As the Baroness of a fairly large span of kingdom, Santana always made always made it point to ride out amongst the villages closes to her estate and make her presence known. Although her title was technically a rather low one in terms of nobility, it was more part of the family name than an actual indicator of her power. Were she to choose to be more accurate, she'd be an Archduchess. But that just didn't have the same ring to it, and she heard it enough when she had to attend court with the other nobles.

So she was Baroness Lopez, and anyone lesser who tried saying differently quickly found out why she also held the title of "The Beast". It wasn't one of her more fond titles, but it was accurate enough when it came to her temper, and way of handling a weapon.

Finesse and the more refined sword arts were all fine and good, but she hadn't one a few good territory battles with fancy flicks of her wrist— she'd slain her enemies with quick and merciless hacks and slashes, and was proud of that.

Prouder still that, as she passed a small farm on the edges of the village she was heading towards, the peasants in the fields quickly looked down, murmuring "Morning, m'Lady" as she rode by on her jet black mare, wearing her riding leathers, because she was this lands ruler and she certainly wasn't going ride around in one of her pristine dresses if she didn't want to.

Just as the village came into view along the horizon, she saw someone running towards her, dressed in clothing that looked too refined for her skin tone (tan from field work, not heritage, Santana was sure) and, as she drew closer, tears were obvious on the girl's face.

The running young woman tripped over her gowns only a few yards from where she had halted her horse, and, curious, and perhaps a little smitten from what she could see of the girl, Santana rode up closer, dismounting from her steed and striding up to the quickly rising woman. The brunette, whose hair, upon closer inspection, was clearly braided for ceremony, nearly tripped again in her haste to rise, and without thinking Santana's hands shot out to steady her.

The woman's puffy, bloodshot eyes widened in realization as they shot up to look at Santana, and she fell back, once again to the ground, as she stumbled away. "B-Baroness Lopez, I'm not— This isn't what it looks like!"

Santana raised her brow, then narrowed her eyes. "Wait… You're… Berry. Rachel Berry, daughter of the doctor."

The girl, Rachel, nodded slowly, still on the ground, and most obviously nervous. "Um… Yes, m'Lady…?"

Santana knelt and gently helped her to her feet. She looked her over quickly, taking in the fine outfit. She smirked. "Dare I ask why you're running from your own wedding?"

Rachel lowered her eyes as the noble brushed a few tears away. "I just… needed some air, m'Lady."

"Quite a lot of air here on the edge of the village," Santana said, still smiling.

"I…I…."

Taking pity on the obviously flustered girl, she held a finger to her lips. "Shh…it's alright. I'm sure cold feet before your bonding ceremony is perfectly natural."

"It's already happened," the younger woman whispered.

Santana quirked an eyebrow at her. She took her wine sack from the saddle and offered it to Rachel. "Calm yourself. Drink. Now, why on earth would you be running from your husband." A dark look passed over her face. "Is he harsh with you?"

Rachel laughed and took a small sip of the sweet wine. It was worlds better than the foul mead Finn had served at the ceremony. "I guess he's no crueler than most. But I've only just met him today."

Santana reeled back in shock. "Engagements usually last a good year with peasants! And the lords of the area are notified. Why the rush?"

Tears began to fall, and Rachel looked down again. "I…I had to. To help my family."

"Ye gods," Santana muttered. She'd heard of this - some of the low born basically sold their daughters away to the highest bidder.

Hoof beats sounded on the cobbles, drawing the women's attention down the road. A group of three riders was coming towards them, and Santana could tell by Rachel's look of fear that the leader was her new husband.

"You! What are you doing with my wife?" the man demanded.

"I'll thank you to show me a bit more respect, good sir," Santana said evenly.

"I do not take orders from wenches," he sneered. "Come, Rachel."

Immediately Santana stepped in front of him, drawing her sword and pointing it to his throat before the large man could even set his hand on the hilt of his own weapon, or even for his companions to react accordingly. "Tell me, wretch, do you often speak with a limp tongue to those of higher blood than you?" asked the Baroness calmly, a slight, smug smirk gracing her features.

The man doubled back, hands up, and a frown twisting his face angrily. "Higher blood? I am Finn son of Hunds, Baron from the North! And who are you to speak to me in such a way?" glowered the tall, lumbering man.

"Archduchess Lopez, Lady of these lands. On your knees, scum. I am not fond of swinish, urchen-headed skut," snarled Santana. Finn's companions did so with haste, but their leader hesitated, gnawing on his lip angrily.

Suddenly, he stepped back, drawing his blade, and set his jaw. "I see what you want now, Lady Lopez, be that your true title at all. You wish for my woman. She is mine, by fair and legal contract. I suggest you be on your way before I must use force!"

Rachel stepped back from Santana and her newly made husband, eyes wide as saucers and hands trembling. "F-Finn, don't. Lady Lopez truly is the ruler of these lands, and a worthy, terrifying advisory. She'll-"

"Silence, woman! Let the harlot speak for herself!"

In a flash of sunlight Santana's sword was slicing through the air, a fierce scowl on her lips and teeth bared as she swung without relent, pushing Finn back as he tried to recover from the sudden attack, barely able to parry the rain of heavy, quick blows. "You disgusting -slice- knavish -slice - son of an ogre and a whore! You wish to match blows for this lady's hand? Then so be it!"

And with that Santana pressed into her attack, just as Finn made to thrust his blade to your chest. She stepped to the side, parrying the reckless attack easily, twisting their blades together and around, then out, and as Finn's sword flew from his hand to land somewhere off to the side beyond his reach his opponent stepped in, one food behind his ankle, and kicked it, sending him to the ground as well.

In less than a second the tip of her sword was pressed to the man's Adam's apple, her boot heavy on his chest and heated eyes boring into him. "You declared this a duel for Lady Berry's hand, as witnessed by your own and the Lady herself. You are defeated, and I thus claim her as my own."

The group stood stunned as Finn gasped for air on the ground.

"I… I never agreed… You can't…you can't do that," he wheezed.

"Can't I?" Santana asked with a smirk.

"She is mine! And she will come with me, lest she wishes her family to starve."

Rachel was shaking slightly, and Santana could see that she needed to put an end to this for the younger woman's sake. She removed her boot from Finn's chest and stood back. "Very well. I hereby invoke my right of prima nocte."

"What nonsense is this?" Finn asked.

"Your grace," one of his companions said, and then spoke softly in his ear.

He turned an impressive array of colors before exploding. "WHAT?"

"As lord, or in my case, lady, of this land, it is my divine right to have a young maiden on her wedding night," Santana explained, amused at the oaf's purple face. "And when I say 'have', I'm being indelicate."

"I forbid it."

"You, sire, are on my land. You have no authority or right to forbid me anything," she snapped. "Your bride shall be returned safely to you…if she wants to return, that is."

Finn stood huffing as Santana helped Rachel onto the horse. "I have heard of you," he called.

"Oh?"

"Now that I think on it. They call you The Beast. Well, Rachel," he spat at his wife, "I wish you luck with The Beast tonight. Perhaps you'll think twice about running from me in future after she ravages you like the animal they claim her to be."

The other riders visibly recoiled from their lord. Santana was tempted to cut the brute down where he stood, but the shaking figure in her arms settled her temper. She nudged the horse gently, and they sped of to the west towards the castle gates.