A/N: Hello all. Thank you so much for the feedback. I want to give a little shout-out to those who reviewed the previous chappie: grimes1970; Momo206; Lavender73; MJRL; Lovelyshmi; Bwy5; jerkchickenz; atm0000; Firefly-class; amberjoy38; Cleo Griffith; ; Nairobia; kalelacrosse; RichonnerTWD; DramionEverlarkPeetatoRichonne; can08writer; thefence; TheFandomrandom; EveAlacran; member00; flacagonzales; and guests.
Okay, so we have a little flashback in this chappie, and some more questions are answered. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!
Seventeen Years Ago
With her posture straight, and her face calm, Michonne sits in front of the mirror. Her Attendant places the finishing touches to her hair; fine pins decorate her elaborate up-do. She smells of jasmine; her lips are painted with a deep crimson that matches her dress. She smiles at her Attendant and thanks them. They are flattered by her kind ways.
"You're ready, my Lady," the Attendant says as they step back.
Michonne stands gracefully and looks at herself in the mirror. She is regal in her gown; sure to turn a few heads at the Festival of Liberalia. It is the first dinner she will have ever attended, now that she is well past her nineteenth birthday. She is not sure what will happen, but is a little nervous, and a little excited. It is the event where the new Tributes will arrive at Court. She will only be allowed to stay for the Procession and the meal, and will have to retire to her quarters when the evening is truly underway, and that is all right by her. She is content with not knowing such things until she herself is a Tribute in some other Fiefdom; she still has a couple of years before she meets that fate.
Michonne, now dressed and made-up, goes to her sitting room, and waits until there is a soft rapping at her door.
"Enter," she calls out, and the door creaks open.
Standing there is her friend, and escort for the evening, Aaron; they share an easy, amicable smile. He waits patiently for his Lady to approach before holding his arm out for her to take. She does so, and the pair make their way to the Great Hall for the Procession of Tributes.
…..
Michonne does not know which way to look. There are a number of young men and women paraded before her father, Lord Lucas. Each as naked as the day they were born, and shackled together by the ankles. They move slowly around the Hall, and come to stop in front of the long table that sits at the front of the room. Each Tribute stands there, with their eyes downcast, and waits for their new Lord to speak. Michonne takes note that they are all shapes, sizes, and colors; all striking and beautiful in their own way. Coyly, at first, she takes them in; then, realizing that they understand their place and situation, she stares.
None of the Tributes dare to raise their gaze as her father speaks to them. He notes that it is a small group this year, and that Tributes will be expected to undertake a wide variety of duties. He comments on their bodies, and what they might be suited to. He does not shift from his seated position behind the table to examine them; Michonne assumes he will wait for her to leave the party before anything physical occurs, as he has always shielded her from such things.
"Daughter," he says, turning his head to her. "What do you think of this year's Tributes?"
Michonne clears her throat. She had not expected to give voice to an opinion at these proceedings and is somewhat surprised. She straightens her posture, and gifts her father with a small smile.
"They're wonderful," she says in earnest. "They will serve you well, Father."
He nods his head, happy that she has remembered all of her courtly training regarding how a Lady must behave at public events.
"They all look so strong and beautiful," she adds, her eyes roaming over them.
The Tributes seem pleased with the young Lady's assessment of them. One Tribute in particular is drawn to the cadence of her rich voice. He cannot help himself, and lifts his head ever so slightly so that he might gaze upon her. She notices the action, and her eyes of obsidian meet piercing sapphire ones. For a moment, it is as if time has frozen them in place. The curly-headed boy does not look away; he watches the young Lady as she regards him and wonders who he is.
…..
Richard Arthur of House Grimes forgets about his training in this moment. All of the lessons that led up to the moment when he would be presented at Court as a Tribute fall away when he lays eyes on Lord Lucas' daughter. He has heard rumours that the girl was a natural beauty, but to see her for himself takes the wind from his lungs. She is stunning, in her crimson dress, and with her hair piled up high.
She sits beside her father holding the young man's gaze. The intensity of her stare causes him to suddenly feel very vulnerable. His rigid sex quivers slightly in excitement; he forgets that it was being lapped at by a young women mere minutes ago. If he had just known how enticing the Lord's daughter was, he would have needed no such encouragement to maintain his erection.
