Blighted

Anora fumed.

“I’ll not sit by and endure such an insult,” she declared. “Exactly whom does he think he is?”

“I do not know, my lady,” answered Erlina softly.

Anora rolled her eyes. “Oh of course you do; as do I. He thinks he is king.”

“He is not?” Erlina continued dabbing a cooling cream around Anora’s eyes, an attempt to disguise the evidence of the queen’s recent lack of sleep.

“No, absolutely not,” Anora snapped. “He is my consort, prince-consort, and nothing else. His position here is my husband and assistant, not an independent monarch. Ugh, enough!” She swatted Erlina’s hand away. “There are more pressing matters than my complexion at the moment.” She stood, smoothed her hair, and marched towards the door.

“You are going to confront him?” Erlina’s voice rose more than she’d intended.

Anora spun around. “Are you questioning me?”

“No, my lady. I… just…”

“Out with it.”

Erlina pressed her lips firmly together and looked down in shame.

Anora sighed in exasperation. “Do not cry, Erlina. I am not angry with you. I want to know what you intended to say. You may speak freely.”

“I worry for you, my queen. Lord Cousland is a very powerful man, no?”

“True,” Anora mused. “He is not renowned for his gentleness.”

Six months earlier…

“And so it is done,” Anora declared, turning to face Aedan. “I have kept my end of the bargain—we are wed. I hope you have not forgotten the rest of our deal.”

“What are you referring to?”

“I shall be the one to lead Ferelden; I am its monarch. You are satisfied, I hope, with your position as my second. You will be invaluable, of this I have no doubt, but I wish to be clear: I shall tolerate no attempts to usurp my rule.”

“Usurp you?” Aedan laughed. “What are you playing at, Anora? I’m the one who put you here.”

“Indeed, but you only had that power because I supported you at the Landsmeet. You were forthright in the terms of our alliance, and I hope you remain so. I have no desire to quarrel with you; I seek only to make my position clear.”

“And what of my position?”

“What do you mean?”

Aedan stepped forward. “Your power is secured, and yet you still insist upon tossing words around. Alliance. Consort. Second. How do I know that you will continue to be… forthright?”

“We are wed, are we not?”

He took another step forward. “Somewhat.”

“I do not understand. We stood before the Reverend Mother and took vows. We were legally bound before all of Denerim, and the majority of the banns and arls. How could we be ‘somewhat’ wed?”

“You know as well as I how often consorts are deposed,” he snapped. “Marriages can be annulled, and their being… incomplete only renders it easier.”

Anora was suddenly acutely aware of how little space there was between their bodies. He had managed to cover nearly half the span of the room without her noticing.

“So this is about…”

“Consummation,” he cut her off. “Yes.”

“You needed only to say so. I agreed to be your wife, and I am a woman of my word.”

“Good,” he purred. He was even closer to her then, reaching out his fingers, calloused from battle, and dragging them lightly down the side of her neck. “I would like to do it tonight then.” He swept his hand up, cupping her cheek almost tenderly. “I presume two hours past dinner would give you plenty of time to prepare?”

“Very well,” she said flatly.

“Make yourself ready, my wife. I shall consider such evidence of your own continuing… forthrightness.”

His words stayed with her throughout the night, even as she sat on her bed, hours later, waiting, she could not shake them. She had been bathed and dressed. Her face had been painted and her hair carefully styled, but she knew that was not what his words had meant. Despite having been married for five years, Anora had never given much thought to sex, and even less to romance. Having known she was to be Cailan’s wife from a young age, she had dismissed the notion of romance as a frivolous pursuit at best. Sex, she reasoned, was biologically necessary to conceive children; she had paid much attention to any other reason for it.

She had been a virgin with Cailan. While she never deluded herself that she was his first, she entertained the idea that being with her might be different for him. They had grown up together; they shared trust, friendship, and common goals. She considered it a farce how she was dressed up and sent to his chambers on their wedding night. Formalities between the two of them should have long been abandoned.

He had kissed her, caressed her, worked her with his fingers until a warm sensation spread through her body; then he had entered her. She remembered anxiety, pressure, and a bit of pain. Afterward, she was surprised to find herself disappointed. She had overheard some of the ladies at court gushing over Cailan, and yet she did not feel such an overflow of passion for him. He was attractive, and she cared for him deeply. Nevertheless, something about him had put her off, and she came to realize that they only continued to lie together in hopes of producing a child.

The door opened, jerking Anora out of her memories.

“My lady…?”

“Erlina?” she cried. “What are you doing? Get in here, and shut the door.”

“I’m sorry,” Erlina whimpered. “I needed to see you.”

“This is no longer my private room, Erlina. It is the royal bedchamber, and you must make sure my husband is not present before entering.”

She nodded. “But it was very important that you get this,” she insisted, depositing a small jar into Anora’s hand. Anora opened the jar and found it filled with a smooth ointment which smelled almost vaguely of mint. “This will make it easier, yes?”

Anora rubbed the substance between her fingers; it was thick and smooth. Understanding dawned upon her. “Thank you, Erlina. You may go.”

She nodded and departed.

She understood the basics of intercourse, lubrication and the like. Cailan had always tried to make sure she was prepared during their sessions by kissing and caressing her body before taking his own pleasure. Oftentimes, when she knew he intended to come to her bed, she would apply some simple oil to her body to ease his entry. She understood that there would likely be no foreplay with Aedan. This was business.

