"Your Grace?" came Hugh's words as she exited the dining chamber
of her father, she scarce even acknowledged him and said, "my
father has granted that you stay in the Red Keep for a further five
days before you return to the battlefield."
"Ummm, okay… erh…"
"Have you not got something to be getting on with husband mine?"
she asked coolly, not wanting to be in his presence a minute longer,
her stomach sickened by what her father had just commanded her to
do. Despite previously quailing when Hugh had been sent away by
her father, all she could now feel was equally sickened by being in
such proximity to Hugh, she wanted away from him, she wanted to
run and run and run and never stop running, to get away from Hugh,
her father and everything that was now her life.
"I, erh, well, no actually….I, I can escort you to wherever you wish to
go your Grace?"
"Very well" she sighed "but first we must return to our chambers."
And with that she strode off, Hugh falling easily into place at her
side, but she kept her eyes and face steadily starting ahead of her.
She could not run away she knew, for there was nowhere for her to
go, nobody she could trust, nobody who would dare defy her father,
and despite her husband's bastard status, few lords would dare defy
him either, on account of his dragon.
Once they had returned to their chambers she went to fetch her
embroidery, noting that the bedsheets had been changed, she found
Hugh standing at the window, looking out at the heavily falling snow.
"Have, have you never seen snow before?" she asked, trying but
failing to keep a sneer from twisting her mouth and her words. At the
same time a part of her could appreciate Hugh, the physicality of
him, standing there, tall and strong, it was just a pity that
circumstances were what they were.
"Oh, erh, yes, I have seen snow before, just not this heavy…"
"Come, I have to go, I trust you will find something to do in my
absence?"
"I, I'm sure I can, yes…"
"We will dine at midday in the dining hall here in the Holdfast. Every
Lord and Knight will be no doubt eager to ask you of the bedding, I
would appreciate if you did not tell them anything…"
"I would never…..I would never Rhaena… and its none of their
fucking business!"
"I have been to a few weddings, and I know that boasting of the
bedding is a common pastime of the groom."
"That will not happen Rhaena, I swear it!" he growled, his fists
tightening with cracks and pops issuing from them.
"It had better not!" She hissed before she turned on her heels and
Hugh scampered to catch up with her. He stayed at her side, along
with four Household guards, as she made her way to her destination,
a scheduled sewing circle that many of the noble born ladies in the
Red Keep attended. She had attended the odd time before she was
wed, but now she needed some mindless gossip and chatter to
sooth her mind.
No doubt her recent wedding night would come up as a subject of
conversation, and she knew that telling the truth would be as fatal as
baring one's neck in a battle to the enemy.
The door opened to the room and the gaggle of ladies fell silent, if
she had been possessed of the necessary courage, or even
motivation, she would have made some sort of a scene of being the
love-struck young bride. But instead, she just dismissed Hugh,
reminding him that she would see him for the midday meal.
Later on, at the midday meal, Hugh, though accosted by numerous
lecherous Lords and Knights, proved his worth when he told some
minor Lordling who had asked him if he had enjoyed bedding her in
a loud voice that 'the next fucker that asks after my good lady wife's
cunt I will burn alive with my dragon!' This had effectively dried up
any conversations on that matter, much to her relief, crude though
his words had been.
Her father had not attended the meal, preferring to eat in his
chambers no doubt, which had probably emboldened the lechers
into asking for salacious details of the bedding in the first place. Her
sewing circle had also been curious as to what had happened, and it
appeared from what certain ladies had said that news of her
outbursts on being bathed this morning had obviously gotten round.
And it infuriated her that this would be a topic of gossip and mirth,
that, that what had happened to her was obviously being discussed
so. It was all so unfair… and everything seemed to be happening to
her without one iota of control on her part. She felt like she was a
leaf being spun by the wind this way and that, driven before gusts to
places she knew nothing of.
Hugh was no help at all, though he did try and make conversation
with her she was in no mood to talk to him, the man at whose mercy
she was effectively at. He was her husband, and he was a tool of her
father, for without her father Hugh would still be some petty Knight
with a few acres of stony, grey soil on Driftmark. Thanks to her father
he was now a Prince and he had been given their name, and to
cement all of this her father had wed her to Hugh. A man who was a
smallfolk bastard not a year and a half ago, who had spent his days
toiling in a blacksmith's forge, and who now was a Prince of the
blood!
And she was expected to accept all of this? To demurely agree to
this, this debasement of her, to agree to allow Hugh to satiate his
lusts in her flesh? To rut inside her like some breast, tearing and
hurting her, uncaring of her wishes? This was what she had to look
forwards to for the rest of her life, bearing Hugh's children and being
expected to be a caring, loving wife?
