"They say she's quite untamable, milord."

William Adama didn't react to his friend's words. Instead, he stood unmoving as if etched from stone, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, while said lady and her procession approached. They walked along the line of trees like an invading army, but when they came into the patches of sunlight, its brightness became caught in their many glittering gems. At the center, and most radiant of all, Lady Laura walked, wearing a velvet gown trimmed in priceless cloth of gold and studded with sapphires. It shimmered so dark a shade of blue that it appeared black. It was a gown fit for a funeral.

As the distance closed between him and his future wife, Bill judged her far more beautiful than he'd imagined and far more haughty. Well, if their match displeased her there was little to be done about it. Bill stood tall and proud as he gripped the hilt of his sword and waited patiently. Members of his household gathered under the raised tents bearing his coat of arms. He waited in the blazing sun where his simple leather jacket felt stifling. He blamed the jacket and not the anticipation for the heat racing along his skin.

"You're in trouble," Saul said, the amusement clear in his voice. Bill allowed his Marshal and best friend to speak his mind. The man had proven his absolute loyalty and devotion a hundred times over, and so Bill tolerated Saul's more insolent words, drunken behavior, and downright rude manners. While Saul seemed unimpressed, the other members of Adama's household stared at the spectacle headed toward their master. Judging by the excited murmurs, they were delighted by the elegant woman who'd be joining them. Delighted and intimidated; she was well attended and heavily guarded as befitted someone close to the throne.

"She'll be no problem," Bill said in a low tone to his friend.

"Sure." Bill heard Saul choke back condescending laughter.

They'd fought in many battles side by side against a ruthless enemy, and both of them became heroes of the Cylon war. That war was now long over, but it had earned Bill Adama renown as a valiant and expert commander, and he was given the title Commander of the Northern Army. Battle-hardened, Bill knew, despite whatever Saul thought, that he could handle this wife the king thought fit to give him. He'd wed her and bed her and then make use of the great wealth and lingering influence she came with; for a man whose castle guarded the mountain pass the Cylons would use to attack and whose lands would fall first, Bill Adama gained much from the mismatched marriage.

But he had no want of a wife.

"I've handled worse," Bill added. Saul kept his mouth shut and didn't mention Carolanne. Bill had been so smitten that she still haunted his thoughts years later. Even now, her harsh words of criticism echoed in his mind, and her betrayal remained a scar on his heart.

Bill refused to open his heart to another woman.

When the lady stopped in front of him, she swept a graceful curtsey and came up with her head held high and a defiant tilt to her chin. Looking him up and down, she appeared unimpressed with her husband-to-be. As if her standards embroidered in gold and her liveried retainers weren't enough, the murmuring lords and ladies caught her silent disapproving message. Bill remained stoic and unflinching, unsurprised at how predictable this all played out. The whole damn kingdom knew that his soon-to-be-wife was entering into a union far beneath the station to which she'd been born, and Bill knew he possessed neither the looks nor charms to make up for it. \

He decided he'd enjoy bedding the high born Caprican and wiping that unimpressed expression off her face.

Bill gazed at the woman he'd marry in a fortnight; she combined a fighting spirit with grace and dignity; he suspected she would make his life hell. He wondered how much fuss she'd cause if she strangled him with one of her billowing standards, because despite the polite smile she painted on her face, he knew she'd like nothing better. He watched her challenge him with defiant green eyes

She was magnificent.

Her rich auburn hair was swept back from her face and held with pins of perfect pearl. Her skin was soft and pale, but Bill noticed a dusting of freckles and thought her all the more beautiful. The bodice of her dress was finely embroidered and highlighted the curve of her waist and pushed her breasts up to display them tantalizingly. The glittering gems at her throat and fingers announced to the world that she was the daughter of the old royal house.

That was the problem.

She'd become a thorn in King Richard's side. She was the beloved daughter of the late Edward, Duke of Roslin whose two older brothers had sat on Caprica's throne. Because Richard won a battle against her much disliked uncle, the crown passed over Laura and went to the victor. Darling of the court and sole heir of the once great Roslin line, Laura became a political problem who needed to be dealt with by either imprisonment, execution, or marriage.

Richard delayed in handling the lady, and rumors whispered that he intended to marry her himself when his sick wife died. If those same rumors could be believed, the king also hadn't waited to have Laura in his bed. If Bill listened to the more licentious murmurings around court, Laura had participated in the king's advances eagerly. In the end, despite King Richard's hopes, for years his queen continued to live, and Laura conceived no child. Although Laura remained content to be unmarried with her vast lands, riches, and army, Richard decided to marry her off before she rose as a threat or as a rallying point for the mounting discontented factions in his kingdom. No longer a virgin and unable to bear a child, her reputation was stained, and her value tarnished; facts that worked in the king's favor when deliberating a match for her.

