Attaly lay in her bed, shaking still from the threatening night. She could
still feel his fingers on her throat as if they were there. She did not
cry; it was as if she could not. She skipped breakfast, staying in her room
instead. When she climbed out of her bed to dress, it was nearly
midafternoon. She pulled on the dress that had been laid out for her; this
time it was a black lace dress trimmed in silver. The neck was low, and
left space for the silver necklace that had been laid out with the dress.
It was a simple silver chain, with but one thing on it; fastened to the
chain was two words in symbols. It said "" which translated into
"My Sweet". In disgust, Attaly looked at the necklace. She wanted to throw
it out the window, but the king's threat was still fresh in her mind.
Disgusted, she fastened it around her neck. She pulled a brush through her
bed-tangled hair, taking a silver clip to keep it up. She walked out of her
room, and was immediately met by her brothers.
"Well Attaly, you certainly did something about your looks during your stay here!" Griffith joked. She smiled sarcastically, pinching his arm.
"Very funny, Griffith. You won't get away with it either!"
Cal had been examining her necklace.
"Who gave you this?" he asked. Attaly turned away. Cal gripped her shoulder, turning her around.
"Attaly, what's wrong? There's something you aren't telling us. What is it?"
"Father didn't tell you?" she asked him sadly.
"Tell us what?" the two men asked. Attaly turned away. A runner was coming down the corridor as the brothers were about to ask her again.
"M'lords, m'lady, yer presence before His Highness the king is requested. Said he wanted ye to have lunch wif 'im."
Griffith and Cal looked pleased at being invited to have lunch with their lord. Attaly however felt quite different. She said nothing, but glided along silently behind her brothers.
This time lunch was taken in the king's spare chambers. Attaly shivered; she did not like being in his private chambers. Again, there were not many inconveniences. Raleigh again chose to sit near her, and made it a habit to reach for the same glass as she. They moved to another room again after lunch. Her father and Raleigh talked for an hour or two. Nearing the end, Griffith and Cal asked to be excused, saying that they needed to get back to their guilds. Cadafan left soon after. As he neared the door, Attaly stood to leave as well. Raleigh called out to her. "Attaly, please stay. There is something I need to discuss with you." Attaly froze. Turning slowly, she sat upon a couch far away from him. When Cadafan's footsteps had died away, Raleigh stood and went to Attaly. Putting his wineglass down, he sat next to her. When she tried to move away, he gripped her wrists, pulling her towards him. She turned away from him.
"Don't learn your lessons well, do you?" he asked. Attaly faced him.
"What do you want, my lord?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm and steady. Instead of answering, Raleigh gripped her back, pulling her so close that she could feel his warm breath on her face. For a moment, she let her guard down, and her body went slack in Raleigh's arms. He pulled her onto his lap, then gripped her face in one large hand. Holding her face steady, Raleigh kissed her. Soon his hand went from her back to her bodice laces. Tangling his hands in the laces, he pulled at them, taking them from their ties. Attaly started to fight him.
"Let go of me," she gasped when Raleigh pulled away from her for breath.
"Leave me alone!" She beat at him with tiny fists, trying to push him away. He seized both wrists in one hand, still using the other to undo her laces. Pulling the bodice off of her, he went to work at the buttons that held together her blouse. Attaly cried now in fear and desperation.
"Raleigh, get off of me! Please, leave me be!" in a final twist, Attaly rolled from under him onto the floor below her. His fingers caught around her throat as she fought to get away from him. Now they tightened, his other hand about to undo the last of her buttons on the blouse. She scrambled to her knees as Raleigh pulled her upward by the throat. Tears ran from her eyes, tears of pain and fear.
"Stop, please," she croaked. She could barley breath. "My lord, please, let go of me, I beg of you!" Raleigh undid the last of her blouse's buttons. His fingers eased slightly, his other hand taking her by the elbow to pull her up onto the couch again. He released her, and she collapsed against the arm of the couch, clutching at her blouse. She gasped for breath, trying to fill her aching lungs. Raleigh's fingers slid over her once again, this time gentle and careful. He caressed her arm. She shivered under his touch. When her lungs had taken their fill of air, she moved trembling hands to her blouse, trying to steady it on her shoulders. Raleigh brushed her hands away. The blouse clung to her sweat soaked body, drawing the king's attention. Tears poured down her cheeks, frustration showed in her face. Raleigh seemed to be fighting with himself. Finally, he moved away from the frightened girl, leaving her to dress herself. With quivering hands she pulled the blouse onto her shoulders, her hands shaking almost too much to button it. She put her bodice on as well, tying the laces tightly. Raleigh turned to her. He moved closer to her, but not so close that she felt she should move. She still visibly shook.
