Her clothes were tattered and torn, her long dark brown hair matted and clumped. There was no way she could've outrun the bandits chasing her, especially without shoes. There were three; one an archer.
The lack of an arrow into her back meant only one thing. Rape. He couldn't allow something like that to happen in front of him. It wasn't something he could stomach.
The pouring rain masked his horses gallop until he was almost on them. The archer went down from a good slash across his chest; by the time he landed in the puddle, turning red slowly from his blood, he was dead.
The remaining pair noticed him and forgot the girl. One had a claymore, the other had a longsword. He charged them, only to find himself thrown forward off his horse as the mount's legs were cut out from beneath it.
His heavy armor kept him from landing on his feet, sending him sprawling and knocking his sword from his grasp. He managed to stand, only to find himself beset upon by their blades.
His Dwemer armor protected him for the most part, but their blows would leave bruises and welts that wouldn't be fun to heal. He knocked the longsword away from him, and ducked under an especially fierce blow from the claymore. The lack of contact sent the man spinning, his claymore cutting halfway into his mate's torso, where it stuck.
The Redguard was helpless to stop the hail of punches and kicks from the heavily armored man, his body brutalized until it no longer twitched. The girl saw this, and her eyes grew wide with fear as lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the man who had slaughtered her pursuers, armor slicked with gore, the white metal gleaming red.
Her screams were drowned out by the rain and thunder.
She awoke late, the rain had passed and the sun was near setting. The man in the white and red armor carried her in his arms easily. No She thought, It's only white.
He felt her wake, and set her gently on her feet, looking down at her through the near-hidden slit in the armor. "Are you alright young miss?"
"F-fine sir..." She stammered, unable to face this giant without showing fear. "They didn't have me."
"Why were you out alone at night?"
"I... I fled from home sir. Don't ask where I'm from, I won't let you make me go back."
The man seemed interested at this statement, and removed his helm. Her lips parted slightly as she saw the face of the young man beneath. No older than twenty, his black hair was cut short, and his face was unmistakeably imperial, though his skin was darkened somewhat, like a Redguard.
"Why did you run?"
"My step-father sir... He is a very bad man."
"I see... You'll come with me then."
He handed her his helm, and she walked by his side, wincing slightly as the rocks cut into her feet, already raw from her run through the rain. The man said nothing, merely pulling her off to the side of the road, he vanished into the thick forest nearby.
Her heart beat quickly, thinking she'd been abandoned. She clutched the helm tightly against her breast, and seemed to hold her breath for hours before he came back.
He had her sit down, lifting one of her feet upwards and wrapping it in a cool green leaf, somehow weaving grass through to make a simple shoe. She blushed red as she realized the view he had up her skirt, but his eyes didn't stray from his work.
After finishing both peculiar shoes, he began walking on the path again, silent.
The cool leaves somehow seemed to soothe her feet, and made the ground feel less rough beneath her.
"S-sir? Where are we going?"
"Skingrad." He said this in a flat tone, as if bored by her question.
"D-do you live there sir?"
"I very recently came to Cyrodiil; I have no home yet."
"Where are you from?"
"I'll tell you when you tell me."
She fell silent dumbly, before realizing what he'd meant. The sun sank below the horizon, the stars appearing in the sky one by one, before flooding into existence as the last traces of sunlight disappeared.
They climbed the path to Skingrad Castle, stopping just outside the torchlight. He stopped and scooped up a handful of dirt, rubbing it on her face and cheeks. She thought of protest, but she could not resist the knight who'd saved her.
They were stopped by the guard, but a glance or two at her let them both in relatively unchallenged.
She waited on a bench near the front of the Castle's atrium, before her knight reappeared with a smiling, laughing Orc holding a hefty bag of coins.
They walked into town and almost immediately entered a huge house.
"You live here sir?"
"We do now."
The implication slowly started to sink in, but it's impact was diminished by the hunger pangs in her stomach, and the lingering tiredness even her nap did not cure.
He unlocked the door and they entered into the cold, drafty, and empty house. They climbed the stairs to the third floor and entered into the bedroom, where the only piece of furniture in the house rested.
Her groggy mind cleared somewhat, and she felt herself growing nervous at the implications of only a single bed.
"I don't have any food, but we will buy some first thing in the morning. Along with furniture and new clothing for you. For now, we need sleep."
"B-but there's only a single bed..."
"It's more than big enough for a scrap of a girl and one man."
Her face grew red, not from embarrassment, but from anger. "I am a woman, thank you."
He turned his face to her, and even in the dim lighting she couldn't miss his smirk.
"My apologies. I assumed women needed to be older than twelve."
"I'm fourteen!"
He laughed, and removed his gauntlets and cuirass before replying. "The bed will be fine for the both of us. We have no firewood anyway, and the house is cold."
She wanted to complain further, but her anger was already sapped by her tiredness. Her eyes traced over the dirty clothes beneath his armor, and she wondered how he'd managed to buy this house.
When he removed his shirt and started undoing his belt, she felt fear slowly rising in her chest.
She wanted to run, but his eyes seemed to hold her in place even when not fixed on her.
He turned to her clad only in his underwear, quirking an eyebrow.
"You aren't wearing those filthy rags to bed. Take them off."
Her heart beat quickly and he caught her look of panic.
"If you'd like, I'll keep my eyes closed."
Somehow, his comment cut through her like a knife, calming her.
"T-that's alright."
Turning away from him, she took off her shirt and skirt, shivering lightly and getting goosebumps along her arms and legs.
She climbed under the covers before him, seeking warmth. He lay on the other side of the bed, climbing beneath with her. She let out a small noise of surprise as his arms wrapped around her and pulled her close against his body.
Neither said anything, and his hands did not stray above or below her stomach. She was unused to sleeping like this, let alone without her nightgown.
Her bra itched terribly, but she didn't dare take it off.
Did she?
She thought about the situation. She was rescued from a gang of rapists by a warrior she didn't know a thing about, and who didn't know her. He carried her with him while she slept, and had given her a place to say for the night.
He hadn't peeked up her skirt, nor did he look at her underwear-clad body with even a hint of lust. She found him quite handsome, and she was, in her mind at least, a woman.
She pried his arms free, removing her bra and tossing it to the side before pressing back against him.
She could feel his bare chest against her bare back, and a feeling like warmth spread throughout her body.
His arms wrapped around her once again, across her stomach.
She sighed, half from relief and half from disappointment, when his hand moved upwards to cup one of her still-growing breasts.
Her breath caught, and her heart raced... The hand did not move, nor did she. He did not squeeze or fondle, and soon his breathing was deep and even, broken only once by a snore.
Her tiredness crashed down around her, and she felt herself falling asleep.
The last thought through her head was one of confusion. He kept her so warm, yet she felt her nipple hard against his hand.