Anora turned her back to the door and hiked up her robe. She pushed her undergarments aside and applied a liberal coating of the ointment. She swirled her trembling finger in the mixture before slipping into herself and rubbing the ointment along her inner walls. She gathered more onto her fingers, two now, and likewise pushed them inside of her. She shuddered, feeling the urge to push her fingers deeper into herself. Before she could respond, she heard footsteps coming down the hallway. She tossed the jar into a nightstand drawer and stood facing the door to greet her husband.

The candlelight played wonderfully of Aedan’s features, Anora decided. The candlelight made his dark eyes appear almost honey brown and gave his tan skin a warmer hue. The contrast of light and shadow made his high cheekbones and square jaw suddenly obvious. She was unsure if it was something in the mixture coating her insides, but Anora found herself suddenly deeply attracted to her husband. She watched as he stripped his tunic off, tossing it aside to reveal his well sculpted torso, flesh smooth and tan. There were scars, one on his left pectoral and two on his abdomen, but somehow they served only to make him seem more virile. His pants went next, and Anora found her eyes settled upon the bulge being restrained by his undergarments. It sprang free when he removed them as well, standing forward, readied.

She unbelted her robe and let it fall to the floor. Her skin was quite lighter than his, smooth and unblemished from a life of privilege. She wore no bra; her breasts hung freely, large swells of creamy white flesh capped with pink nipples, quickly becoming erect. Her stomach was smooth but not overly toned. She slipped her damp undergarments down over the curve of her hips and past her long legs and stepped out of them, standing before him completely naked.

He approached her almost briskly and pushed her down onto the bed. He held one breast in his hand, massaging it firmly, while he traced the other down between her legs and ran a finger over her. She resisted the fleeting urge to lift her hips against his hand. Business, she tried to remember. Business.

Aedan rubbed the moisture between his fingers. “Forthright,” he whispered. He entertained himself with her breast for another moment before moving his hands down to her thighs. He parted her legs and sheathed himself in her unceremoniously. Anora gasped sharply. Cailan had filled her but never stretched her. Aedan was stretching her.

He held her hips steady and began thrusting in and out of her, slow at first but gaining in momentum. She was surprised to find that, despite her previous experience, it hurt. She looked up to find his eyes closed, brow slightly furrowed as he concentrated on his task. She watched him, watched the muscles in his arms flex so slightly, watched his abdomen muscles ripple with effort, watched a small trickle of sweat appear on his neck before beginning a slow descent down the curves of his body. The pain was subsiding; it was beginning to feel good.

The ointment was doing its job, coating them both in slickness and aiding his exertions. He stretched her over and over again, pushing forward subsequently harder and harder. She felt him bury himself in her, felt his hipbone collide against her, and she wanted nothing more than to grind against him. He moaned above her, a low sound emerging from deep within him. The sound of his moaning aroused her further.He lifted her hips up and began thrusting deeper, filling her with his complete girth, bumping her with his hipbone with every push. She ran her fingers up his arms and over the tops of his shoulders, emitting a soft sigh.

The change was instant. His eyes flashed in the candlelight, and his jaw clenched. He seized her thighs in his hands and forced them roughly apart, pushing her knees up towards her chest. His fingers dug into her flesh painfully, and he began slamming into her. Anora felt a rush of fear, but she understood his message: this was not lovemaking. His body harshly collided with hers over and over. He was panting, his muscles flexing. He seemed to be making an extra effort to hit her body with as much force as possible. It seemed like an eternity before she saw his eyes squeeze closed and heard a ragged moan tear from his throat. She felt him finish inside of her. Once finished, he withdrew, dressed, and left.

Anora lie on her back, her legs still open, shaken and alone. Her sex throbbed with pain from the abuse and unsated lust. She remained still for several minutes, until satisfied she was alone. Tears stung her eyes as she reached between her legs and began to rub herself furiously. She had never pleasured herself before and found she either had little aptitude for the act or the underlying wounds were to severe to permit pleasure. She squeezed her eyes shut, clenched her jaw, and rubbed blindly in desperation. She heard the doorknob turn and quickly ceased, trying to cover herself with a blanket.

“My lady…” Erlina called softly.

“Come in, Erlina.”

“I heard you cry out,” she confessed, although Anora had never been aware that she’d made a sound. “I was so worried.” Her eyes settled upon Anora’s exposed thighs. “Oh, my lady!” she cried, choking back tears.

Anora looked down and discovered a series of bruises developing where Aedan had held her legs. She stared dumbly for several moments before regaining her composure. “It is nothing,” she asserted.

“Such violence!”

“He did not seek to do harm,” she declared. “He was making a point. No matter. Fetch me a warm compress, Erlina. We must ensure there are no marks anywhere they may be seen.”

Anora drifted back from the memory of their first night with a heavy sigh. She had been sore for nearly a week. She’d found it especially difficult to cross her legs or sit in any ladylike posture for any amount of time. When nobody was looking, she’d occasionally forgotten herself and allowed her legs to drift apart into an almost obscene position.

“Perhaps you are right,” she admitted. “Force may not be the best manner by which to settle this, but that does not mean I intend to ignore it.”

She retired to her bed early that evening and laid alone in the dark for hours, mind working. She searched through her father’s lessons in her mind, lessons of strength, courage, and, perhaps if she searched hard enough, cruelty.

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Author's Note: To my early reviewers, you have my sincere thanks. I truly did not expect to receive any comments on my drivel so soon. Please be assured that I always read your feedback and take it to heart; I always consider your suggestions. I sincerely appreciate your support, whether you voice it in the future or not. Thank you.