There's fluff here if you squint. Enjoy!
Ramsay watched as his wife ran the blade down the man's arm. That wasn't going to cut right. She was holding the blade wrong. She kept twisting the knife every time she brought it down. The man screamed but it wasn't the same. She had taken out a chunk of flesh, not a layer of skin. The wound wouldn't burn as badly. But she was trying.
Her shoulders slumped and she bit the edge of her lip as she turned to him. "That wasn't right. I'm sorry." She still winced every time she cut someone but her faces of disgust had long passed. She was getting better, he had to admit that. He was actually still surprised that she had so readily agreed to learn, though he hadn't given her a choice. He rarely did.
"Give me the knife. You're bending your wrist wrong." he held his hand out, taking the blade from her. He showed her again how to flay the skin, pulling off a thin layer.
She crossed her arm and her nose wrinkled. "Why can't I do that?" she huffed. She was frustrated and he couldn't help but laugh to himself. It was cute.
"I'll be 22 on my nameday next week. I've spent far more time with a flaying knife then you have."
Her eyes grew wide at his remark. "I didn't know it was almost your nameday. Is your father planning anything?"
Ramsay snorted. The idea of his father planning anything other than battle plans was ridiculous. "Put the knife back on his arm" There was a whimpered protest from the man but it went ignored. She did as she was told. Coming up beside her, he took her wrist and guided her hand down. She gasped as the skin came off, falling to the floor. "It worked that time."
"It'll do that when you hold your wrist right" he retorted.
He awoke to the sound of Lucyia's handmaiden, Kar?-no-Lana?-no-May…some name he could never bother to remember, entering the room. Her feet scampered about the floor like she was a mouse. Granted, she sounded like one too. If she opens up that curtain I'll kill her. He just wanted sleep. Was that too much to ask? He had his arms wrapped around his wife, bringing her close to his chest. She was warm and soft; he liked it. And this mouse of a girl was trying to ruin the only peace he'd get today.
Reaching for one of the pillows, he growled at her. "Get out Squeaky" Without getting up, he tossed the pillow across the room and hit the wall beside her. She squeaked and ran out the room. She did that every time he frightened her. He would have found it more humorous if he wasn't so tired.
He had just gotten comfortable again and was almost asleep when he felt Lucyia stir. She was awake. Groaning he asked, "You going to get up now?" She yawned, stretching an arm as she curled deeper into the furs. "Can't" she answered sleepily, "You just tossed out the person who helps me get dressed."
"Now you'll have to walk about the keep naked" he could feel the smug grin forming on his face.
"mmhhh" she murmured, burying her face into his chest.
Ramsay snatched his sleeping wife from the bed and pulled her to her feet. He was already dressed and ready to leave. He had meant to leave her be. His father wanted him at a meeting in the great hall, but his statement from earlier still rang in his mind. The idea of her walking about the keep naked was too irresistible for him to pass up.
"Ramsay?" She blinked back the sleep from her eyes as she steadied herself. At bit dazed, she looked about the room before turning back to him.
"I've a meeting to go to. I want you to attend me", the corners of his mouth twisting into a grin. He pushed her towards the door and in her sleep-dazed confusion she didn't resist. She stumbled to the door before stopping and looking down at herself. Her eyes widen in realization that she was still unclothed, in nothing but her sheer nightdress. Looking back towards the dresser, she made an effort to move and dress herself. But he blocked her path.
"I think you're already overdressed" He pulled the straps of her dress down from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Her face turned red as it often did when she was flustered.
"But-But the guards…people will stare.", she stuttered while wringing her hands. He just shrugged. "They're men. They're already staring at you." Taking her by the shoulders he attempted to push her towards the door once again. But she resisted this time. She grounded herself, feet planted on the floor as she wrapped her arms around his chest. "Ramsay please, no" she begged, her voice breaking as her lip stuck out. She looked up to him with a pleading, frenzied look in her eyes. No? She should know better than that by now. He pressed hard into the shoulders he was still holding, nails sinking into her skin.