"You!" Lord Lucas interjects, pointing in his direction. "Avert your gaze from my daughter."
Rick drops his head quickly after being caught staring at the lovely young Lady.
"She is here as a guest of honor," Lord Lucas continues. "Not for the pleasure of anyone. Tribute and Courtiers alike will do well to remember that. Guards, unshackle this insolent Tribute and tether him to the wall; his eyes are to be covered."
Immediately, a guard steps forward and releases Rick. They manhandle him and then drag him to the wall. There are a number of chains and cuffs fixed to it. His arms are raised, and his wrists locked inside the steel cuffs. Many of the Courtiers jeer and laugh as a blindfold is placed over his eyes.
Michonne watches the ordeal, and wonders what power she must have, just being the Lady of the House. Power she has not exercised on her own. Power enough that having a Tribute, a Vassal, even look at her is a punishable offence. Her eyes fall on the unfortunate Tribute as he leans his muscular back against the wall. She lets her gaze roam down his firm body. His muscles flex as he shifts about. She ogles him until she drops her eyes to find his large, protruding member. It springs back and forth as the poor wretch finds his balance. Her skin grows warm and a pulsing sets in between her thighs.
She is aroused by the sight of the young man bound and blindfolded. She reaches for her glass of wine and empties it. The sweet liquid doing little to cool her skin or quench her thirst. She clears her throat once more and then turns to Lord Lucas.
"Father," she begins. "May I take my meal in my quarters?"
"Are you feeling well, my child?"
"It's too much excitement for me to stand," she offers. "And I've got a small headache."
"Very well," he says with a soothing smile. "You're excused. I'll send an Attendant with your dinner directly."
With that, Michonne stands and leaves the Great Hall. Her maid follows behind her until they reach her rooms; once inside, the Attendant helps her to disrobe and change into her sleeping attire. Soon thereafter, another Attendant knocks on her door, presumably with her food.
"Bring it in, leave it on the table, and then you're excused for the night," Michonne says, and the maid does as she is told.
Once Michonne is alone, she locks her door, ignores her food, and goes straight to her bed. She cannot get the image of the Tribute out of her mind. She climbs under her covers, extinguishes her lamp, and then sighs loudly. The pulsing in between her legs grows stronger. She closes her eyes tightly, and slips her hand into her damp panties, all the while she pictures the blue-eyed Tribute shackled to the wall.
…..
Fifteen Years Ago
The Councillors and other advisors go through the letters of request from the other Lords and Ladies of other lands. They offer up their best proposals, each knowing that Lord Lucas' daughter to be a rumored beauty who was well-trained with a sword. She was a prize, without a doubt, and having her as a Tribute ensured that the Lord's army would not invade. The young Lady Michonne is a strategic move.
Geoffrey, the Man of Letters, reads out a list of potential Lords and Ladies.
"Lord Seamus has sent two proposals," says Geoffrey. "He is well-to-do and a most hospitable host."
"Seamus' walls are weak and were breached a mere two summers ago," says Lucas. "I cannot leave my daughter in the care of a Lord who does not take better security measures."
"Here, here," agreed many around the table.
"What about Lady Ann?"
"She's a most cruel creature," Lucas replies. "I will not have my daughter under the tutelage of a cruel Mistress."
"Lord Siegfried?"
"For goodness sake," says Lucas. "He is an old man. She should find some enjoyment from her stay; there must be someone younger."
"We've received a proposal from the Citadel," says Geoffrey. "From the young Usurper."
"The one who killed Lord Eoin?" asks Lucas.
"The very same," replies Geoffrey.
"What is his name, this Usurper?"
"He is John, Lord of the Citadel."
"He took that right," says one of the other Councillors.
"He is no Lord," says another.
"Is he of noble blood?" asks Lord Lucas. "Or a merely a Slayer of Lords?"
"I heard he was a vile commoner who murdered Lord Eoin and seized his seat of power," someone comments.
"Let me see his documentation," says Lucas, as Geoffrey rifles through it.
"Ah, interesting," Geoffrey offers.
"Well, what is it?"
"His pedigree shows he is the bastard of the late Lord Eoin."
"Born from a Tribute?" asks Lord Lucas.
"Indeed," replies Geoffrey.
