Rating NC-17 for violence, strong sexual content, violence, and rape. Not intended for minors.

Characters: Chris Jericho, Randy Orton, Dave Batista, Maria, Trish Stratus, Torrie Wilson, John Cena and any one who comes along.

Disclaimer: The characters are based off of the likenesses and the names of WWE Superstars. I do not own them, nor am I getting anything other than feedback from using them in my story. I do not intend to disrespect anyone.

Author's Note: This is my first attempt at an AU story. The characters look like and have the same names of the people in the WWE, however, this is set in a fictious country during the Middle Ages. I came up with this idea because I am obsessed with that time period and really, I wanted a story where Randy was a bad guy and I miss Jericho!

With that, I hope you enjoy it. Please review!

The Concubine

Prologue

There was trouble and she knew it. Why else would all of the men in the village be running around like they were? Something was about to happen and she knew there was nothing she could do to change it.

Looking out of her window, Maria watched the rich green grass bend with each gust of wind. It was fall; it should have been the beginning of the harvest. But with the men acting as they were, she knew that in a matter of days she and the other women would have the task of picking in the fields to prepare for winter.

A knock on the cottage door, pulled her from her daydreaming. The sinking in her gut told her what was about to happen. She had known for weeks about the pending uprising. Her father, being the leader of the rebellion, often held meetings in their modest home once he thought that his daughters were asleep. But what Maria would stay awake and listen to them talk.

If only the Grand Prince Randal would provide for his people…there wouldn't be so much unrest. If King Robert of Orton were in good health, he would make sure that the people had food. He would see to it that his people were protected from invasions from King Jeffrey of Jarrett. But as it stood, the royal house sat in wait for the king to die. If King Robert died, that would mean that the Grand Prince would become king and the country of McMahon, would be at the mercy of a madman.

"Christopher." She whispered and stepped aside to let him in. "What brings you here this close to supper?"

Christopher's blonde hair was tattered from the wind, but it didn't change his beauty. He was arguably the most attract man in the village. His tall frame and muscular build made him the desire of many of the young women in the land. His brilliant blue eyes always sparkled and held a bit of mischief, but she had lost herself in those maddening blue orbs so many times before. Although he had a cocky disposition, he was delightful man…a man that she was to marry.

"My love…I needed to see you before I left." Christopher stepped inside the cottage and closed the wooden door. "We are ready, we are to storm Lord David's castle tonight."

Christopher's words were hurried but he quickly tried to settle himself when he saw the worry on Maria's face. He knew he was breaking her heart, but this was something that had to done. A message had to be sent to Prince. He had to know that the peasants wouldn't stand for this mistreatment anymore.

"You can't go…I fear if you leave, you'll never come back to me." Maria immediately wrapped her arms around her love and held on to him for all that he was worth. "We can leave, Christopher. We can leave tonight."

Christopher touched Maria's hair and held her close. "I would love nothing better than to run away with you. But think of it…where would we go? All of this land is governed by the Prince and beyond the Champion River; it is governed by King Jeffery. We'd leave from one hell and walk straight into another."

"But we could try." Maria desperately said. Her mind was spinning, Christopher was right; there was no where they could go.

Christopher stood up to his height and looked down at his betrothed. Gently he stroked her long brown hair and gazed into her deep brown eyes. "I know that you are frightened, but do not worry. I will return to you." He smiled at her, never letting his voice go above a whisper. "We have a promise made by the bonds of love, a promise that I intend to keep."

Maria took his hands in her own. "I could not live if you were hurt. This is not our fight, Christopher. Don't let my father force you to do this."

Christopher dropped her hands and ran his through his own hair. "Do you not think that I'm good enough? I am the fiercest swordsmen on Lord David's land. I have been sought after for his army for months. You do not believe that I could defeat a few soldiers outside of his gate?"

The gentle whistling from the kettle turned Maria's attention away from Christopher. She hurried over to remove it and began to pour him tea. "I do not doubt your skill, but I pose this question to you. What is more important? Proving your worth with a sword or your love for me and family that we will one day have?"

"Do not make me make that choice. No son from the House of Jericho has ever retreated from battle. We have been fighting against the monarch for hundreds of years and now, with my skill, we finally have a chance to win. Don't you see…I am to do this for you and for our future family?"

Maria stood by the fire log and let her head fall. There was nothing she could say to stop him from this fight. "But Lord David has not wronged us."

"It does not matter. He is an Arch Duke for the king. He is third in line for the Thrown. As it stands, we do not have the numbers to take on the Crown, but we can send a message by taking over the Lord's manner."

Tears were on the verge of spilling. "Please…please do not go." Maria begged as she turned to Christopher's soft gaze. "I shall not be able to live without you."

Knowing that he would never convince her that this needed to be done, Christopher walked toward her and gently put the kettle back down. "Hear this now; I love you. I will always love you and I will come back for you." He titled her head to meet his eyes and placed a gentle kiss upon her lips. "You will see, the grass will be greener and the lakes will be bluer because once this is done, you will know that our love was enough to bring me to you from war."

"Christopher!" Maria yelled as he walked out of the door.

With a gentle smile he turned back to her. "I do this for the House of Jericho, but most of all, I do it for love."

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Lord David huffed as he hurried through the halls of the palace to the Thrown Room. He hated to be summoned, but more than that, he hated the Prince. He was quite content, to stay on his own land and tend to the needs of his people. But he knew that guards coming to his castle in the middle of the night for a meeting with the Thrown could only mean one thing.

"Your Excellency, the Arch Duke David of the House of Batista has finally arrived." The Earl of Helmsley said with a sarcastic smile.

Making his presence know, the Prince stood and wrapped his flowing blue cloak around him. "Arch Duke, we do not like to be kept waiting. We have a matter to discuss and time is not something that we can afford to waste."

