She knew the day would come. Theirs had been an arranged marriage - forced on her side, one would say - and more of a political arrangement than anything else. They had, oddly, found pleasure in the bedroom even though she wasn't expecting it, and he wasn't wanting to. For some reason there had been a compatibility that way, perhaps the only one they had, because neither of them had tried. But that nightly passion didn't dispell disdain on his side, and dislike on hers. That, and more time apart than together.
So yes, she knew the day would come, when he would be back home after long months away, and accuse her of infidelity.
"I am not actually calling you an adulteress. I am… wondering", he said as if he was simply asking where he might have misplaced his gloves, standing much too close to her. She could feel his breath on her face, and she slightly turned away, disturbed. "There was this king on Ancient Earth, who said… Often women change their mind, one would have to be a fool to trust them. You know I am not".
She sighed, long suffering, and almost rolled her eyes. She knew better.
"We spoke our vows. A leader's wife should be beyond reproach, beyond suspicion…". His dead, quiet tone frightened her. She could imagine that anyone standing in the way of his ambitions would be mercilessly sacrified. She dared to look back at him, and found him pale and expressionless when she expected anger, blood red. It was even worse.
"I see no one when you are not there. General. Except my parents and servants…". She tried to keep her own voice low and casual. Self preservation, such a powerful thing. This could have sounded like she was unhappy about being so isolated, but she was past that. She once had complained, and he had retorted that it was lonely at the top, and would only get worse over years. She hated that he never told her not to use his title but to him, she was one of his underlings in her own right, fulfilling his various needs and obeying orders. Faithful to the end.
He grabbed her wrist and pushed her away, shoving her against the wall. Her wrist hurt, but she knew soon it wouldn't anymore and this would be when she should worry, when she couldn't feel it. She instinctively looked for a way out, but her world had dwindled to that wall behind the back, and her lord husband, so close to her front that she could feel his heat through his uniform.
"Perhaps you are so suspicious because you aren't free of blame…", she dared, her eyes narrowing.
He froze.
"Are you calling me an adulterer?". She knew it to be a sensitive topic, probably due not only to his beliefs but also to his birth.
"Be careful where you tread, girl". The last word was spat like an insult. Lower than a woman, a girl. "I have no tolerance for weak, lewd individuals who cannot keep to their vows. Nor am I one. I am also not constantly needy to be noticed and…".
She knew what was coming. It was a low blow, and not made better by the fact that he didn't actually vocalize what she needed.
It was true that she would often seek him out in the bedroom, because she had come to enjoy it; So did he, but he would deny it, deny himself, and didn't seem to have real needs in that department. Unless she seduced him into it, he would only exert his marital right when he felt she had to be put back in her place, showed she belonged under him. The first years, she had often cried after he took her so punishingly, or so coldly, nauseated that she had responded to this treatment. Only when she pushed repeatedly would he allow himself to make any sound and show any enjoyment. This had to be why he thought that she couldn't behave when he was away for so long...
"I couldn't live with myself if I was an adulterer", he went on. "Nor could I live with an adulteress". The message was clear, definitive, sharp as a command.
"Are you repudiating me, because you imagine what I might do when you are away, sir?". The bitterness was palpable in her voice. He had made that hateful step from seeing her as a debauched woman who constantly wanted her husband, to one who would want anyone else.
"I do not believe in repudiation. There is something repulsive to a woman going from husband to husband, servicing them…". He frowned. Yes, she thought, this is how he sees a wife. A lawful, one-man prostitute.
"I also cannot imagine a man taking another wife while the first is still alive, even though some paper declares her unmarried. I am never giving away what is mine, nor taking someone else's leftovers". The last words were nauseating when labeling a human being. But this was who he was. She didn't know whether his ultimate, entire faithfulness to his commitments was a turn on or a turn off. Something coiled low in her stomach, realizing that he was the type of man who would never cheat. There would be no mistress or courtesan, he would come to her or abstain. She wished he would come to her more often, and show her more of what he wanted, if he even knew himself. She shivered and he mistook it for fear.