Adama was no fool. He knew very well that King Richard wanted the rival to his throne married off to someone considered an insignificant member of the aristocracy. Irritated at the implication, Bill realized that he was meant to shroud Lady Laura in the minor Adama name and keep her safely away from Richard's crown. To the public, the match was the king's way of rewarding his commander for Bill's long service and his latest exploits. However, in private the two men disliked each other too much for Richard to ever want to truly reward Bill, so giving him a stubborn, defiant, and problematic wife who couldn't conceive was more punishment than reward. Maybe if Bill's recent raids across the Cylon's border had successfully found reason to provoke a war that would have brought glory to King Richard then Bill wouldn't be looking into a smiling face with green eyes that blazed with fury.

Bill stepped forward and noticed how she curbed her instinct to flinch away from him. Interesting. He bowed slightly in greeting.

"Milady, welcome," he greeted her simply after the page's ostentatious and formal introductions were spoken.

"I'm honored," she said coldly.

Hushed conversation filled the space around them as people watched their interaction. Bill disliked the scrutiny. Unsure of what to say, more used to war, archery, and falconry than socializing, he studied his breathtaking intended.

"Do I please you?" she asked in a more teasing tone. Gods, Bill thought. The rumors that spoke of her pride and stubbornness were clearly true. If she wasn't careful her insolence would be the death of her. At her provocative words, Bill became further aware of how attractive she was and he felt the almost forgotten stirrings of desire working in him. This woman was to be his.

"Well enough." Keeping his wits, he stepped forward ostensibly to kiss her cheek. Instead, he whispered into her ear, "Whatever you may think of me, I'm fully aware that I'm your only refuge. I stand between you and a monastery or the block. For your own good, I suggest you start acting like a happy bride. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir." He fell back a little from the whip of her tongue. Maybe she was untamable, Lady Laura certainly lacked any of the traditional respect and deference shown toward a man to be her husband.

"I'm to escort you to the joust."

"And like a good soldier you always do as you're told?" She asked without so much as blinking. They regarded each other unwavering and unmoving, eyes locked in a silent battle. Already, he wanted to break her iron armor and see her submit. Her father and her uncles may have allowed her to run free like a wild mare, but he needed her to acknowledge that she wasn't the master here. He would not be undermined. Never again. He needed to ensure the continued safety of his people, and, hopefully, the life of his soon-to-be-wife.

"Yes, I do. As will you."

At the reports of her willfulness, he expected her to be indignant at his words. So, when she laughed, it brought his blood to a boil. All he wanted was a simple life. He didn't need a threat to the throne turning his life into a warfield. He'd had enough.

"I heard you're one of those people. A staunch traditionalist who expects everyone to obey your every order."

"I can't allow anyone to undermine my command," he said. He grabbed her hand and tucked it into his arm, his grip so tight that he felt the fine bones of her white hand. He gave her no choice but to walk with him as he escorted her to the planned festivities.

"So this is how it's going to be?" she asked, and he heard condemnation in her voice as her composure cracked if only a little. She hadn't intimidated him.

He could smell the trace of rosewater in her hair and felt the warmth of her hand in the crook of his elbow. He had to force himself not to stare at her as he noted the ivory curve of her neck and her face with its slight lines. Both of them were older. If they made it to their wedding night, he'd have to take care when she was under him in bed so that he didn't harm her. He refused to hurt her even if an instinctive part of him already screamed out in desire to claim every fierce inch of her.

"I'll be a good husband to you," he promised.

"I don't want to be your wife."

He decided he'd make her beg for him on their wedding night. "But you will be. We're stuck with each other. Now, if you behave," he noted the way her body tensed as she strode beside him, and he knew she'd never agree to be a traditional Caprican wife, "and refrain from murdering me in my sleep, I'll keep you safe," Bill offered. He felt Laura falter for a fraction of a moment as he promised no small feat. Her proximity to the throne, her lineage, her wealth; it all made her a valuable target. She looked at him with curious eyes.

"You promise?" she asked. "Even if I refuse to be a quiet, obedient wife."

Zeus damn the woman - she was going to turn his life upside down when all he wanted was a calm, simple life where he was respected by the men and women under his command and on his lands. But the flash of true vulnerability he caught in her eyes, even as she maintained her dignified poise, sparked an unexpected protectiveness and surge of desire. Oh Lords spare him.

"I promise."

...

Author's note: Alright, it's a purely fun piece. No beta. No outline. No overthinking. Yes ridiculousness. Yes gratuitous. Yes eventual smut.

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