel such control, near as much as the sheer sensations themselves. Jacqueline didn't have to try and quiet herself. Her voice joined in with the chorus of the surrounding woods, moans and hisses of delight mingling in the air.

The coarse, huffed commands and massive paws on her hips brought it all to a screeching stop. Jacqueline tilted her head back forward to look down at Friderick. The concern didn't entirely confuse her. Despite his usually gruff attitude he still worried over her like a mother hen. It was frustrating of course, she was not some delicate doll of porcelain! Then again, the little pang in her chest from his worry set little butterflies in her stomach. It was oh so sweet and oh so irritating. "Friderick I'm-" she began, trying to assuage his worries. She was cut off as he grabbed her and heaved her forward with the ease of pulling a roll of parchment closer to read. Her feet scrabbled in the grass as she shivered from being so suddenly pulled off of him with a wet sound. First plopped right onto his chest she looked down at him, her brows nearly touching with the deeply confused frown.

One more sudden lurch forward. Jacqueline thought he was going to toss her right off him. Her mouth opened to demand to know just what the hell he was doing. The planned, cross, tirade melted into a strangled cry as he drove his tongue right to her center. Both of her hands snapped to his arms as he held her captive over him, a short and sharp hiss sucked past her teeth as she disturbed the wound. Her right hand dropped to rest on her right thigh while her left hand dug deep into his forearm. She could hardly move he held her so firmly to him; not that she hardly noticed. Any thought or care to the sudden interruption and loss of control scattered faster than moths. Her head lolled back as he delved and stroked, igniting a fierce flame that lashed her blood. Even if she wanted to control her voice she couldn't think straight enough to even noticed the lewd sighs, hisses, and moans he coaxed out of her with the artful use of tongue and lips.

Her body felt entirely not her own, just a writhing mass of pleasure. It wanted to let go, release and drop like a forgotten toy. The hard grip of his hands didn't permit it though it might snap her in half. Her left hand slipped, landing on his chest to at least prop herself up. Little nails bit and dug into the hard expansive of his chest while her sighs and cries grew higher and higher. Suddenly as a summer rain her body seized up, her mind tossed into a blissful pool of warmth. A sharp, staccato cry skipped out of her throat as that sweet, pressured damn broke. From crown to toes her body lapsed into a fit of shivers from the hot, electric waves that slammed against her body, dissolving her into a weak, shivering mess.

Huffing and panting she worked her nails out of his chest, her arm shaking. The pleasured fog slowly cleared her mind with a tiredness in its wake. It was slow, difficult going, but she wriggled and pushed to get him to release her hips so she could scoot back, legs trembling, and lay on his chest. For a moment she simply reveled in it, feeling the tingles slowly ebb from her body. Her wits and energy gathered just enough to let her prop up on her left arm to looked down at him. A sweet, surprised, wonderous, and tired smile written plain across her face. She brushed her lips against his in a soft and gentle kiss, able to taste the tang of herself on him. There was no hurry in the kiss, no fierce meeting of teeth and tongues.

Jacqueline broke from the kiss with a content, happy sigh and nestled into his neck. For a quiet moment his machinations and victory might be fulfilled. "You do know, the second my strength comes back, this is not over. Right?" He tone was somehow sweet, teasing, and threatening all at once. "You've only yourself to blame with all your demands of training stamina." He didn't get long before her threat manifested. Keeping her right arm as still as possible she pushed up on her left to scooch back further and start with him where she lad left off. It wouldn't be fair for her to have such enjoyment and not him. Besides, it was clear he desired to be taken care of just as much with that hard, generous girth of his.
 
It was no effort to anchor Jacqueline in place, striding atop his mouth, feeling neither the pinch nor burden of her weight above him. Not her body, not her little hand pressing into his warm, throbbing chest, or the roll of her hips right on his face. Eyes closed, he made sweet, passionate love to her sex with his tongue and lips, as if he was kissing her direct, driving her to a glorious climax that was not long in the making. Her moans spiked and echoed in his ears and mind, a testament to his charms, and Friderick delighted in such sounds that he coaxed, dedicated only for him. As Jacqueline uplifted into a state of carnal bliss, he was once more reminded of what a special lover and companion he had, standards and norms be damned. This was far too electrifying to ever surrender.

Slowly she came down, though Friderick continued to lacerate and coax her sex for even more bountiful tributes. His mouth was coated with her taste, though he was feeling the ache in his jaw from such enthusiastic movements. Her warm sighs and whimpers of lust were his desire, endlessly, if he had his way. But this was only an appetizer and prelude to the main orchestra. It could not be withheld. She desired it, and he too wished to give it to her, his own concern and worry over her injured back passing from his mind as the carnal lust swelled within him, as his manhood did just at the sight of her nakedness. She shifted off and his hands let her slip, having but a second to lick his lips and relish in the aftertaste as she sprawled over him, her naked form pressed to his, sharing with him a soft, sweet kiss.

For a moment they lay there, together, under star light, on the bare grass, next to the fire, naked without a care. Such moments were to be cherished, especially in their chosen profession of knighthood. It could all end in a very short and sharp moment. Always stop to smell the roses. Or in this case, the scent of a lover. He pecked her brow lazily as he lay there, her next words belying the nature of their current kissing. “I know.” He answered, condoning her statement of this not being over. Vaguely, he smiled, knowing she perhaps anticipated a different answer and not outright acceptance of this truth that he used to fight against. He did have himself to blame. That is why he didn’t resist this time as she slid back to where they had started, making him shiver with delightful anticipation as she rubbed against his manhood. His hands could still reach to her sides and he took hold of her, but not to stop her.