"In this case… There is a custom on my planet. I have been told others used to practice it too, but it became old fashioned, then backwards". She waited, considering that it could be a good description of him.
"When a wife is declared to be unfaithful, she is emprisoned until it can be determined that she is not… with child… If that is not the case, or after the child is born, they hang her off a bridge as a warning to every other wife". He looked as if this was absolutely normal as her eyes goggled in horror. He sounded more ill at ease discussing a woman's pregnancy than execution.
"You have such a slim, pretty neck", he added, his arm now pressuring against it. She couldn't not imagine how it would feel to be hanged, to lose her breath second after second, long minutes though until she lost consciousness…
She swallowed and squirmed, breathing hard, and a tear rolled down her cheek. She was past not showing weakness. In fact it was the best way to get away with most punishments. His hand wiped it away and caressed her cheek, his look almost tender. It wasn't new that he liked watching her cry. He most of the time wouldn't initiate even though he would appear bothered and troubled, but if she reached out to him in such occasions he would only rarely turn her away.
He finally removed his arm, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Is it… Do men get hanged too?", she asked after clearing her throat.
"What?". He seemed not to understand for a moment. "No. It is different for men". She bitterly sneered.
"Of course, it is always different for men", she snarked.
He nodded as he was approving, as if not hearing her tone.
"Though for the record", he said, "I consider that a man who is unable not to distract himself from temptation to be barely a man". He was still patting and rubbing her cheek, warm and reddened, enjoying the sensation. Everything was always so cold on the Starkiller.
"We had this officer on board…", he explained softly. "I heard that he was misbehaving on planet leave and I confronted him. He denied, of course, but then… You know how persuasive I can be. I had to get him a transfer".
His face was not angry, but his eyes shone darkly as he relived the story. She couldn't help thinking this was a bit excessive.
"Was he… borderline, before?".
"No. In fact he was a good officer, an engineer too". The wife knew how he valued those. He had a soft spot - if anything could be soft about him- for engineers and snipers, and the qualities they developed. "You cannot ignore that when a soldier, an officer gets captured… They will try to make him talk. If he cannot be faithful to one woman, how can he be expected to not betray other rules, or eventually the whole organization? But the truth is… I couldn't bear to see his face anymore after knowing". His voice was rough and there was definitely anger in it now. He almost sounded as if he had been the one betrayed. She couldn't help giving him a quick peck, for some reason.
"Anyway... You do not have to worry about me. There are many other, more interesting pursuits for a man. Political, financial, martial, intellectual". She was touched in a way that he would try to reassure her, awkward as it was to hear that he enjoyed those things more than her.
In the beginning it would have riled her up and she would have claimed that a woman could do all this too. But it never ended well for her… Even worse if she dared to bring up the pleasure they experienced the few times he did lower his guard. He would deny it, probably slap her for being insolent, and not touch her for long weeks.
She sighed. He didn't notice or mind.
"Really this must be why women stray", he said. "They have nothing to do all day, and they seem to only think about men". It was so wrong she could have laughed.
"Is this how you see me?", she asked, and he didn't reply but kept petting her like a child, or an animal. His mouth was replacing his finger, tiny pecks along her jawline and cheek, turning open mouth as he pressed against her and braced against the wall. She moaned despite herself. This had to be one of those asserting dominance times, even though they were generally devoid of such open sensuality. She didn't know what to think of that.
His hands, now free, bunched up her long skirt and she let it be. In a ruffle of clothing she heard him fumble with his tunic and zipper, her underwear was pushed aside and he thrust inside her. She expected slight pain, at least discomfort, because he was taking her in such a strange position, vulgar as a one night tryst but she had grown wet without noticing it and he was there in one smooth slide. He searched her face for something and she embraced him, her grip strong around his shoulders because she was afraid she would fall. It was obviously a novelty for both of them and they tentatively tried to make it work, the young wife reassured that this wasn't something he knew how to do. His stance on adultery had already appeased her in a disturbing way. Of course he had also threatened her with a public, horrible death. It was jarring to imagine that she could be pushed off, or ordered to be pushed off, by someone currently pawing desperately at her breasts through her clothes.
