It was a tricky thing, facing a dragon.

As much as Aldebrand had studied the art of it, no one in his family had stood against a dragon before.  At least, not in his lifetime.

He sensed that vanquishing such a creature would require all of his art, and he invested himself fully into the lashing of the beast.   

It was not easy.  The dragon immediately made noises of complaint.  No beast of such magnificence desired to face an inept duelist.  Aldebrand pressed on, though, tasting the heat of their combat upon his tongue, lapping it up with all the skill he held within him.  The instruction of years gone by came to his mind: 

"Predictability is boring.  If you slash in one direction, then the next time, slash the other way.  Press on, pull back, circle, thrust."

His instructor had traced a finger 'round and over a soft target to demonstrate.  Aldebrand had watched avidly.  Now, he put the lesson to task.

The beast began to squirm, to make noises that weren't words.  Was this good?  He knew not, but he pressed on.

The taste of combat was thrilling.  The heat of the dragon smothered and delighted in equal measure.  It was hard to catch a breath as the dragon met his every exploratory swipe with a powerful counter-thrust.  Its scales were slick, and he might have slid carelessly from his goal had the beast not begun to match him, to almost guide their dance.  

Aldebrand's heart pounded.  He couldn't breathe.  Lifting his head to gasp, he found the creature's claws in his hair, forcing his head back into the plunging contest.

A roar erupted from the dragonness!  Had he brought it to its end? 

It thrashed, perhaps thinking to shake him loose.  He would not be cast aside so easily!  Holding the monster with both hands, he pressed in even as he became light-headed with the need to breathe.  He rode its thrashing body, heard the song of its roar rising and falling and rising again.  

Till at last he lifted up.  Climbed up from betwixt the creature's mighty thighs so that he stared right into its eyes. 

Savage eyes, yet wide with surprise.  The beast seemed as breathless as he.

Aldebrand's lance was ready.   More than ready.  He thrust it home, even as the dragon's mouth and slithering tongue found his face, and they sought to consume each other.

He pulled the lance and plunged anew.  Again and again. 

Now it was his roar that sounded a cacophony in their battlefield.

Gushing fluid proved the mark made.  His back arched, his weapon going deeper and harder, drawing forth the pleasure of this kill as he'd never managed before while practicing alone.

He shuddered.  He fell, exhausted upon the creature.

Both slain, together.   

Both reborn, together.

Gasping together, with a life re-writ.

Moist with sweat and the sweet release of this mortal contest.

"I love you," he whispered.  As preposterous as such words must be, they were wholly true in this glorious moment.  His mind was awash with the heady brew of victory, and all shadow of logic had been blasted away by this dragon's firelight.  For one rare moment in a lifetime of pragmatism, Aldebrand was all emotion, without an ounce of intellect.  And so he spoke from that chaotic place, where pleasure equated to all things good and noble and right.  He was in love, a fool's love.  Whether it would last forever or expire with his next exhalation was the guess of Gods, and quite beyond his mortal ken.

"You are a worthy wife."

"I loved it, too" 

Aldebrand's brow creased very slightly at this.  But she'd probably misheard him.  He carried on, until...

Oh!" she said, sitting up "Good Sir Knight. You must realise that I cannot wed any man. For I have foresworn to marry as a member of the Jade Empresses personal guard. I..."

Now that crease became a furrow.  "What do you mean you are foresworn against marriage?  You proposed our alliance, and then proposed our marriage.  I assume you would not have done so without your Empresses' consent and even at her suggestion.  You accepted my ring.  And we vigorously consummated the arrangement!  A gesture, I assume, so that neither of us could step away from the deal once struck.  A gentleman could hardly back away from a union after such a... gesture.   A very kind and welcome gesture, too."

"This... this means marriage to your people?" she asked. She tried to pull it off: it would not budge. "What sorcery is this?!" she asked tersely.

He sat up more fully in bed, "Yes.  I said as much.  We give rings to our intended.  I admit this procession of events had unorthodox rapidity, but it seemed logical given the diplomatic crisis we are working to avert."

She jumped up off the bed. "What have I done? What have I done?!" she asked herself in anguished tones.

Aldenrand was beginning to become genuinely offended and more than a little bit despairing that this was the result of a union he'd felt to be so glorious mere moments ago.   "I have no firm knowledge of your noble ranking, but I stand to inherit the title of Marquis of Salain.  Surely that is an adequate match.  I do not understand your consternation and objections to this arrangement after-the-fact.  It is not as though you were swept away in emotion.

Well... not before, anyway."

He stood up from the bed and gestured vaguely at his... lance.