"I am sorry, Attaly." He said. "I keep forgetting that you are only fifteen. You are too mature for your own good." Attaly looked down. Raleigh sighed. "Go to your room. Tomorrow the kingdom will know you are my betrothed. If you can, try to stay away from me until you have matured enough. Go." Attaly stood, digesting his words. She said one thing before leaving.
"Raleigh, I am not a child. Nor am I a prostitute."
She left the room quickly, nearly running. There were things she needed to think about.
"Well Attaly, you certainly did something about your looks during your stay here!" Griffith joked. She smiled sarcastically, pinching his arm.
"Very funny, Griffith. You won't get away with it either!"
Cal had been examining her necklace.
"Who gave you this?" he asked. Attaly turned away. Cal gripped her shoulder, turning her around.
"Attaly, what's wrong? There's something you aren't telling us. What is it?"
"Father didn't tell you?" she asked him sadly.
"Tell us what?" the two men asked. Attaly turned away. A runner was coming down the corridor as the brothers were about to ask her again.
"M'lords, m'lady, yer presence before His Highness the king is requested. Said he wanted ye to have lunch wif 'im."
Griffith and Cal looked pleased at being invited to have lunch with their lord. Attaly however felt quite different. She said nothing, but glided along silently behind her brothers.
This time lunch was taken in the king's spare chambers. Attaly shivered; she did not like being in his private chambers. Again, there were not many inconveniences. Raleigh again chose to sit near her, and made it a habit to reach for the same glass as she. They moved to another room again after lunch. Her father and Raleigh talked for an hour or two. Nearing the end, Griffith and Cal asked to be excused, saying that they needed to get back to their guilds. Cadafan left soon after. As he neared the door, Attaly stood to leave as well. Raleigh called out to her. "Attaly, please stay. There is something I need to discuss with you." Attaly froze. Turning slowly, she sat upon a couch far away from him. When Cadafan's footsteps had died away, Raleigh stood and went to Attaly. Putting his wineglass down, he sat next to her. When she tried to move away, he gripped her wrists, pulling her towards him. She turned away from him.
"Don't learn your lessons well, do you?" he asked. Attaly faced him.
"What do you want, my lord?" she asked, trying to keep her voice calm and steady. Instead of answering, Raleigh gripped her back, pulling her so close that she could feel his warm breath on her face. For a moment, she let her guard down, and her body went slack in Raleigh's arms. He pulled her onto his lap, then gripped her face in one large hand. Holding her face steady, Raleigh kissed her. Soon his hand went from her back to her bodice laces. Tangling his hands in the laces, he pulled at them, taking them from their ties. Attaly started to fight him.
"Let go of me," she gasped when Raleigh pulled away from her for breath.
"Leave me alone!" She beat at him with tiny fists, trying to push him away. He seized both wrists in one hand, still using the other to undo her laces. Pulling the bodice off of her, he went to work at the buttons that held together her blouse. Attaly cried now in fear and desperation.
"Raleigh, get off of me! Please, leave me be!" in a final twist, Attaly rolled from under him onto the floor below her. His fingers caught around her throat as she fought to get away from him. Now they tightened, his other hand about to undo the last of her buttons on the blouse. She scrambled to her knees as Raleigh pulled her upward by the throat. Tears ran from her eyes, tears of pain and fear.
"Stop, please," she croaked. She could barley breath. "My lord, please, let go of me, I beg of you!" Raleigh undid the last of her blouse's buttons. His fingers eased slightly, his other hand taking her by the elbow to pull her up onto the couch again. He released her, and she collapsed against the arm of the couch, clutching at her blouse. She gasped for breath, trying to fill her aching lungs. Raleigh's fingers slid over her once again, this time gentle and careful. He caressed her arm. She shivered under his touch. When her lungs had taken their fill of air, she moved trembling hands to her blouse, trying to steady it on her shoulders. Raleigh brushed her hands away. The blouse clung to her sweat soaked body, drawing the king's attention. Tears poured down her cheeks, frustration showed in her face. Raleigh seemed to be fighting with himself. Finally, he moved away from the frightened girl, leaving her to dress herself. With quivering hands she pulled the blouse onto her shoulders, her hands shaking almost too much to button it. She put her bodice on as well, tying the laces tightly. Raleigh turned to her. He moved closer to her, but not so close that she felt she should move. She still visibly shook.
"I am sorry, Attaly." He said. "I keep forgetting that you are only fifteen. You are too mature for your own good." Attaly looked down. Raleigh sighed. "Go to your room. Tomorrow the kingdom will know you are my betrothed. If you can, try to stay away from me until you have matured enough. Go." Attaly stood, digesting his words. She said one thing before leaving.
"Raleigh, I am not a child. Nor am I a prostitute."
She left the room quickly, nearly running. There were things she needed to think about.