The Stronghold of March

A muffled groan escapes from her lips. Pain shoots through her neck as she tries to move. A hand reaches and slides gently through her hair, which only makes her jump. Her wrists are tugged at by restraints of some kind. They're not soft. She then realizes she cannot see. The events of the evening return to her and her body tenses.
"Hush now my dear," a slow deep voice whispers. She hears the rustling of sheets and feels the dip as the someone moves closer.
"You really should thank me, love." He drawls on. All she can contribute is muffled moans and squirms.
A hum of light laughter fills the space around her. "I wouldn't move around so much if I were you. You're going through quite the list of body changes right now sweetheart. Want me to tell you how the rest of your life will play out?"
She remains silent. She feels a hand brush her cheek and into her hair undoing the knot around her blindfold. A shiver falls over her. As she opens her eyes, nothing changes. It is to dark to see anything, except the golden eyes peering down at her.