"If there was some inadequacy, I assure you it will be addressed.  I strive to perfect everything that I do, and I do not suffer my ego to impede my performance.  Merely explain the issue plainly and I shall repair it on our next bedding.  Indeed, I shall practice upon you every night until the technique matches whatever you require. "

Perhaps there were anatomical differences between Gaelic women and normal human females.  He should have thought of that.  But he'd never anticipated a Gaelic match, and he had no idea where in Brydd he could have found a Gaelic whore even if he'd wanted one.

Aldebrand's mouth fell agape, and his voice was filled with fury at the person who had insulted his bride, "You are GORGEOUS, and I'll have the eyes of anyone who insinuates otherwise, for surely they have no use for such an organ!"

In his outburst- a rare one for him- he had somehow overlooked that the person who'd insulted his wife was... his wife.  The merest hint that she was anything but fair, even spoken as an accusation, was enough to ignite Warfire in his heart.

He stopped for a moment, then, surprised at his own reaction.  Some men could bed a woman without a second thought or a further scintilla of concern.  Apparently, he was the other kind.

"When you proposed," he managed at last in a calmer tone, if no less wounded one, "that we share a bed, I did not for a moment think you took either of us for a harlot or wanton, to spend such an affair so casually and name it mere smoke to rise into the wind and be forgotten.  No.  I am a Son of Salain, and what I do matters."

He lifted his chin and stood at full height, jutting his chest out with the confident and sure manner that only a noble could possess.  For their will and words did actually shape the world around them, and they must consequently think themselves to hold an ounce of Godhood.

"We are wed.  And we will investigate these doings as a team.  As husband and wife.  And we will have children who will be the delight to both our Houses.  And from this love, peace is assured.  For we will defend it with every ounce of our strength and every drop of our blood.  You accepted me into your bed.  My sword into your sheath.  My ring upon your finger.   This is a love match, and one that shall serve love of Kingdom just as ably.  Why, it was surely fated to be, as the divine power guides us away from the calamity we were set to.

You and I, my dear Lady Wynn, are the warriors who will conquer the misdeeds of men and monsters.  

You are indeed my wife.  And I your husband.

Or will you name a Son of Salain as a dishonored and dishonorable cad who misused a noble Lady of House... of House..."

He paused, his bold and passionate declarations interrupted by his ludicrous ignorance of the woman he'd just lain with.

"I don't actually know your House name.  But whatever it is, I will not be seen to have dishonored it!"

There.

The matter was settled.

He had spoken.

our... liaison nothing more than that. It may continue it may not: but have no fear that I shall seek another, I want no other but you."

Aldebrand was momentarily speechless at the contradiction he felt in the statement.   If she wanted no other, why object to the natural consequence of marriage?  Did people carry on exclusive affairs without getting married?  What was the point of that?  You would get the sex, but lose all of the ancillary benefits that came with an official union.  Not to mention your honor. 

By contrast, their marriage could help close the rifts between Salain and Gael.  Lower the tensions between Brydd and Gael.  Theirs could be one of the great unions that brought an end to decades of conflict and distrust.  Why not embrace that with both hands, as he'd embraced her-

But she was near.  And speaking sweetly.  And so his tongue was stilled for the moment.

When the topic turned round to her House, her response was most odd.

"Well... my love..." she said shyly, twiddling the hairs on his chest "It all depends on what you mean by 'House' doesn't it? I mean... a turf hut is a sort of a house, is it not? And are not the hardy turf cutters of The Fenlands 'noble' in their endeavors to fuel the heaths of Gaelic homes?!"

Aldebrand's face was once more- as it had often been during their talk- a mask of confusion.  Then he realized the problem.  She was not speaking in her native tongue.  However well mastered a language might be, understanding would never be as whole and entire as with the language you'd been born into.

"Yes, I suppose.  But I speak of noble Houses.  Anointed by the divine or by deed.  That is how it is with we Bryddic. 

Our great noble houses descend from the leaders of religious adherents who migrated to our lands long ago.  Their bloodlines were blessed, having received and accepted the wisdom of God.  Hence they were anointed, carrying the authority and responsibility of guiding the peoples of the Kingdom. 

But not all is blood alone.  Deeds tell, also.  It is within the power of the great families to recognize greatness among common men and great men alike, and to bestow a share of their anointed authority.  A single man or woman could be so elevated, or even their eldest children for all eternity.  This is how Knights come to be. 

Even I, who would have held no official noble title until that sad day when my father should pass.  I worked worthy deeds as a squire, and was recognized and elevated as a Knight.  If my father should, by the grace of God, live forever-"  He closed his eyes for a moment in silent prayer, "that is an independent honor and authority I can carry because in our country, merit is valued alongside the blood."