“Slowly then, my Lady.” He said with the smile as evident in his tone as it was on his face, his eyes watching her under hooded lids as she got in position.

It took a grip, a strong thrust of his hips, and once more he sheathed himself inside his little Lady. He groaned into the air at the tight sensation of her orifice, feeling it consume and surround him in a way that was indescribable to his mind. His hands were still on her sides, locking her in place, but that place could be moved, which he demonstrated by raising her up, slowly, off his manhood, then down again, slowly, careful not to agitate or discomfort her back as he did so. When it seemed like there was no visible or evident pain, he did so again, and again, gently picking up the rhythm, thrusting her up, and then down, with a push of his hips off the grass to meet her folds in a soft smack of flesh. His legs braced on the grass, ankles digging into the ground to anchor himself so that he could spear upwards.

“Better? Okay?” Friderick would ask her, though his eyes seemed glued at her chest, watching those mounds shudder with each downward motion he manipulated upon her frame. Was the momentum of his thrust, even at such a controlled pace, too much for her body? He would take cues. If she thought he could go faster, he would, but not at the pace they did before. It was hard to believe this only began a week ago yet it felt as if his whole life had been deeply altered by it, that those days since had been entirely in a new existence or frame of mind. Everything else before seemed a dream, yet so was this, and he was living within it. The opposite of a nightmare.

The fire crackled and the night critters sang on, but his ears were for her alone. He liked the way she sounded when he filled her to the brim, feeling her so stretched, so wet, and once more coating a part of him in her essence as if marking him, the way he would soon be marking her. It was a primal thought to it that he enjoyed. Panting, muscles and body tense and flexed, there was soon a constant rhythm as he dove in and out of her, pumping her firmly, until the overwhelming pressure in his lower abdomen grew to a state too large for him to control. His own back arched, uplifting his hips and even Jacqueline upon them, just through his sheer strength as he began to release and climax himself. He gasped, thick offerings of his seed plunging into her depths, as the pleasure rode through him in tingly waves. Then he collapsed, breathing hard, hands falling to her thighs to clutch and hold, fingers digging into taut flesh.

“God…even done carefully…I am spent.” Friderick chuckled, twisting one hand behind his head to rest upon while the other trailed a finger up her abdomen, beholding her seated upon his waist and hips still. Beautiful. Simply put. He was not truly spent. He was still erect and hard within her, proof of his virility, and clearly capable of more. Shame she was wounded. But she was right. There would be other times. This was not over. Seemed fitting that fate should force a quick pause before they collapsed into that abyss of endless carnal pleasures, like some ancient despot of old.

“A bed is more preferable though, next time.” Friderick said, his finger tracing and outlining a pink little bud on a breast of hers. “This grass itches. A soft covering would be better for you too. And the sooner we get to one, the sooner you can fulfill your pledge of returning to this. And the only way it will come faster, is if we sleep sooner, and get on with the next day, and the day after, to complete your promise to the convent.” He suggested coyly instead, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively, knowing full well moving to the tent would result in another session, if just as slow, or carefully. But there was merit in also keeping an open mind to the future, and focusing on duty, given her state. He would rather have it all without shroud or restrictions then these required half measures, perhaps more impatient than his little Lady to get to it, if she could read between his words.
 
I know. Such a simple phrase but it sent a delighted tremor through her. His mind had changed completely, it seemed, as did hers. While little twinges of jealousy had plagued her with his adamant and ardent desire for lady featherbrain she had never considered such...breeches in conduct between them. What should she care about societal expectations anyways? It was far too enjoyable to be tossed away in such thin excuses. Jacqueline grinned at Friderick as she slid back down his body, reaching between them to guide him back into her body. His large, warm hands gripped her and she could feel the excited shudder course through him.

Blue eyes lifted to his as he called her 'my lady.' At first reaction her eyes twitched to a scowl. Back to the lady bit? It was short lived as the tone registered in her mind. It was...different, somehow. In a way she could hardly explain. Different enough she surprised herself to find she actually rather liked it. Not a simple title or note of deference. His lady. Jacqueline let the sentiment resound in her as she guided his generous length inside her, quickly sheathing with the help of his thrust. A long, sucking hiss of delight rushed past her teeth as she felt him, filling her completely. Once settled and stretched to near capacity his grip on her hips tightened and with his sheer strength lifted her up and pulled her back down. A glorious shudder raced across her flesh at the sensation. She didn't resist him as he hefted her body up and down on him. Slowly, gently his increased the pace, moving her body with the ease of lifting a sword. It was strange and tantalizing.

Jacqueline looked down to him as he questioned her comfort. If she could have formed words she might have gently ribbed his mother-hen attitude. Instead she just gave a short, chuffing sound that might have been a laugh but interrupted by a sighing moan. She was more than fine, the sting of the wound a distant memory compared to the feel of Friderick spearing her. Her toes dug into the soft grass as she tried to at least alleviate some of her weight for him with her legs. Her left hand gripped his forearm, the right resting on her thigh, leaving him an unimpeded view of the way her breasts bounced with the motion. He was taking it as slow as he could manage, pressing up into her as deep as possible with every pull down. She listened to his deep, growling grunts of pleasure, serenaded by the sounds of it, loving every note of the song he sang. His climax came with a sudden, hard press of his hips to hers. Jacqueline shivered feeling him twitch and pulse inside of her, a pleasing warmth spreading. Then the exhausted collapse, though he still had the strength to dig his large fingers into the soft flesh of her thighs.

