A/N - Completly AU mini-story set in Middle Ages France. Why not?
Summary - A greedy kind, a beautiful princess and Logan as a knight. Rated M to be safe.
Normandy - Spring 1381
It had been a harsh winter. The landscape was barren, the ground had been frozen solid for months, and the crops from the earlier harvest were all but used up. The self-serving King Eric Devillier, paid little attention to his subjects other than what taxes they bought in to fund his great expenses. Of course, the royal court could not do without. They had not been affected by the famine that ravaged the land. Nor had they given a thought to the villagers who provided for them.
The king had a great many treasures, one of them being Princess Marie Annette Peronelle Devillier, who was soon to enter her fifteenth year. Slender and fair, with richly colored mahogany hair that fell to her waist, Princess Marie was envied by the women of the court for her beauty. It was to be the first time she was allowed in the ceremony hall before the banquet. Living a sheltered life within the palace walls, young Marie knew not much of the world beyond what she could see from her tower bedroom windows, which was a fine view of the rolling landscape in one direction and an endless expanse of stormy sea in the other.
Her father, King Eric was to hold a feast in honor of the knights, chevaliers du royaume vert, returning home from long months away in battle. Their leader, the fierce Sir James de Bois Héroult, took an armored knee in front of his king and bowed low.
"Your Grace, as per your rule, we have conquered the revolutionist settlements in the eastern part of the territory. The country has been secured from treason."
There was a spattering of applause from the court. It lasted a few moments before the King raised a heavily jeweled hand and a silence fell over the vast stone room, as final as a shroud.
"Sir James, you have fought valiantly. The sacrifice you and your men have made for our country will be documented in history. We welcome you back to court with open arms."
Sir James had been exiled a few years before for marrying a lady of the court, whose brother was the king's hand, without permission of the king. Lady Jean de Thibouville had not met a fortunate end, succumbing to maternal death soon after delivering the couple's stillborn son. In light of the tragedy, the king had offered de Bois Héroult an ultimatum. Serve in the forces to redeem his favour, or be banished indefinitely.
Sir James' inquisitive eye slid to the enchanting princess seated slightly behind and to the left of her father. Dressed in a gown of the rarest blue, and elaborately beaded, the princess looked the part of debonair royalty, although her wide dark eyes and curious expression got the better of her.
He let out a quiet chuckle as she readjusted the circlet of delicate brass about her young head.
"Daughter, come. Will you offer our old friend a kiss in show of our good faith."
It was not a request. Startled, Marie stood and stepped forward, towards the tall and rugged-looking stanger. Even on the tips of her slippered toes, she could not reach his mouth, but gentlemanly, he stooped to receive her offering.
As her unskilled lips touched his, he felt a spark like that of lightning pass between them. He was close enough to see that curious sparkle, dimmed a little by shock, and scent the woven wildflowers from her sweet-haired head.
Shyly, she blushed a little and averted her eyes as the court applauded.
In the adjoining banquet hall, The long table was abundant with a great many glazen dishes; jeweled meats, golden-crusted pies, a number of soups and stews, freshly baked breads in intricately plaited designs, cheeses, baskets brimming with fruit, and a whole, bronzed suckling pig. There were even such delicacies Marie had never laid eyes on before; stuffed swans and pheasants, colored sculptures of marzipan, and the largest iced gingerbread cake she'd ever seen.
Many earthenware jugs of muscadine wine from the southern regions were being passed from hand to hand, as servants brought forth mugs of honeyed meade and foaming tankards of beer. All the while, the court minstrels sang merrily, and played the lute and harp.
No expense had been spared in welcoming home the soldiers. Expense, Marie had heard the servents whispering, that the crown could not afford.
From the light thrown by many candles and the blazing fire in the heath, Marie curiously peered at Sir James while he spoke to her father across the table from her, smoking a long pipe of mallowsweet. She thought he was attractive in his own way. He had untidy but pleasantly colored sable hair that fell about his shoulders, a straight nose, and a wide mouth that smiled rarely. When she glanced up and happened to catch his gaze, he offered her that smile, and she blushed prettily.
She knew not that knights were ignoble in their pursuits, but catered to their own fancies while serving their duty to king and country, that a knight did not know honor in that of the familial way. She only knew of that which story books told; of chivalry and the adventure calling from far-off lands.
For Sir James was not an honorable man. He was already having lascivious thoughts concerning the young princess and had spent the evening dreaming up situations in which to get her alone.
After the court had eaten, the tables were pushed aside and dances were to be had. Marie knew the dances for she had learned them as part of her education, but never had she had opportunity to practice with someone who wasn't her tutor or maid.
"My lady, may I have your hand in this dance."
It was Sir James. He had removed his cumbersome armor and chainmail, and what lay underneath was quite pleasing indeed. His broad chest was outfitted in a smart deep blue quilted tunic and tightened at his tapered waist with a thin strip of leather.
"That would be welcome, good Sir."
As he took her small hand in his and led her to the center of the room, he said in a lowly voice, "You must call me James."
The music started up and other couples danced around them in a joyous way, weaving and ducking around each other. Princess Marie and Sir James were separated for a time before meeting back in their starting positions.
"Sir, I beg thee. It is not proper," She began to protest but he cut across her.
"Dear lady, you must allow me this indulgence."
Marie, taking James by the hand swung back into his arms, "How can one call you by your Christian name if I may not be called by mine?"
"And what shall I call you?" this was followed by another wide arching swing.