"Do you really wish to deny me on my nameday?" She hung her head at that, as though she had shamed herself. Unwrapping herself from him she spoke, "No my lord. Forgive me"
With that he opened the door and thrusted her out.
Lucyia didn't know which was worse, the stares of the guards as she passed or the shameful feeling of being so exposed. Her legs shook from nerves not wanting to carry her further. But she continued all the same. She had tried her best to cover herself. An arm wrapped around her chest. A hand between her legs. But Ramsay had quickly snatched both of those away, laughing at her in the process. Not wanting to meet the eyes of onlookers she stared straight ahead, wiping away the tears from her own.
Why was he doing this to her? What had she done? She obeyed his every word. Did everything he said. What cause did he have to embarrass and shame her in such a way? But that was it wasn't it? He didn't need a reason. He didn't just enjoy physical torture apparently. She wanted to run and hide. To find a dark corner where no one could see her. All she could think about was what these men, these guards and soldiers, would do to her if they found her alone now. And that thought was terrifying. She enjoyed Ramsay's touches but the thought of one of them doing the same made her sick to her stomach.
So caught up was she in her own thoughts that she didn't even notice the staircase until she was slipping on the step. Ramsay caught her by the arm and roughly pulled her back up against him. "It's no fun if the bruises don't come from me." She could hear the smugness in his voice. But it was that statement that made her realize she had nothing to fear from these men. He only liked it when he hurt her. She remembered what happened to Heath. He now walked about the keep as a reminder to anyone who dared to think about her in such a way. These men would not harm her and they had no right to look at her so, with humor in their eyes at her situation. She was a lady, deserving of respect no matter of how she was dressed. She rounded her shoulders, straightening her back and holding her head up, her hands resting to either side. And as a lady, she would act as such.
Ramsay found her resilience surprising. His wife never let anything bother her for very long. He could hear her crying when he first pushed her out. But know she walked gracefully through the halls as though she were fully dressed, head held high and every bit of a lady. She even smiled and nodded at one of the servants as she turned the corner. She stopped in front of the door that led into the great hall and turned to him. "Do you wish for me to follow you in?"
"Go back to your rooms if you're uncomfortable." He dared, just to see what she'd do. She met his gaze, eyebrow raised. A smile formed on her face, "And leave you all alone? I think not" And with that she opened the door and walked through.
He hadn't even made it through the doorway when he heard his father's voice. "What is the meaning of this?" Walking further in, he could see his father sitting at the table with Lord Whitehill. Gods was that idiot annoying.
"I'm following my husband's wishes. To please him" she answered, standing in front of them in all her glory.
There was a scowl on his father's face, though that always seemed to be there. "Well it does not please me"
"That was never my intention" His wife spoke the insult with such a polite smile and tone, as though she were paying him the highest of compliments. He laughed. How could he not? His father had never been short for words but he sat stunned now.
"You should teach your wife to hold her tongue" Whitehill spoke. Did he think he'd gain anything from his father through bootlicking?
"I don't recall asking you Whitehill." He sneered. "Go on now Lucyia" he motioned her out of the room. She curtsied towards the men before turning to leave. "As you wish Lord Ramsay"
Finally finding his tongue, his father spoke. "I'd watch her if you mean for her to walk around like that. There's no telling what one of the guards would do should they find her alone." Ramsay heard the threat behind his words. If he meant to send someone after her to teach him a lesson he was in for a surprise. "Ask any one of them what happened to Heath. I doubt one of them has the balls to try."
Lucyia took a look of herself in the mirror. After eventually tracking down Karlia, her handmaiden, that morning, she had gotten clothed in the dress she had chosen. The material was a bit too thin and the bodice too tight. But Ramsay liked it and those were probably the reasons why. So for his nameday she'd endure it. He had put her behind that morning. She had intended to get up early and check in with the kitchens but Ramsay had kept her. He had wanted to sleep and cuddle of all things. In the month they had been married, he had always taken a hold of her when they went to sleep. She had just assumed it was a way for him to keep control, to keep her still. But no, apparently he just liked her being near. She wasn't entirely sure what to think of that. And of course there was the whole incident after that. There would be time for thinking on the matter later though. Right now she had work to do.