She gave a soft, breathy laugh along with him, casting a soft gaze to him as he tucked a hand behind his head to look at her properly. Though it struck her as somewhat untrue. Inside her she could still feel him, full and hard. "It is no wonder, you did most the work," she said with another light laugh. The soft trail of his finger along her taut stomach to the pink bud on her breast made her shiver. She was certainly weary and yet still full of energy at the same time. Her brows rose as he went on. His coy remarks about a fine bed and soft covers in the future for such things made her grin in delight. She trailed her left hand along his arm until reaching his palm and laced her fingers with his. It was a hard stretch for such a little hand to grasp his. "I clearly make far too many promises," she said teasingly before planting a soft kiss on his knuckles. "But I concede, we need to get some rest."

Planting her feet she rose off of him, shuddering as he slid of out her. It was her turn to grab a rag to clean up before tossing him one to do so as well. There wasn't much call to worry about dressing if they were going to lay down for sleep. Jacqueline gathered up their haphazardly discarded clothing and took them to the erected tent to fold neatly and set aside. She brooked no objections to curl up with Friderick. For the time being they were alone, able to shed the illusion of boy squire and knight, and she would take absolute advantage of it. She was careful, of course, to lay on her left side and left her right arm rest comfortably on Frederick's stomach to take all weight off the injured shoulder.

Morning seemed to come far too quickly. Despite the comfort of Friderick and the exhaustion from battle, as well as their escapades, Jacqueline had found it difficult to sleep. The twinge of the wound seemed to double at rest. Their activities during the night had, at least, been a good distraction from the pain. Jacqueline grumbled as sun flooded into the tent. Injury or not there were things to be done. As per his orders she didn't force or overdo anything. She got the fire blazing once more to cook a meager breakfast and at least managed to get a bit of feed for the horses. All things she could do with one arm, letting her right arm simply rest at her side. She struggled to be idle if Friderick was doing any work and helped out where she could and Friderick allowed.

Just one more village to check for supplies before their borrowed cart was entirely full to the brim. Honestly Jacqueline was impressed with how quickly they had managed to fulfill their promise. The trick was getting the cart back to the convent in one piece. For the most part they had gone unmolested by brigands until that one day. With some luck they could make it back to the convent without any troubles. They would really need that luck as she was as useful as wet cheese for any sort of fight; she couldn't even draw a bow! Jacqueline certainly didn't care for feeling useless and helpless. Any mother-henning from Friderick didn't help and was usually met with grumbling ire, snapping comments, and general annoyance. Hard on the heels of her fiery little reactions were apologies. She knew he just cared about her wellbeing but pride was her cardinal sin. Of course, lust was quickly rising in the ranks.
 
It was quickly becoming a routine that he was enjoying, without any of the guilt or remorse. To awake next to Jacqueline, naked, their bodies pressing together by some unspoken subconscious need that they both shared, it was indescribable. Unlike her, Friderick had slept soundly, his body spent by the bouts of passionate love making, hardly as long as their rigorous training sessions, yet all the more exhausting somehow. There was a certain peacefulness in the quiet comfort of waking together. She prepped breakfast, he broke camp, and the uneasy agreement about Jacqueline staying off strenuous activity seemed to hold for the most part. Snarky remarks were met with stern, uncompromising stares. Apologies were met with hair ruffles or shoulder squeezes. He knew it was hard for her. The more she suffered this forced idleness, the sooner they could get back to their sport.

Fortunately, the reminder of their trip was uneventful. The first snows fell, softly, and dried up within a few hours. The next village had the usual set of suspicion, but coin brought familiarity and trust, and soon their wagon was loaded (without Jacqueline’s assistance) with the last of their required goods. “Grain, barley, oats, and numerous lentils. I haven’t even seen half these colours.” Friderick remarked, stepping gingerly across the wagons, counting and measuring in his mind each bag. “Acquired for the convent, then redistributed to the needy and poor during the winter months. It’s dull and boring, I know,” he pointed out, seating himself at the driver’s bench on the cart, next to his squire, “but true knight’s work, to escort and deliver such salvation. We’ll never be thanked for it, you know.” He said and cast a glance at Jacqueline to see how she might take that.

“You don’t become a knight for the praise or applause. Well, that’s what tournaments are for. But work like this, true work, it’s how you learn virtue and to become a better person. No, I’m not just rehashing church lectures to you. It works. You might be too young to see why. Maybe when you’re older. And a Duchess in your own right.” He said, before realizing they weren’t even out of the village. “Duke. When you become a Duke.” He said with raised eyebrows. Nobody heard them, but it was a slip up they couldn’t afford. Friderick took the reins and got them driving, Wingfoot and the pack mule pulling, with William on a break, trailing behind, tethered to the cart. Soon they were off in the wilds.

“When winter comes, travel will become difficult. I’m thinking we should hit up one of the major towns. Icedrift, to the north. Or Pearlpoint or Grasshelm, further south. Pearlpoint sounds nice. No, there aren’t any pearls. Divers over harvested that decades ago. But it’s a decent sized town. Hundred thousand people they say. Can find lodgings and decent work in the city to keep us afloat and sheltered. Hopefully even get in good with the local stables. Get some decent grounds where we can begin your training with the lance and joust.” Friderick said and again gave her a glance, hoping to see excitement at that prospect in her. That’s how one won the big tournament competitions. That shield of hers was nice, but a small rose was hardly a badge of merit, winning a melee fight. The larger roses that he had were the true trophies. And he swore she would have one before she graduated from squire to knight. Like a true prodigy. Better than he ever did. Wasn’t that the true goal of a mentor?