David's lips curled as he looked at the younger man in front of him. "I am sorry cousin, had you sent your brigade to collect me at a more decent hour, I would have been here sooner."

Prince Randal narrowed his gaze and fixed it squarely on David's eyes. "Are you suggesting that the Prince has no right to demand to see his favorite cousin, whenever the mood strikes him?"

The room suddenly fell silent as the other Dukes and Earls at the table held their collective breaths. It was no secret that the Prince and Arch Duke were not in each other's graces. Both men were fiercely competitive and both men were equally proud. They bore a striking resemblance to each other. They were both dark men, with black hair and hard eyes. Randal's eyes glowed a vibrant blue, that was most uncommon for any son of the House of Orton. His eyes were young and in them, anyone could see a child desperate to be respected. David's eyes were the color of the other kings, a dark brown that held wisdom and power. Both were tall, with Lord Dave only surpassing the Prince by an inch, they were both very strong and adorned with hard muscles and tattoos that they had earned from many battles. David's build out shined Randal's for the years in age he had on the young Prince, provided him with more experience. Battles for sport and for honor had been fought before the Prince was even able to hold a sword. David's form was work of art; one that the Prince was jealous of.

The difference between them was that the Prince's cruelty knew no bounds. His only concern was himself and the betterment of his wealth, whereas David was only harsh to those who deserved. Let it not be mistaken that Lord David was kind man, for he was not. But, he had been known to show compassion, which is something that the Prince thought was unheard of.

"I am suggesting nothing, Your Highness. My lateness was of no fault of yours." David's answer was curt but he refused to lose his temper in front of the entire council.

"Very well…we have a situation growing," Randal walked around the table and rested his hands on David's shoulders. "It appears the House of Jericho is sending forth the youngest son to kill you. Being the benevolent leader that I am, I can not allow that to happen." He bent down to David's ear and whispered, "No matter how much I may want him to." Patting David again, he continued to walk. "I want you to stop the rebellion, by any means you see fit."

David's eyes rolled on their own accord. "You dragged me here from my warm bed, to tell me that some peasants are going to try to invade my castle? I can deal with peasants, Your Highness, what I can not deal with is wasting the Council's time on trivial matters."

Randal's response was calm and with a smile. "Perhaps, the Arch Duke has forgotten that he his but third in line for the crown. It is not his place to speak on what is wrong or right for the Council, only the King has that right."

"Well perhaps, His Eminence has forgotten that he is not the Crown, yet." David refused to raise his voice, but the hatred toward his cousin was quickly becoming unchecked.

Randal's face turned red. "Hear this one time. The Prince is not happy with you Lord David. You have failed to stop the uprising of the people on your land for far too long. An attack on your life means nothing to me…but because you are our family, an attack on you means an attack against the House of Orton. I want you to kill all of the rebels. Is that so hard for the once fierce gladiator to do or is the Arch Duke afraid that a few peasants might actually win?"

David stood to his full 6'5" height and looked down on the shorter Prince. "You hear this now…you are not King yet. When my uncle gives me word that I need to kill some insolent peasants, then the House of Batista will be ready. Until then, I do not take orders from a spoiled child, playing at King."

Just as Lord David stood to walk out of the meeting, the Prince yelled through clinched teeth. "You will kill all of the peasants, but you are to bring Sir Christopher to me. That is an order, from your king."

David's head hung as he turned around to face the Prince. "And what do I get of the slaughter of the poor?"

With a smile, Randal replied. "You get the spoils of war, cousin."

Turning quickly on his heel, David stepped to the door. "It will be done, Your Grace."

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Fifteen men lay dead on the ground beside him, yet Christopher could not figure why he had been spared. The once green grass outside the gate of Lord David's castle was stained red with blood. They had walked into a slaughter and none of the rebels were prepared. Someone in the rebel army must of have been a traitor, that was only way that the Arch Duke could have known.

The battle had been a swift one. Cloaked in darkness, the castle guards quickly overtook the rebels, killing them in the vilest of ways. They all knew that this might be the last battle that they would ever see, but none knew that the Duke himself would be fighting along side his men.

Christopher rolled painfully onto his side as he felt the blood flowing from him. Squinting, he looked up to see the huge form of Lord Dave standing over him.

"It appears that you are blessed this night, for I am not to kill you." David said as he dug the tip of his sword deeper in Christopher's side. "But if you were to die with the rest of you rebel dogs, that would be someone amusing to me."

Christopher could only concentrate on the pain he was feeling, not in his side, but in his heart. "Please, my lord. Kill me now, don't make me suffer."

A hearty laugh escaped David's throat. "Suffer? You have not begun to suffer. For, if it were my choice, you would have been dead before you dismounted your steed. But as it stands, the Prince wants you for himself."

Christopher's mind raced. Prince Randal was known to be sadistic; there would be end to the torture that he would endure. "Please my lord, you owe me nothing for I tried to kill you. But, as man who hates the Crown as much as your people do, you can not turn me over to him."

"And why would I listen to man that wanted me dead?" David whispered as he lowered himself to the ground. He sat beside Christopher's bleeding body still pushing the blade deeper into his flesh.

A shuttered whence of pain escaped Christopher's mouth. He was becoming delirious, the pain was overwhelming and the blood loss was far too much. "She will never understand, why I did not return to wed her, if I am not dead."

"Who would not understand?" David asked slowly rocking the sword back and forth, hearing the ribs beneath the blade crack.

"Maria." Christopher gasped before passing out.

With a satisfied smile, David withdrew his blade and turned to his knight. "Sir Jonathan, go to the village and find Christopher's Maria. Bring her to me. She is my bounty for the deliverance of young Christopher."