Pushing back a strand of hair, she went to fix the table again. It just looked all wrong. Still. The table had already been rearranged three times. She had arranged for the kitchens to make his favorite foods for dinner and they'd be here any minute with it. She was determined that if no one else was going to do anything for his name day, she was. It just didn't feel right to her for the day to go completely ignored.
There was a knock at the door before a guard entered. "Lord Ramsay requests your presence in the cells" No, that would ruin her whole plan. What was she to do? She couldn't refuse. That was likely to only make him angry. But what other choice did she have?
"Sir, could you ask him to come here? I…require his attention." The guard looked puzzled for a moment. Most likely he didn't wish to go back to Ramsay and relay her message. But he finally nodded and turned to leave.
She was standing when he entered, waiting for him. He threw the door open, a scowl on his face. She had displeased him by not going, she knew. He took a step in and opened his mouth as if to shout something harsh, when he caught sight of the room. The food had gotten there moments after the guard had left and she had spent what felt like an hour rearranging candles.
He paused a moment, confused. From the looks of him he must have been in the middle of something in the cells. His clothes had splotches of blood, his hands were covered, and there were smears of it on his face. She found it strangely appealing.
"What's this?" he finally asked.
She clasped her hands, giving him a smile. "It's dinner for your nameday." She reached out, pulling a chair and took a seat. But he didn't follow suit. He just stood there, eyebrows scrunched and lips pulled tight. "Please sit if you like."
He raised an eyebrow. "Why?" His tone was sharp.
"So you can eat?" Why was he still angry?
He gave her a hard look before eventually sitting. "No. Why this?" he clarified, gesturing a hand to the food.
"It's your nameday" Why wouldn't she do something for his nameday?
"You said that." He sneered. He was upset with something, that much she could tell. She just didn't know what. Wiping the blood from his hands, he picked up a fork and finally began eating. She let out a thankful sigh. After several silent minutes, he continued.
"No one does anything for my nameday. So, what do you want?" His tone was indifferent now, uncaring. Somehow that hurt worse.
"I just wanted to celebrate it." She assured as she picked up a roll.
"Then why not have it in the great hall with everyone else?"
"You hate Lady Walda. I assumed you would prefer this."
"You're not afraid of offending my father?" he smirked.
"I believe I've already done that once today. Has your father's opinion ever bothered you?" she quipped. He shook his head, laughing. "What about your family? Do they need something else?" All she wanted was to do something nice for him. That couldn't be too hard to believe. "No. I am your wife Ramsay. I wanted to do something nice for your nameday. That is all. I promise you." He looked her straight in the eye then, searching them as he often did.
"So dinner was your big plan?" he mocked. Well she just found out about it last week. But no she had something else. Going to her chest across the room she pulled out what she had been working on all week.
"I made this" she found her voice had grown quite from nerves. "It's not much but I only had a week." She had crossed stitched their sigil, the one on her necklace, into a piece of fabric for him. "I thought I could sew it into a piece of clothing for you to wear in battle." She watched him run his fingers over the stitching, nerves growing in her stomach. After a moment she saw just the smallest hint of the edge of his lip curl up. He liked it! But she knew Ramsay well enough to know he'd never say so.
He shoved the fabric in his pocket and went back to eating. "Since you are in such a giving mood I'll have Squeaky draw me a bath and you can do something nice for me after." Oh. She was hoping he wouldn't bother with the bath till after. He must have mistaken her look of disappointment. "Is that a problem?" His voice was sharp again.
"The blood looks…." She found herself flustered. Oh this was just embarrassing. "I wanted to do it before you bathed" she finally blurted out.
A smug look formed on his face at her admission. Pushing his chair back, he stood up and made his way over to her. "All you had to do was ask wife" Taking her by the hand, he pulled her back towards their bed.