“Unless you have some other notion, my Lady?” Friderick asked after a brief glance around, but there were only the woods now, and his teasing use of her title was acceptable. Was he really asking her opinion or seeking validation for his own plans?

“Look, I can see the convent spire in the distance. Should be there before nightfall. They…can attend to your wound more diligently and better. A battlefield surgery was hardly sufficient for long term recovery. I just hope you aren’t infected or anything. They will determine it.” Friderick also pointed out, before giving her a stare. “And you will cooperate with them, my Lady. Is that clear?”
 
Jacqueline couldn't help but be impressed with Friderick's negotiating skills. It wasn't a skill often taught to women, despite it being women who ran households. They would sent men out to acquire the necessary goods, not go themselves. Boys from the village helped load the wagon and she couldn't help but notice looks in her direction. Too pompous of a little lord to be helping. Her left hand clenched and unclenched as the wagon was loaded up, full to the brim with precious provisions that Friderick meticulously counted. She was careful to keep her right arm still, often resting on her legs on an edge of the wagon. Turning back around she slid over on the bench to allow for Friderick's imposing frame to settle in the driver's seat. His comment about it being dull and boring was met with a cheeky grimace. Counting beans and oats wasn't exciting, to be sure, but she couldn't say it was so terribly dull. The view of Friderick handling such matters was certainly a plus.

Her brows raised, however, as he led himself into another nattering lecture. She caught his glance over to her; her own expression of exasperated annoyance clear on her face. Lord above she was lectured less by her own mother. The expression rapidly changed to frightened shock with his slip of the tongue. Her eyes darted around, only relieved when she noted no one was within earshot of the slip. Jacqueline huffed a sigh of relief and shook her head with a light laugh. "Sometimes I believe you think the worst of me," she said with a teasing grin. "Like some horrid tyrant, bent on rape a pillage of every farmstead from Swadia to Asoya."

The cart bumped and ambled along the rutted track. Her shoulder wasn't necessarily feeling better and she certainly felt every jarring rut and bump. She let her mind wander as they followed the path in relative quiet. Another lovely day with the crisp promise of fall in the air. The nights would grow longer, the days cooler, the leaves would don their brilliant coats of reds and golds. For the first time in her life she would miss the harvest festival. A very old tradition and very well loved. Massive fires, feasting, music. A far different, rustic sort of affair for the village folk, presided over by her family. She wondered if it was a sort of thing Friderick would like. She'd made her disdain of formal feasts and balls known but she did enjoy the harvest festival. Her mind drifted further, imagining the striking figure Friderick would make in a tunic of deep reds and browns for the celebration, walking amongst the small-folk between roaring fires with mugs of spiced wine, perhaps a red haired boy and brown haired girl in tow...

Jacqueline's rambling fantasy world popped like a bubble when Friderick spoke up again. She blinked and looked over at him, the distant and wistful little smile snapping off her face. Icedrift? Jacqueline shuddered at the idea of roving even further north for the winter. Winter was not her least favorite season but she always struggled to keep warm even with thick woolens and furs. Pearlpoint sounded far better to her. A big city was easy to disappear in. A gleam of keen interest flashed across her face as he mention starting up her training to joust. She couldn't help the grin that stretched her lips at the prospect. "Pearlpoint sounds ideal. In such a large city no one would question our presence. I would not mind shoveling some stables if it meant finally jousting....against another person. I have taken a few tilts to a quintain but a very few....hiding sword practice was far easier than joust practice," she said with a small laugh, remembering the shrill shrieks of her mother when she was caught doing such unladylike things. Excited enough for the new lessons she hardly noticed the teasing use of a title.

Finally they were approaching the convent. They managed to make it back with no further troubles. Her head tilted but she nodded in agreement. They would have salves and tinctures to keep ill humors away and hasten recovery. His warning was met with offense, though partially playful. She gave him a scandalized look and laid her hand on her chest. "Truly you think me a monster. Why would I bite and scratch people who only intend to help? That treatment is reserved for you alone," she added with devilish grin and wiggle of her eyebrows.

He estimated well and they passed through the gates shortly after sunset. The nuns swooped in to stable the horses and begin unloading the wagon. Jacqueline was quickly whisked away to have the wound looked at and Friderick was hardly allowed to linger long, being ushered off to where they quartered visiting men. Both were fed and provided baths, their clothes taken to be washed. Once clean Jacuqeline's wound was assessed with much tutting and muttering. The stitching was deemed acceptable so she would not have to endure it again. The wound was washed, salved, and bandaged. It was another night of poor sleep, even with a draught for the pain in her shoulder it still ached some. Of course, there was a certain very large figure she had quickly grown accustomed to having in bed with her. Even with a thick blanket it was terribly cold and lonely.

Jacqueline rose close to with the sun, the small windows hardly allowing much light in her sparse chambers. She shivered some and wriggled into freshly clothes. The nuns had even provided new bandaging strips to bind her chest, though she needed some assistance to bind with her injury. A meager breakfast of hard bread, cheese, and boiled oats was provided before they readied their horses. The nuns bid them safe travels, the mother superior herself came down to see them off. She swore to keep her word and the secret for them as best as she could. If something untoward were to occur she promised to hasten a rider with a message to Pearlpoint. With that they were off for the south.