The dreaded missive to visit with her father had come just after lunch
had ended, where he had remonstrated with her over her
'disgraceful' behavior, and that she acted so in front of smallfolk and
a Septa. Her father had even gone so far as to say that if she had
not been married he would have 'tanned her hide' for her
performance, and he reminded her that her duty was to make Prince
Hugh fall in love with her, to bind him inseparably to the Iron Throne.
'To you' she had corrected her father in her head, not daring to
contradict him when he was this angry. Not daring to contradict him
in any way, for she knew that her father would never accept even the
slightest bit of resistance on her part. Her only avenue to retain some
semblance of control was Hugh, but it appeared that she would have
to spend the rest of her life acting and pretending to suit her father's
wishes. And at that moment she hoped that her father would die
soon, so that she would be free from his control, his dominance.
The afternoon she had spent reading in their chambers, where there
was only a single bedroom, unlike many where there were separate
Ladies and a Lords sleeping chamber. No doubt a deliberate ploy on
her father's part as she watched the snow continue to fall in dreary
sheets, thankful for the fire that burned in the grate and her warm
clothes.
Of Hugh there was no sign, probably for the best she mused, he only
turned up as dusk was settling, several servants accompanying him
with bundles of cloth stacked high in their arms.
Not cloth she realized, clothing for her husband, she rose and
decided to see what fashion disasters Hugh no doubt had committed
by not involving her in choosing a wardrobe.
To her surprise Hugh had not done too badly, several outfits similar
to what he had worn at their wedding, in dark blue, dark green and
several shades of grey, along with several more in black. And even
more interestingly each garment sported subtly different detailing, to
tell them apart, so as to show that Hugh was not wearing the same
garment over and over. That was cleaver she had to admit, or it
might just have been that he purchased the garments from different
tailors who had interpreted his instructions differently. She decided to
be generous and give Hugh the benefit of the doubt.
"I, I like the style and cut" he replied when she caught his gaze
deliberately, an eyebrow raised in question. "The, the cloth
merchants and tailors did not have enough for all of the outfits to be
made in black, hence the different colors… though I did specify red
as the contrasting color for most of them…"
She suppressed a little smile at how nervous Hugh seemed, instead
giving him a quizzical look to prompt him to speak further "I, I don't
really like some of the court fashions for men, so I decided to, well
suit myself… though I did purchase some, what you might call,
traditional garb."
Rifling through the clothing she gave little hums of approval, overall,
not too bad and tolerable at a minimum. And Hugh was probably
right, some of the foppery and finery of court would not suit him and
might even detract from him. It would be better if he dressed in
rather plain garb, though of a well cut and tailored style, and the
materials were first class, running her hands over the fabrics
confirmed that. Silk shirts aplenty, along with what he called silk 'long
jons', silk and woolen socks, a few doublets with various patterns
embroidered across them, nothing obviously related to any sigil of
any House that she knew of. A few pairs of boots, several sets of
smallclothes and a score of cotton and linen shirts rounded out
Hugh's haul, not an altogether bad ensemble, she did not think to
ask how much it had cost, it was of no concern to her really.
Deciding it was worth it she said, "you have done well, I approve",
noting with some glee that Hugh seemed very pleased with her
approval.
"But I would not wear any of the green garments, I'm sure you know
that?" she asked, delighted at the flush or red embarrassment that
colored Hugh's face.
"Erh, well, about that, I, erh…."
"No need to explain yourself" she condescended "just reminding
you…" and she left it at that, leaving Hugh to stand there rather
tongue tied.
"You should change for dinner, mayhaps one of the more traditional
doublets, this scarlet one would match what I plan to wear for dinner"
she announced, injecting a firmness of command into her voice.
Dinner was a rather boring affair, the meal was not as lavish as she
would have expected with her father present, and he seemed
distracted and ill at ease for some reason. She kept Hugh distracted
with small talk and frivolous musings, the great oaf seemed to be
genuinely surprised by how she was acting, and she judged her
mummery to be a success. But inside her she wondered for how
long could she keep this up? Days, weeks, moons, years?
Her father seemed pleased with what she was doing, as far as she
could tell, for this act was as much for him and it was for Hugh, no,
probably more for her father she thought sourly. And that bitterness
festered and roiled in her stomach, knowing what she would have to
do soon, and on the likely many occasions into the long future ahead
of her. And she could not help but hate Hugh with an increasing
fervor, as he was the locus of all that was wrong, all that had
happened that she did not like.
Afterwards in their chambers, after she was prepared for bed she
steeled herself for what was to come, knowing that she had little
choice in the matter did not make it any easier, and nor did it give her
much in the way of courage. But she set her face in a mask of
pleasant easiness and slipped into the bed beside Hugh, somewhat
startling him by turning towards him and gazing up at his face.