"And raised at Court in the Citadel?"
"No, my Lord," says Geoffrey, as his eyes scan the paperwork. "Raised in an outlying village. His father didn't keep him at Court but instead let him return with the young mother, a Tribute of House Porter."
"Eoin neglected his offspring," Lucas says. "The boy was rightfully his to keep, or does the Citadel not follow the Greater Laws of the Lands?"
"They do, my Lord," Geoffrey explains. "They know that a child born to a Tribute while in residency belongs to the Lord of the land. By right, the Citadel belongs to this young Lord. He is, after all, heir to the seat of power."
"Did he inherit a large army, as well?"
"Not necessarily large," says Geoffrey. "But highly trained. His fighters often do well in tourneys, both at home and abroad."
"And their infrastructure?"
"They claim the Citadel is impenetrable."
"So my daughter would be safe there? Safe from marauders who might try to attack?"
"Yes, Lord Lucas," replies Geoffrey. "She will be quite safe."
Lucas considers the prospect a moment as he reads through Lord John's proposal for himself. He wants his daughter to find some pleasure in her servitude; this Usurper is close to her age. He is strong, and cunning enough to overthrow his father and maintain a steady, certain Lordship over his Vassals. He seems like he may be a good fit. After mulling over the idea a beat longer, Lord Lucas comes to his final, albeit hasty, decision.
"Then so it is," he offers. "My daughter will spend her twelve month residency with the young Lord John until she either chooses to remain in his service, or return to her home. Send a response to Lord John and tell him I will accept his proposal. Have my daughter's terms drawn up. I will inform her, should all be well on the other end, that she'll leave before the month is over."
…..
Presently
"To bring me home?" Lady Michonne asks. "Why now? Why, after all this time is my father looking for me. He hasn't returned any of my letters. He hasn't sent anyone to see what happened to me; why now? After fifteen years, why now?"
She has to steady herself. She does not want to lose her cool in front of a Tribute, no matter who they are. Rick remains quiet a moment; he sees the hurt flash in her eyes. She really has no idea that her father received no word from her in all those years.
"My Lady," says Rick. "Your father hasn't heard from you since you sent that letter saying you would stay at the Citadel after your residency was over."
"Excuse me?" she asks, completely confused. "What letter?"
"My Lady, a letter arrived for Lord Lucas before your term as a Tribute was set to end. In the letter, you told your father that you would be staying to serve the Lord of the Citadel. You told your father not to bother you or to look for you as you had a new Lord."
"I sent no such letter!" Michonne replies, feeling the anger rise inside of her. "The only correspondence I sent was to beg my father to come and get me, and he did not!"
"My Lady," says Rick, lowering his voice. "He didn't get any of those letters from you. When he tried to open up a dialogue with Lord John, he was met with hostility and threats of war."
Lady Michonne hugs the towel close to her body and begins to pace back and forth. Realization sets in: Her father had not abandoned her; her correspondence had been intercepted. She turns her back on Rick, and struggles to hold the tears at bay.
"Why now?" she asks again. "Why didn't he fight for me then?"
"He thought you had made your choice, My Lady," Rick explains. "And when he heard nothing from you, he supposed that you never wanted to speak to him again. Then he received reports that you had died…"
"Why did he send someone now, and not right away, when I needed him?" she asks as tears well in her eyes.
"A trader reported that they had seen you alive and well, My Lady," says Rick. "But your father is an old man and could not afford to travel. If he was found in Lord John's lands, he would be pursuant to the laws of this land and his trespassing would be seen as an act of war."
"So he sent you?"
"He was going to send an army, but was advised against it," Rick explains. "Fiefdoms can't go to war on an unconfirmed report."
"So they sent you to investigate?"
"Yes, but I volunteered," Rick replies, surprising the Her Ladyship.
"Even though it's dangerous and you didn't know if I was alive?"
"Yes, My Lady," says Rick.
"All of this trouble for my father to regain possession of his daughter?" she says, as she turns to face him.
"No, My Lady," he says solemnly, holding her gaze. "All of this is for you."
Rick Grimes' blue eyes peer deep into Lady Michonne's dark brown and she feels as if she is nineteen years old again.
"For me?" she whispers.
Rick kneels before her, bows his head and replies, "Anything for you."