With just them and their horses, including the pack horse, the travel was swifter than the trundling wagon. Still it would be a long trek south. Halfway through their trip Jacqueline's shoulder was well enough on the mend she could lightly swing a sword again. It wasn't much longer that Friderick had to remove the stitching and they could begin training once more, albeit still lighter than what she would prefer. The weather changed drastically, cool autumn winds began to blow. The sky would be bright and clear, the air crisp, then sudden storms would roll in. The final week of their journey south was a misery, wet more often than not and fires nearly impossible to get started. Of course Jacqueline hated every moment of the wet and cold but she fought her baser instincts of misery. Even after so long she couldn't be seen as unable to endure some discomforts.

Their arrival at Pearlpoint was met with a great deal of relief, even if it was internalized. Having at the very least a roof and a dry place to sleep was more a boon than she could have realized. Jacqueline couldn't help a sigh of relief as they saw the large city in the distance, she could hardly even complain about the odor of such a massive city. A warm bath and stew sounded a prize worth of God himself at that point. Of course they would have to find work quickly, it wasn't as if they could access coffers so far away.
 
The business at the convent wrapped up rather conveniently. He thought the Mother Superior would put an end to their twisted conspiracy of training a lady to be a squire and knight after seeing the wounds Lady Jacqueline suffered. The story was divulged to the nuns, of how they fought off bandits attempting to rob the very bounty they had just ridden to the grounds of this remote church, but had preserved and saved the much needed foodstuffs from highway robbery. They were probably unaware, the bandits, that such aid would most likely be redistributed to them anyways through the convent’s own network. The irony of such things.

In any case, there was no lecture or argument about the feasibility of their little scheme. Night came and went, with dawn coming swiftly, and Friderick got a long, deep rest despite being separated from Jacqueline. Maybe not having the little minx trying to latch onto him with her needy desires (which he shared) helped in some way. When it was time to depart, Friderick still expected some stern words but the Mother Superior only reaffirmed her promise to keep their secret. Moreover, she even gave them a bonus in the form of a coin purse for their troubles. Friderick, in charge of their finances, took that with humility and gratitude. Now with no wagon to pull, they could make much faster progress on their horses, along with their third pack animal to haul their goods and gear. On to Pearlpoint, a rich trading port and walled city in the south of Swadia.

There was little incident on the journey. Jacqueline recovered and they got to their usual sparring sessions, an hour at dawn and evening, to work up and maintain the strength and stamina. Friderick wasn’t expecting a quiet, lazy winter in the city. Trade and commerce still went on and Pearlpoint’s harbour did not ice up during the winter, allowing ships to come and go to the strange south and east lands across the waters. A hundred thousand people dwelt in that city. Nearly a dozen languages, three faiths, and all professions under the sun represented there, ruled by council of rich oligarchs who answered to the distant Boy-Emperor of Swadia.

Snows already covered many of the hedged and thicketed meadows about the town. The farmlands were buried beneath, with only a few tall stalks and decaying plants poking through. A few carts, horses and wanderers moved about the area. The gate guards only took an interest in them because of the slowness of the season but gave them no trouble, beyond bugging them for news and rumour of distant lands, of which Friderick had none to give them. Then, they were inside the city.

“Let us find quarters at some way station for the next few months. I also need to visit an Azadi Bank House, see if any deposits were made for me by my folk in Alnerwick.” Friderick told Jacqueline as they moved through the semi-crowded streets. The Azadi’s, a wandering mercantile folk, held bank houses in numerous towns and cities, across borders, and had their own system of communication and networking, so that a traveler could safely deposit funds in one city, travel across a continent, and find his bank note honored in a separate location. It was how Friderick received his funds from his little Barony far to the north. Well, what little meagre funds could be spared for him. Under the promise he would win prize money enough to pay it back and then some for the development of his homeland. He was in the plus currently, but not by much.

Of course, Jacqueline’s father could very will, arbitrarily, gave her a one-time donation of Friderick’s entire annual income if he so pleased, and think it average.

There was a backroad tavern called The Sweet Zebra where nobles desiring comfortable yet affordable quarters could be found. It solely served folk of their pedigree. Peasants and other foreign traders had to use the more main road institutions. It had a common dining room and bar on the first floor, its own stables, a gated and walled courtyard in front and a small garden at rear, with rooms located in two rear structures. Each quarter was the size of a modest hovel, having a smaller common room, two bedrooms, a pantry, and bathing chamber. For an extra fee, hot water could be delivered every morning. Friderick paid for it all. He had to get a two-bedroom lodging of course. They were, after all, two “males” living together.

It was the innkeeper’s suggestion that the “little kid” could always sleep on a couch, if Friderick wished to save money. Friderick flatly responded the “little kid’s” Duke of a father would not appreciate that. The innkeeper said no more. On their way to their room, Friderick sneered. “If we ever meet an innkeeper who is kind, I’ll graduate you to knight on the spot.” He snorted.

“I doubt there’ll be much fighting, but there’ll be work. Escort services for merchants, warehouse protection, or simple find-and-recover requests. Nothing glorious, but necessary for your education. These traveling bands, these merchants, caravans, they are the lifeline of every and any fief in this land. They bring goods and trade but more importantly, information. When you rule one day, you should understand this.” Friderick lectured Jacqueline, arriving to their room and using the iron key to unlock and enter. Some house servants had already cleaned it out for them.