"Little dragon?" he asked, she hated this nickname he used for her,
but instead of scowling she let a shy smile crease her face.
"I, I am, sore from last nights….."
"Yes of course, I, I will not, I will not bother you tonight, or, or until
you are feeling better Rhaena."
She disliked him using her name also, but again she did not react to
it, instead lowering her face and letting her hair fall between them.
"About, about… last night, I….."
"There is no need Hugh" she lied in response "it, it was
necessary…."
"No, yes, I mean, I should, I should have…"
"You should have what?" she asked, raising her face up, pushing her
hair out of the way with a hand.
"I should have…..been… gentler, I should have….explained things…
better… I, it, it was the first time I laid with a maiden…."
"You did your duty as a husband" she said, hating the words as they
came out of her mouth, hating the fact that she had to lie on behalf of
her father, even hating Hugh a little.
"Still, I, I am sorry for the pain I caused you little dragon, it was
unforgivable of me."
Hugh looked genuinely concerned and remorseful, at least she
thought so, given the look upon his face and the sorrow she could
see in his eyes. But that made no difference as far as she was
concerned, did not in any way change what she had to do, nor how
she felt truly.
"I, I want to, I would like to… do what we did last night again, it's just
that, I, my, I fear it would hurt Hugh" she said in a tiny, frightened
voice, turning her face away and down to further emphasize her
words.
"You need not worry, I can wait" Hugh announced, what a fool this
man really was, for she would never let him touch her again if she
had any choice in the matter! But of course she did not have any
choice in the matter, did she?
"I, I, I liked that, that thing, that thing you did with your lips and
tongue, down, down there" she stuttered deliberately, keeping her
head bowed until she lifted it up to meet Hugh's face once she had
said her words.
"I, I am glad you did little dragon" he replied, trying to sound as
sensitive and contrite, and he would have succeeded if she had
cared on whit for what he thought.
"While I would like you to do this again, I fear I may be too sore
yet…"
"Of course, I understand."
"But, but is, is there….I mean, could, can I, can I do something like
that to you?"
Five days later she stood in the Dragonpit watching Hugh mount
Vermithor and head back to the battle lines in the Reach, dressed
splendidly as benefitted her status as a Princess of the Realm, but
warmly also to ward off the cold.
Also as benefitted a newly married bride who was seemingly
besotted with her handsome young husband she had given Hugh a
fierce embrace and kissed him passionately before he had mounted
his dragon, her favor proud upon his forearm. She had embroidered
it over several days, red, black and bronze, with the letters H and R
entwined upon it.
He had looked delighted when she had presented it to him just
before they had kissed in the Dragonpit, his eyes alight with genuine
joy. He had grabbed her and kissed her savagely, crushing her into
his embrace, and she had responded as a young wife in love should,
to leave them both rather breathless as he had turned away and
mounted Vermithor.
As the great beast exited the Dragonpit her father came to stand
beside her "well done my dear, Methinks that good Prince Hugh is
suitably enamored by his new wife?"
"He is" she replied, knowing that she had more than enough of his
seed in her stomach to last her a lifetime, foul tasting and disgusting
that it had been to swallow his issue, making her near gag and retch
anew at the thoughts of it. Indeed, a fresh draught of Hugh's slimy,
vile flavored seed was even now digesting in her stomach, for she
had made sure to pleasure him with her mouth on this morning, as
she had done every morning for the last four days. Hugh liked it of
course, liked her mouth on his member, had not been in the least bit
shy in directing her lips and tongue to pleasure him. That she had
asked him to direct her in these ministrations she ignored
completely, not willing to give her husband the slightest bit of an
excuse.
Her womb was likely equally full of Hugh's seed, the pain of their
initial coupling was thankfully no more, but still the discomfort of his
bulk remained. At least he was gentler, and she was at pains to
make sure he went slower and that he thrust less deep. He had even
suggested that she should ride him on top, with Hugh lying beneath
her, to her surprise she had greatly enjoyed this position. It gave her
some measure of control and allowed Hugh to finger at her bud and
bring her to her peak earlier and often.
But despite this she was in truth thankful of this absence from Hugh,
and also equally thankful that her father did not also demand that
she bear Hugh's children, at least not yet. Though that would be
coming, of that she was absolutely certain.
"Fear not for his safety my dear, the war will be over soon enough,
then he can return, and you and he can have all the children that you
desire!"
She did not need to turn her head to know that her father was
watching her closely, his gaze intense and seeming to burn into her.
"Yes father" she replied, her words measured and calm, but inside
she was hollow, uncaring, dead.