"My name is Marie."
"And what a beautiful name that is, my princess."
As the dance finished, Marie curtseyed to Sir James before seeking a chilled cup of cider. To her astonishment, and secret pleasure, he had followed.
"Sir James, you should not follow me so. You may insight talk."
He lifted a hand and gently brushed back the hair from her blooming cheek, "How could one resist another as sweet as a culver?"
Such tender words made her complexion grow all the more pink.
Sir James had never before been so captivated by a lady. Her innocence of the way of men pleased him greatly. The way she gazed upon him, with unveiled reverie and quizzical delight. Lord, would she make a wonderful wife. Eagar to satisfy. Unchallenging. Yielding.
Although Sir James did not want a wife. He had been down that route before and it had caused nothing but suffering. Lady Jean had not been of childbearing figure, too lithe and suffering ill-health. Carrying his child had weakened her greatly, and although he'd loved her in his own way, Sir James had not been faithful. While his ailing wife lay bedridden, he'd been visiting taverns and stewhouses all over Europe. Perhaps it was fair fortune dealing out what he was due.
He knew such a young lady, especially a princess, would never offer herself to him willingly unless there was promise of marriage. He would indeed have to be very cunning to get the princess alone in his bedchamber.
The next morning, Princess Marie awoke to a sore head from overindulgence in the alcoholic beverages the evening before. Never had she been allowed to partake in the drink before and now she thought she did not much like it.
There was a soft knock on her door, and Marie, expecting the maid, called for her entry.
"Good morrow, my lady."
"Sir James," She pulled the coverlet about her, dressed only in her white cotton nightgown, chastising herself regarding modesty. However, it was most improper for a gentleman caller to visit her bedchamber, and she had not been expecting such a visitor.
"Are you quite well? I was hoping to escort you on a morning outing but it seems you've taken to your bed."
A little embarrassed, Marie smiled, "Well, I have not yet arisen."
"May I?" Sir James inquired, inclining his head towards the room.
With a pounding heart, Marie nodded once.
He stepped into the room, closing the heavy door behind him. One of the small mullioned windows had been left ajar and a cool morning breeze floated through her tower room.
"It was indeed a good thing you retired early evening last. Some of my men displayed behavior unbecoming for womanly eyes."
A still startled Marie only blinked while Sir James perused the bedchamber, taking in the woven hangings and the magnificent bed in which the princess lay tinily.
"Sir, I must inquire as to your demeanor. You are quite forward."
As she spoke, he walked silently and perched on the coverlet.
"My lady, let me offer you insight. For many months, I have been away at battle, for crown, for country. Never knowing if I will return. If that day will be my last."
Marie's heart sped at his lowered words and close proximity. He was close enough she could notice the fine growth of beard hair that was not detectable evening last, smell pleasantly his breath, scented like clove and anise.
"You cannot imagine the terror of battle. The stench of bodies as they burn in the fields. Unknowing if it will be you some other time who lies in a ditch, stripped of your amour and honor."
His tone was somber but as he looked upon the princess, he could not help the soft feeling unfurling within his chest. He took one of her delicate hands within his own, marveling at the difference in size as it was enveloped in his larger one. He placed her fingertips against the warm flesh of his neck so she might feel the strong, steady beating of his heart.
"That is why I live each day as if it were my last."
He was upon her then, mouth moving against her sweet lips. Marie released a small squeak of surprise before surrendering into the kiss. Sir James kissed down her neck, moving aside the wide gathered neckline of her nightgown to suckle her breast. Marie, never having experienced such satisfaction before moaned in bliss.
Before his body could continue with the act, Sir James pulled himself away.
"My dear, sweet girl. I pray we shall stop."
She could think of nothing other to say than, "But I don't want to."
He'd already taken more from her than a woman should give away so freely to her husband on their wedding night. He should have left her untouched and pure. Although he'd done little more than sample her tender flesh, he felt as if he'd done something of ill repute. Being caught alone together in, nether the less in such a compromising position, was enough to ruin her reputation. The poor girl knew not of the world and its wicked ways.
Of which, the forewarning from before was coming to fruition.
A call in the yard brought their attention, the King had been captured in the revolt and the peasant army were on their way to seize the princess.
With a cry of shock, Marie ran over to the window. In the hazy, dull morning light she could make out guards being slain, overcome with the sheer amount of enraged villagers. Panicked, she turned back to Sir James.
"Sir, I beg of thee. Please, take me away with you."
He sighed heavily, knowing it was to come to this. Knowing that whatever she asked of him, he would not be able to refuse. It is true he did not want a wife, but taking a maiden away from her home to save her from what was sure to be a violent death, was by far a worse outcome for the both of them. If he left her, the blood would be on his hands.
"I warn you now, you've never seen such suffering and poverty outside of the castle, my lady. Life would be miserable. I promise you that."
"More miserable than my head on a pike?" she replied. For she was certain that was to be the fate of her father. Marie was sick with worry at the thought of her ladies, the kind young women who assisted and kept her company all the days. She prayed they would be spared such a horrible fate.
She had a point. Sir James knew, for once, that he needed to make the honorable decision.
Not more than a half hour later, Princess Marie was atop Sir James' valiant steed as they galloped away across the fields she had until only then seen from afar.
Robed in a simple gown and cloak, not one of the villagers knew she was the princess as she made her escape.
Heading a place not either of them knew where, carrying only what they could on their person, they continued in the morning light onwards, towards the promise of a new future, however unknown.