“Alright. Let us find food, wine, wood, and some parchment and ink. I’m sure your family would like to know where you are. Tomorrow, we start looking for work.” Friderick said, seating himself on a couch by the dead fireplace.
 
The city was astounding. Jacqueline had never seen its like before. Even with the small, soft layers of snow, it was teeming with life. Her head whipped this way and that as she tried to take it all in. While she knew they would be there quite some time, more than enough to take in all the sights, she couldn't be but be awed. It was hard to imagine that, for the time being, traffic was considered slow for the town. Even the largest towns in Lancaster paled to the sheer size of the city, certainly the amount of people there. The guards seemed desperate for news of the outside but they had none to give. Compared to the hubbub of such a place the sweeping countryside would be dull in comparison. Friderick's mention of the Azadi Bank brought a confused frown and tilt of her head. She'd never heard of such things before, never been directly privy to talks of finance and trade unlike her brother.

She followed in Friderick's wake to backroads of the town, away from the central chaos. Zebra? What in God's name was a Zebra? Based on the character on the sign it must be some sort of striped horse. A strange and base fantasy she supposed though she had seen horses with a brindled coat. The horses were taken and quartered comfortably in the stables. It was a very fine place indeed, just another surprise for the day. The innkeeper's commentary was hardly anything new. At every turn it seemed they pushed for the squire, who for them by all accounts was a boy, to sleep on couches and floors. Friderick, of course, was more than keen to have two beds. It seemed even before the secret was out. She snickered at his comment as they headed to their quarters. "You'd think they wouldn't try to undersell so much," she agreed. It seemed Friderick couldn't help but toss in a lecture concerning trade and goods. Normally she might have huffed and rolled her eyes a bit at him though, for once, she agreed. There was a staggering amount she would have to learn in, likely, a short time. Hopefully not too short, she would prefer to see her father live to a ripe old age.

The quarters were...again, surprising. A fine little sitting area complete with furnishings and a fair pantry to keep a small supply of food. Two individual rooms and even a bathing chamber. After two moons on the road the place seemed a palace akin to her own home. With the hearth unlit the room was a bit chill for her liking. Southern Swadia it might be but it was still far further north than her own home which experienced very mild and short winters. Friderick's orders were met with a sharp nod. With her shoulder well on the mend she had been able to feel useful again and, as always, keen to do her role. Quick like a rabbit she put their gear in their individual rooms and left their quarters. She brought the food, wine, and writing supplies first before braving the chilly outside to find wood and kindly. Snow had begun to fall again and when she returned she was finely dusted in the glittering powder. She shook herself of, her quickly growing mane of shaggy red hair flopping into her eyes as the snow melted into it. She set the pile of split logs by the hearth to build up a fresh fire.

With their time on the road she had grown quicker at building a fire and soon enough had a cheery blaze going. For a moment she stayed crouched by the hearth, warming her chilled fingers. It was a strange feeling. Housed comfortably and simply, a new fire spreading heat into the chilled room. Jacqueline glanced over her shoulder, blue eyes settling on Friderick. Despite their reasons for being there and the challenges they faced to get there a pleasing sort of calm had settled on her. She was happy, content. There was still more work to do, training to accomplish, her own dreams of a knigthood but, for the moment, she could just enjoy the moment of peace. Perhaps that was simply it, the strange feeling. She had always been keen to go out, adventure, find the next new, exciting thing. There had been plenty of adventures with Friderick and, for once in her life, she enjoyed the peace.

Old habits died hard though. Jacqueline finally stood up, shedding her cloak to hang and steam by the fire. Boots and stockings followed. Bare feet tapped lightly on the wooden floor as she moved to the table to uncork the wine and pour two glasses out. She turned and, rather unceremoniously, slid herself right onto Friderick's lap. A knee rested against the back of the couch on either side of his hips while she settled on his thighs. She maintained a small, coy, distance between their bodies, leaning back just a little to keep that space, and offered him the fuller of the two cups. "To finding winter work," she said with a toasting salute of her cup and took a sip. "Do knights normally winter in places other than their own estates? I understand what you speak of, learning of trade routes and the like...but it seems to me there are matters to attend at home? I remember father would return home in the winter when he traveled for tournaments, though Jacque and I were very young when he did. You would like Lancaster I think," she said quickly changing track from discussing her father and brother. "We see very little snow in the winter, some years none at all," she went on, her free hand creeping out and letting two fingers idling 'walk' up Friderick's broad chest. "Large fields to ride, in the summer the sea is nice for a swim and when the tide is low there are caves near the sea to explore."
 
For Friderick, this was only a lull before the stormy waters would begin again. There was never truly any prolonged peace. Just a greater period of pent up tribulations until it all spilled over. He couldn’t fathom what Lady Jacqueline was so high spirits about. It was only a simple lodging they had acquired and certainly nothing of the luxury she must be used to. Perhaps she was only naïve to the work that was to come. In the cold winter? It would be twice as grueling. Or maybe he was the wrong one here, always seeing the negatives, and not living in the moment, to smell the roses as one might say. He watched her shed her garments almost as seamlessly as she could drop any sign of worry or stress. He envied that. But he had other problems soon as she approached with the cup of wine she politely poured for him.