It was clear he truly believed in what he was saying.  Anyone familiar with nobility understood that blood carried much more weight than meritorious action, and his Knighthood was as likely due to nepotism as any 'worthy deeds.'  A gifted stepping stone on the way to the further authority he would later inherit.  But these were among the lies which even honest men told themselves in the Kingdom of Brydd.  The ounce of merit made the pound of un-earned privilege a thing that could be swallowed.

"So when I speak of a House, these are the things I mean.  The anointed and earned honors accumulated to yourself and your family, not the physical home you live in.  Toiling in fields is honest and good work, but it does not bear the privileges and responsibilities of guiding the people.  A peasant may have his own family, his own House of a kind, but it is the nobles who carry the weight of responsibility upon their shoulders.  The weight of supporting part of the Kingdom and managing those very peasants who toil mightily under the proper Houses' careful guidance."

He placed a hand on her shoulder, feeling the almost magical pull of her allure once more.  It was wise that God had built men so that they were spent for a time after lovemaking.  Otherwise, he should surely be tempted to spend every moment of the day plunging deep into her folds.  Thank God for recognizing the weakness of human beings, and hobbling their ability to waste their lives on such endless pleasure.

"This is a mighty keep, but it is your Home, not your House, if that makes sense.  I realize we have differing native tongues, so it is a natural misunderstanding."

He was quite content that he'd explained everything well enough.  

"And so.  We show courtesy, honor, and even solemnity for the bond we exchanged by creating this marital union of our noble Houses.  Not Homes.  Not buildings.  No.  It is far greater, what we do.  We entwine our two bloodlines into a common cloth, unifying the gifts God gave our Houses with the greatest deeds of Aereth.  We weave a cloth that shall act as a bandage to the wounds both our peoples have suffered."

He pulled her closer, and it turned out that God may not have tempered Aldebrand's ardor quite well enough.

"By the grace of God, our marriage may save two worlds. 

The mighty roiling, gasping, shouting, sweaty pleasure accompanying our union is surely God's gift to us for doing such a good thing for the world.  A gift it shall be my pleasure to open with you alone, each night in our bedchamber, or against a tree while on campaign, or perhaps upon the cot in a command tent.  Or..."  He trailed off, realizing he was losing his focus.  "As often as we are able. 

For when God pours you a wine at his table, it is surely blasphemy not to drink, and drink deeply."

His breathing was growing deeper, too.   But he had not abandoned practical concerns.

"We should identify the rankings of our respective Houses.  It will need to be known which has primacy.  I suppose we shall be mere consort spouses in our respective countries.  So when I attain the March, you will be my Marquessa Consort.  And in your lands, I would be..."

He trailed off again, this time not due to distraction.  He still had no idea what lands or titles may have accrued to her in her nation, or how the nobility there actually worked.

Aldebrand opened his mouth.  

Then closed it again.

Then he opened it a second time. 

But no sound issued forth.

His mind was having trouble processing what she'd just told him.  Pieces that ought to be fitting together just... weren't.

Finally, he managed to stammer, "But... you have this keep.   And I've seen your armor and arms.  And... you serve in the Empress' personal... what did you call it?"

He shook his head, "No commoner can achieve such things.  Your armor alone is worth the lifetime earnings of dozens of peasants."

He reached out with his left hand, so that he was holding her by both of her shoulders as he looked into her eyes.

"You must at least be a Knight?"  The correct term was Dame, but he was not thinking correctly at the moment.

He was reeling with these revelations.  His dream of a noble marriage that might heal ill will was quickly fading.  And yet, that changed little except... for his honor.   He had given Wynn his ring, his word, and his seed.  He could hardly back out, now.  His father and mother would be ashamed of his choices.  He might be disinherited, even.  His Uncle might be named in succession instead.  But even so, the loss of honor would at least allow him some shred of personal dignity.

"I do not know who this is whom you wish to speak to.  A Lord, you say?  Then..."

His confusion was unabated.

"Well, we shall speak to him.  But all the words may run dry in his mouth before I shall consent to see my words rendered worthless.

I may have blundered and lost my inheritance... but I will not sell my personal honor to buy it back.

I am a Knight.  What I do matters.  And I do what I say I shall do."

He tried not to let the sinking feeling in his chest drag him straight into the abyss.

"Let us see your kinsman then, my wife.  And we shall better measure what the future holds for Our House."

Perhaps they'd form a cadet House that branched apart from House Salain.  Perhaps he could yet earn a heritable Knighthood as a Ritter if his father disinherited him.  Then their children would not be commoners.  He could throw himself into every danger, storm every breach, fight every pirate, and kill every scoundrel until his fame reached the ears of even the King himself. 

All was not lost.   

There were still things they could do.

He leaned in, pressed his lips to hers, and then stepped back to get dressed.

"I need my armor.   I can't meet a Lord whose kin I wedded while standing dressed like a common sailor."