He married her, as he'd been advised; he'd known he must, sooner or later, and always for the sake of forging alliances. There did not feel, for him, to be anything extraordinarily binding in it. He must marry, just as men must decide upon a broodmare to bear their stallion's progeny. A logistical imperative. He would marry for armies and for fealties, and he would take into his bed as many women as it pleased him to have. He would not be fool enough to wear his marriage like shackles. He would speak what words must be spoken, take what he needed for his conquest, and think of his sworn lady only when he must. In court, in public appearances, in those hours when he would take from her arms his sons.
She had been nothing to him then, and she is nothing to him now. There had been, of course, the initial novelty - there had been the curious excitement of blazing a romance upon parchment. She existed then as a portrait commissioned by his imagination, painted to his pleasure. To speak of love when the work of love did not yet demand his hand; to revel in their imminent victories just as he reveled in her beauty, not yet blemished by the sight of real flesh; those had been sweet diversions. But now he has been made to see her, to behold her hall and her brutish people, to sit at her paltry table, and he will suffer no more slights.
Her voice wavers, made ugly with what can only be thickening tears, and he does not recognize the name she pins to him. He knows only that it is her insolence speaking still, and he answers with a heavy grunt. The raking of his cock within her deserts its task in an abrupt drag, enough so that he can lift his weight from her hips. His hand wrenches free from the gold of her hair, and he takes her by the arms to twist her onto her back. She will not have the cowardly honor of enduring this ceremony blind.
"I bought armies and allegiance. You factor into it a deal less than you think." She was the emblem of their union, perhaps, her breeding and titles meant to give this wedding more distinction than it could rightly claim. Hers was the body which would make of the agreement a blood oath.
His hands rip now at her bodice. While he is enraptured by no lover's desire to see her laid bare, he will leave no piece of her unaccosted by his incising eye. She will know how thoroughly her supposed beauty has failed to take root here. She will not forget that her glorious titles and prestigious heritage count for nothing in his shadow. His claws are cruel and nimble, shredding at her silks with a heedless, mindless fury. He will bare her breasts, and he will skewer her while she lies on her back, too, lunging forward once more between her legs to sheathe there his angry, undisciplined sword.
His teeth gleam in the sudden gaping of a smile, though in place of humor or mirth there is only a gluttonous scorn.
"You carried yourself so proudly in your dingy halls, my lady. Where is your pride now? Look at me. Your king commands it."
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sforzinda
no subject
Date: 2022-02-02 04:56 am (UTC)She had been nothing to him then, and she is nothing to him now. There had been, of course, the initial novelty - there had been the curious excitement of blazing a romance upon parchment. She existed then as a portrait commissioned by his imagination, painted to his pleasure. To speak of love when the work of love did not yet demand his hand; to revel in their imminent victories just as he reveled in her beauty, not yet blemished by the sight of real flesh; those had been sweet diversions. But now he has been made to see her, to behold her hall and her brutish people, to sit at her paltry table, and he will suffer no more slights.
Her voice wavers, made ugly with what can only be thickening tears, and he does not recognize the name she pins to him. He knows only that it is her insolence speaking still, and he answers with a heavy grunt. The raking of his cock within her deserts its task in an abrupt drag, enough so that he can lift his weight from her hips. His hand wrenches free from the gold of her hair, and he takes her by the arms to twist her onto her back. She will not have the cowardly honor of enduring this ceremony blind.
"I bought armies and allegiance. You factor into it a deal less than you think." She was the emblem of their union, perhaps, her breeding and titles meant to give this wedding more distinction than it could rightly claim. Hers was the body which would make of the agreement a blood oath.
His hands rip now at her bodice. While he is enraptured by no lover's desire to see her laid bare, he will leave no piece of her unaccosted by his incising eye. She will know how thoroughly her supposed beauty has failed to take root here. She will not forget that her glorious titles and prestigious heritage count for nothing in his shadow. His claws are cruel and nimble, shredding at her silks with a heedless, mindless fury. He will bare her breasts, and he will skewer her while she lies on her back, too, lunging forward once more between her legs to sheathe there his angry, undisciplined sword.
His teeth gleam in the sudden gaping of a smile, though in place of humor or mirth there is only a gluttonous scorn.
"You carried yourself so proudly in your dingy halls, my lady. Where is your pride now? Look at me. Your king commands it."