Heiress of a Duke or Squire? It was hard to separate the two sometimes. One brooked all the fealty and service in the world, the other was meant to serve and learn to follow. “I-“ he started to say when she climbed right into his lap, seating herself on his thighs, subconsciously bringing them together to form a base for her to sit on. She straddled his hips, her legs to either side, and he forgot that she was supposed to be acting like a boy in the daytime. They had barely been settled in two minutes and already she had her passions flared up. Seems she was not one for smelling the roses either.

He took his wine and toasted with her silently before sipping it, holding it to one side, along the arm rest, while his other found itself settling atop her thigh at his other side. It began to graze listlessly, knowing there was a very feminine leg underneath her boyish garments. He listened to her remarks about why they didn’t simply go home for the winter. Yes, that was their privilege after all, as nobles, to have estates and servants in which they could sit at ease while the winter passed them by. That sort of living was soft though and not conducive to making a formidable knight at arms. He tingled at her own grazing hand on his chest and neck, touching his bare, warm flesh. There were other activities also not conducive in the winter time. He gulped with some difficulty. Even worse was concealing his growing mass beneath her.

“The rich ones get to go home. Others have to earn their feed during the cold months. I could have gone home, but there wouldn’t be anything to do in my little land. My father’s younger brother, our local chaplain, administers on my behalf and sends me updates. Speaking of which, I’ll have to write to him too where I am at. As you should with your family.” He informed her. “I’m sure your home is very nice as well. I should know, we were there just a few weeks ago remember?” Friderick reminded her with a smirk, watching her intently as he raised his cup to sip. He then shifted to get more comfortable, but didn’t need to. He just wanted to feel her body shift on his lap. God, it was hard to resist. They were alone, private, and concealed, though it still be daylight. And they did make a lot of noise. There was no vast stretches of wilderness to absorb any of it.

“But it is wise that we do not linger in idleness during these months. Though the fields be snow capped and farmers have nothing to do doesn’t mean we must sit idly as well. You would soon lose much of any progress you made during the year in terms of your training. No, it’s good to be on the move. And this freezing weather will teach your body how to be enduring and strong. Do you understand what I’m saying, my Lady?” Friderick said to her, using her title teasingly. What she was doing, on his lap, was very unladylike however. “Your father returned home only to visit his children I would think.” He added, something he couldn’t relate to. He was out here trying to garner his own family but that failed miserably at the last tournament.

“The work we might do might seem fit for mercenaries but it should make no difference to us. The result and means required are all the same.” Friderick downed the rest of his wine and put it aside, both his hands coming to rest on her sides. To push her off or keep her there? “Now you should write to your family, as I’ve said. We need to know if the Mother Superior keeps her word and declares Lady Jacqueline Lancaster to be a member of their flock and not out doing…this.” He said, indicating her seating with his gleaming eyes, before his lips spread in a smile. Not that he disapproved, but they still had to play it safe. But…would she listen to him? He could detect a hint of rambunctiousness from her.
 
The gentle, idle dance of his fingers on her thigh made her grin as they left warm, tingling trails. She couldn't help notice he was enjoying the attentions far more than he appeared to be letting on turning her grin amused and sly. Jacqueline lightly sipped her wine as he spoke, listening intently. Friderick was never particularly forthcoming with his own life, his home, his family. She'd asked once and it had seemed an impertinence she had dared ask. So his uncle still lived on the lands as a chaplain, running the estate as Friderick traveled for gold and glory. Interesting. Though as he spoke of writing to his uncle he once more pressed her to write her own letter to her family. Though she laughed as he reminded her of their visit to her home. "You were-" she started but cut off as he shifted around a bit. Jacqueline gripped her wine, careful not to spill until he settled again. The shift caused her to slide forward just a bit more, knees fully embedded into the back cushions. "You were barely there," she said with a small laugh.

His light lecture about the idleness of winter and losing any progress of training brought a long, scoffing sigh. "Yes I understand, my lord," she quipped right back at him. "I was hardly suggesting sitting about and discussing the weather while eating cakes," she said with a light laugh and small sip of wine. Though she wouldn't readily admit she was not looking forward to working in the cold and snow. She wanted to trust that training in such extremes would make her stronger but all she could think of was red, runny noses, frozen toes, and uncontrollable shivering. Of course, there were some indoor activities she was rather keen to explore some more. Her thoughts only turned to those stronger as he finished his wine and rested both hands on her sides.

Hopes dashed like a bucket of ice water. Again, write letters. His little comment and gleaming smile made her think he, perhaps, was more keen on other things than letters. Jacqueline edged just a touch more forward, her body just barely up against his. Her free hand snaked up behind his neck, a wicked little glint in her eyes. She pressed his head forward as she leaned up and kiss his brow. "As you wish, letters it is," she said in a voice somewhere between sighing defeat and coy teasing. Oh there were far better things to do than write letters, certainly. Though if he wished to tease and play games she could play along. Given the warm, hard mass she could see below her it would be as much a detriment to him as her. Without another word she slid back and wriggled out of his hands to stand and move herself to the side of the short table near the fire even if it was on the floor. She'd rather sit where the fire merrily warmed her back.

Truly, the hardest part of trying to impersonate her brother was the writing. Her own hand was scrawling, uneven, childish. In contrast Jacque was gifted with a pen. Never mind the flowing, elegant script he wrote in, he could render beautiful pictures with ink and quill. Jacqueline stared down at the parchment, quill in hand. How was she going to mimic his writing. Slowly, carefully, she tried to write as Jacque did. The lines squiggled and squirmed with blotches on ink where she hesitated too long. Jacuqeline growled at the page, crumbled the parchment and tossed it behind her into the flames. Over and over she tried, the effort growing more and more frustrating as little improved with the attempt. Soon the hearth behind was littered with crumbled and partially singed efforts. "How does Jacque do it," she growled down at the paper, her nose scarce a breath from the parchment. Somehow she had managed to smudge ink on her cheek.