Fresh tears took over at the thought and she turned her face away, trying to escape his scrutiny. Gently but firmly, he took hold of her chin and angled her to face him.
"Don't hide from me", he demanded, obviously enjoying the mix of pleasure and pain playing on her face and twitching inside of her.
"And you say women are perverted, General", she taunted through a hiccup.
He suddenly stopped his thrusts. Had she gone too far? He grazed against her lips, and whispered. "Only a woman would let someone take them after they threatened to kill her and called her an adulteress". He was so cruel, and she retaliated after a gasp.
"What about a man who can… perform... with a wife he doesn't trust and threatened to kill?". He bit her lip, because she was right, and she cried out but pressed against him.
Giving in, he resumed, slow enough to frustrate her. She goaded him, almost hoping for the return of punishing thrusts.
"I should say, a woman who does that may have reasons. Maybe her husband can't satisfy her. Why would a man want everyone to know, his wife on display for everyone to wonder if he was unable to have her, or hopeless at...". It was cruel, especially when they were in the middle of such an act, He slapped her on instinct, a short quick affair that made her yelp, before his hand found her breast again. Hardly disturbed by the dichotomy.
"No!", he raged, though he increased his effort, "It happens even when the husband is… quite adequate. I saw enough of them hanging, growing up. Young and old, rich and poor, you would never have thought…". His tone was disdainful, almost dreamy too. She wondered if it turned him on, if it had turned him on then. "Hateful really. My Father would take me. Bad women who sullied their family reputation, ran away with some low life, abandoned their child… Hateful. Hateful". Each insult was punctuated with a hard thrust that made her whine and gasp. In the haze of pleasure she remembered that she heard of the General's mother disappearing and she wondered if… Could that be… Had he witnessed…
It would explain so many things. The way he pushed her away, as if daring her to do the same and run. His suspicion. His views on females. His toleration - to the least - for violence, blood and death. His stance on cheating and on sex in general. She was the one caressing his cheek now, and though she was still crying, she met his gaze and her tears were for him. Yes. This made so much sense. She had found it difficult to accept that he would come home and act normal after slaughter. He would enjoy fine food, read his holopad. In fact he would be some kind of calculated flirtatious, though he hated to initiate out of lust because it felt vulgar and uncontrolled. If she was receptive, which she generally was since the occasions were so rare, he would proceed to take her in a way that seemed disrespectful, for herself or her status as a wife. Almost as if somehow she was the enemy too. It was soon over for both of them and she hated herself for allowing it, welcoming it and enjoying it especially that time after his father had an unfortunate accident. She had done her best to forget her husband's terrible smile when he thought he was alone after hearing the news. He probably hated himself too. But now she just felt sad.
"Don't you dare", he warned low and rough, always perceptive, but she didn't stop trying to make him feel better. He was too proud, too smug to accept this though. She didn't know if she was moaning or sobbing or both, but she moved against him and he didn't resist when she took his lips, this time going deep. She tensed and came hard, breathing through the kiss as she could, not wanting to break contact.
She rested her cheek on his shoulder, and whispered "I'm never leaving". He gave a gasp that could be a sob, in pleasure or otherwise, as he finished on the spot.
"Pitiful", he taunted to save face, but it lacked conviction and he closed his eyes, supporting her and she felt gentle kisses on wherever he could reach.
The king is François I wiki/souvent_femme_varie,_bien_fol_est_qui_s%E2%80%99y_fie
The bridge thing is something I never managed to prove (or disprove) but heard from an Italian. I almost called this fic The Bridge, because of that, and because of what the wife is trying to achieve.
And the reference to the wife being above suspicion… wiki/Pompeia_(wife_of_Caesar)