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It was dark and damp, and you had no idea where you were. The last thing you remembered was taking a stroll in the garden before something knocked you over the head.
From somewhere close, there were deep, hushed voices conversing, but you couldn't make out what they were saying. Five, maybe six men? What was going on?
Standing up from the floor, you held your hands out to feel what was around you. First, the coolness of stone met your fingertips, and then the harshness of rusted metal bars. A cell. Feeling around more, you found the door and tugged experimentally, but it barely moved. Then you tried once more with as much strength as you could muster. Nothing but the rattle of metal on metal.
With the commotion you had caused with the door, you hadn't noticed that the voices had stopped. The sound of footsteps met your ears before a large, heavy, wooden door was pushed open, and warm light was let in. A tall, gruff-looking man entered; the furs covering his body made him look large, intimidating.
"Princess," he started, accent thick and unfamiliar to you. "Do not try to escape, it is impossible. The only way you are getting out of here is if your King pays our ransom or we kill you."
You should have been terrified, yet you were calm. Heart beat steady, mind at ease. "He will come for me, you know."
"Yes, we are hoping for that," the man laughed.
"I don't think you understand, sir. Whatever you think is going to happen, it won't. You will receive no money, but you are right about one thing… I will leave here because of death, although it won't be my own."
"Ha- you think your husband is capable of defeating my men and me? We outnumber him greatly."
With a roll of your eyes, you scoff, "You are sorely underestimating him. He will kill you, and I can't wait to hear you begging for mercy."
The man stood straight, face contorting into rage. He stalked toward the cell door, unlocking it—you backed further into your cage, heart skipping a sudden beat. Your captor raised his right arm and backhanded you across your face. Your own hand flew up to hold the offended cheek. Heaf rose as it started to throw.
"How dare you?" you spat.
He narrowed his eyes. "I will break your will, Princess. No one likes an outspoken woman." He raised his hand once again, yet before he could strike, a scream rebounded through the stone walls of the dungeon.
More screams and shouts followed as chaos erupted from far away, and then you heard the bellow of your name.
"I told you he would come and by the shound of your men… I was right about that, too."
"Men, go see what is happening." He called out, and you heard whoever was outside the dungeon door sprint away.
You watched him closely, looking for an opening, a way out. He had left the cell wide open, and when there was a sudden crash and a resounding, rage-filled battle cry from your husband, he twisted his head around to look. You took the brief distraction as your opening.
Your protection was always on your husband's mind, and as a result of his worrying, you had been taught how to defend yourself.
With one swift movement, you reached over the man's head and pulled the fur coat over his head. Disoriented, it was easy for you to kick at his leg, making him fall. Once he was down, you took your chance to run.
It was hard to run in a thick, woolen winter dress. You were carrying an extra twenty pounds of fabric, all in the form of flowing skirts and slightly restraining stays.
"Vlad!" You called out for your husband as you barreled down the corridor. "Vlad, where are you!"
There was no answer, but you knew he was close; you could feel it, him.
In a flurry of fabric, you rounded the corner fast, only to stumble into a hard mass.
You husband.
"My beloved." He sighed, head dipping for a kiss.
You clung to him, relieved, kissing him sweetly.
"Let me look at you." He pulled away, eyes narrowed in assessment. His bloodied fingers slightly caressed your slowly brushing cheek. "This… who did this?"
You opened your mouth to reply only to be interrupted by fast-approaching footsteps.
The man who had captured you appeared from around the corner, only to stop short once he realized who was in front of him.
Vlad's eyes cut from you. It was amazing how they could go from soft and loving to whatever vicious rage burned in them as he looked at the man.
"You hit my wife." His words seethed out. In a swift motion, he pulled his sword from its sheath.x
The man scoffed. "The bitch deserved it."
"Be careful how you speak."
"I'll kill you."
Vlad only laughed. "You are very funny if you think that." Slowly. He began stalking forward, letting your hands fall away from him.
Whether it was bravery or stupidity, the man stood his ground, sword glinting in the torchlight as he drew it.
Vlad's steps were confident, easy as he approached. Those were the steps of a man who had gon into battle hundreds of times, who had killed without mercy, and this time would be no different, especially with you involved.
When your husband came into range of your captor, the other man lunged, biting at the bit. His movements were sloppy, and Vlad dodged him effortlessly, parrying the action and swiping the man's sword to the side
The fight was almost amusing to you, as your husband looked like a cat playing with its food. He was fast, outperforming his opponent in every instant; no wonder his men called him The Dragon.
It was fast, a blink, and you might have missed it
The fight was fierce and fast, and both men a blur to you. You couldn't help but gasp when the assailant came within inches of slicing your husband's neck.
Then, Vlad grabbed the mans sword hand and brought his own forward, sinking the metal into the soft flesh of the stomach.
You watched as the man fell to his knees clutching the wound. Vlad wasted no time turning on his heel to rush to you.
He dropped his sword at his feet before clutching you to him.
The blood on his hands felt sticky against your face and neck but it didn't bother you, all you could think of was him, how he had come for you, how he killed for you, how he saved you.
"I- Vlad-"
"It is alright my dear, I'm here." He spoke in a hushed tone, lips so close to your own.