The best she could do was hardly close to his writing but she could include an excuse. The writing was worse than usual given the soreness of muscles from training and harshly calloused hands? So long as it was different enough from her own hand they wouldn't suspect the letter had come from her. "It is wonder so many nobles pay for scribes....this is tedious," she said with a huff, flopping back on the floor, her legs fully under the table. "I think I preferred when you charged me without warning," she added with a laugh. At the time it had been terrifying, in hindsight it was rather funny. Friderick on Wingfoot, wanting practice before the tournament, while she simply held a shield on the ground. He had been furious about....something. Aurainne. Jancqueline looked over to Friderick and the words tumbled out before she thought better of them. "Are you still infatuated with Aurainne?"
 
His eyebrow quivered with some irritation when Lady Jacqueline sighed at his advice and guidance about winter activity. What was that, annoyance on her part? Wasn’t he trying to teach her the knightly profession, that it was a tenure of work and effort? If she wished to be lazy and idle then she could return home and enjoy her privilege as a future Duchess and ruler over many knights and retainers who would happily do these tasks for her. “I saw enough.” He said about her homeland. In truth it was almost too perfect for him. A fairy tale castle on a hill, meadows of wild flowers, small hamlets and villages each more prosperous than his little Barony.

“Yes, I know exactly what you are suggesting.” Friderick met her sass with a scoffing sigh of his own, mimicking her. From how she went straight to the wine than to his lap, she was a needy little thing, and while he had no qualms about indulging her, as it was to his benefit as well, he feared exposure and suspicion might have greater chances of arising the more often they did. They…best save it for more secure moments. And it served as a useful motivator and reward for making her succeed at her knightly ambitions.

He watched with raised eyebrows as she moved out of his lap and then plopped down on the floor near the table, tucking herself in. Friderick leaned forward, elbows on his knees, looking down at her in a moment of astonishment and realization. This little lady, scarcely in the fullness of her womanhood, so eager to become a knight, and so full of passions and eagerness. Perhaps he was too old to fully deal with her, nearly his thirtieth year, and found himself recalling with some fondness his own enthusiasm at that age. He couldn’t let his own worries impede her own adventure. This was the time in her life where she should enjoy, before the responsibilities of rule and authority bore down on her. She would be a great Duchess someday. And beyond his reach and attainment. Did she know that? He was too low in rank and status to ever be a proper match for him.

Which is why…he ought not to indulge, because it might make the fall from eventual heartbreak all the more worse.

He sat and sipped his wine, watching her put thoughts to words, getting into the head of her brother. “Don’t overthink it.” He quietly assured her, as she tossed attempt after attempt into the fire. “They also hire scribes because it’s painful on the eyes.” He said matter-of-factly. “Without warning? When?” He asked with a furrowed brow, before lowering his jaw even more and staring his eyes pointedly at her from the top of their sockets. He breathed heavily through his nose when she mentioned that name. “No.” He said flatly. It still pained him to think about it…how hard he tried, how much weight he put on her opinion, how badly she had walked all over his efforts like some game. No, he was quite finished with her.

Wine finished, he plopped it down rather heavily on the table…and then slid off the couch, slipping down on the ground beside her, legs brushing against hers under the table. He grabbed the back of her neck in one hand and licked the thumb of his other, reaching over to wipe away the smudge of ink on her cheek. So very soft and feminine. Most saw it was leftover boyish baby-fat. “I’ll be your scribe. You dictate. I’ll write.” At least his writing would have a masculine tone, unlike her script. He took the paper and quill from her and wrote out the introduction at least.

Dear Lord Father and Beloved Mother. I am quartered in Pearlpoint for the winter with Ser Friderick. I am in good health and look forward to continuing my training during the following months. They would add only two lines about the Nunnery and her so-called placement there, before Friderick suggested a dodge and had Jacqueline speak mostly about the errands they ended up running for the Mother Superior instead. The letter concluded with a return address and promises to write more.

“And you should write a second letter to your brother, where he really is, along with a copy of this letter, so he is aware.” Friderick instructed as well. He would copy the first letter. Writing to her brother, she could simply be herself, since her twin was obviously in on the secret. “And after that…we’re all done.” He suddenly broke into a smile. No more work for the day. “Unless you prefer to do some light sparring here, you’re free to spend this day however you wish, Esquire Lancaster.” Friderick informed her, topping up his cup of wine. And she could do to him as she pleased, too. But he would let her figure out that was back on the table.

“We should think of making this lodging more homely. Maybe some plants. Gardening builds good stewardship and focus. Not for a knight but for a ruler, as you’ll eventually become.” He said, eventually rising up from under the table and going to where their trunks and bags still sat in a heap after being carried in. He dug out his standard and unattached it from its pole, moving to hang that up on the wall beside the dining table. “Actually…your letter to your parents. Add a post-script. Ask for a small family standard for yourself. Your lance, when you’ve earned it, will fly it a foot beneath the spearhead. I think it would look rather chivalrous and bold, don’t you think?” Friderick said, smiling towards her. “Oh, and you’ll also state you’ll be paying for it out of your own purse.”
 
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