Shackles of In-Laws
Warning: Chapter is rated concentrated cherry. (-Lemon)
How many times have you (if married) have ever wondered about how to escape the clutches of your in-laws, most of whom are patriaches of their families and steadfast believers of the age old human principles of procreation, marital harmony and no divorce. If you don't have such an in-law, good for you. You are the 0.000001% of priviledged people in our society. No offense to in-laws. It's called the generation gap.
As such, even for someone who is unmarried, we can feel the pressure of the stereotypes we will have from the in-laws. They have certain expectations of us, and they will demand us to fulfill these expectations, sometimes even plan the pathway for fulfilling these lofty ambitions of theirs.
Thus, being married would mean to recognise the in-laws as family, and therefore also means the acceptance of full responsibility to the demands of the in-laws
This is not a bachelor/bachelorette advertisement.
Struggling to keep her eyes open, she stabbed at the sausage rolling around in her plate. Her eyelids felt as though they were made of lead, and her neck seemed to weigh a thousand tons. It took her much effort and strength just to make sure that she did not fall asleep, face buried in her plate of yellow scrambled eggs.
I must have taken one pill too many last night, she pondered mentally. Finding great trouble in falling asleep, she had taken one pill every five minutes till she drifted off. Considering she had spent approximately half an hour trying to induce sleep, she had popped roughly six sleeping pills last night alone? Gosh…why am I still alive…she groaned mentally. She had heard stories of people ending their lives by ingesting five sleeping pills at one go. Why was she still walking on the surface of the earth?
"Good morning mother." Joshua yawned as he walked into the dining room. "Good morning Marisa."
"Good morning Joshua," Queen Ismaire said cheerily. "Yawn with your mouth closed dear."
"Sorry Mother," he stifled another yawn.
"You forgot to kiss Marisa," the Queen continued disapprovingly.
She saw him looking across the table at her. It was merely yesterday when, under this very table, they had spent that awkward moment picking up the fork. She kept her eyes averted, looking everywhere, anywhere, except at him.
She heard his chair being pulled back, making a muffled scraping noise on the carpeted floor. She felt the table shake as he got up, arm accidentally banging onto the table. She listened to the sound of his footsteps as he made his way across the carpet, around the Queen's chair, until he stood next to her.
She could feel the heat radiating from his body. Faster and faster her heart raced as he leant forward, closing the distance between them. They were in such close proximity that a few strands of his hair brushed her forehead. Her mind was flooded by his musky scent, a smell that she had grown fond of. Gently, she closed her eyes for what was to come…
His lips brushed her foreword briefly, and that was all. She opened her eyes and saw him making his way back to his seat. It was almost a non-existent kiss, like a light brush of a butterfly's wing. Is he still angry with me? She wondered in disappointment. She had hoped for the lingering kiss he gave her customarily every morning, the one that left a tingling sensation on her forehead that filled her with warmth.
"Now," Queen Ismaire said, patting her lips delicately with a silk napkin. "I was just thinking. The two of you have been married for a little more than three months right?"
"Yes mother," Joshua affirmed as he lifted the wine glass to his lips.
She nodded in corroboration as she chewed on the mouthful of scrambled eggs. Hmm…too much pepper today…
"Exactly!" Queen Ismaire clasped her hands excitedly. "I was wondering, my dear, when the two of you would give me a grandson?"
The effect of her words was instantaneous. Joshua spit out the entire mouthful of red wine onto the tablecloth, resulting in a red-stained scrambled egg and a lovely splatter design across the formerly pristine white tablecloth.
She did not fare any better, having nearly swallowed her fork in shock.
"Joshua!" Queen Ismaire chided. "That's extremely vulgar!" She shook her head at the mess created on the table and looked disapprovingly at her son. "Besides, you should have given some thought to producing an heir for Jehanna. You are the future king to the throne, and it would be lovely if I can have a few grandchildren running around."
She paled as she clutched the fork. A few?
"But mother!" Joshua protested. "Are we not too young? I'm merely 22 this year and Marisa barely turned 20."
Exactly, she thought.
"Nonsense, Joshua," Queen Ismaire dismissed his argument easily. "I was pregnant with you when I was 18 years of age, and look at you! You turned out to be a fine young man without problems."
Really? She mentally questioned the Queen's definition of 'without problems'.
"But Mother!" Joshua tried again, but the Queen silenced him with an admonishing look.
"Now Joshua," Queen Ismaire said severely. "Surely you can fulfill your mother's little wish in this area? The two of you are married, and I see no problem in two married people raising a kid together."
Of course! She doesn't know the reason why Joshua married me! Marisa frowned. Things were getting a little out of hand, and it was his fault. If he had married his beloved Natasha at the start it would have saved him and her, as well as the entire royal family and court of ministers, a lot of unnecessary trouble.
She glared at him across the table, as though to say 'I told you something bad would happen out of this'.
He caught the murderous glare, and sighed. "Okay Mother, what do you want us to do then," he asked resignedly.
"Make babies!" Queen Ismaire said it as though it was the easiest thing in the world. "The more the merrier. I checked with the maids, and apparently our castle can hold up to 50 children with plenty of room for more!"
Fifty? She nearly fainted in horror. She wants us to have fifty children? Does she want me to be pregnant until I am ninety-nine?
"Of course you need not have so many," Queen Ismaire reassured. Joshua's colouring returned a little. "But I expect at least one heir to the Jehannan throne. Are you two sharing a room?"
"No Mother," Joshua replied tensely.
"Very well," Queen Ismaire clapped her hands. "From today onwards, the two of you would live together as a proper married couple and have a single room. I have arranged for the west wing to be cleaned out for the two of you. You will have a sitting room for your leisure, a study and your bedroom, enough and well-furnished enough for two people." She sighed dreamily. "When I was young, your father and I used to stay there two, and we would sit, hand in hand, watching the sunset together at the window…"
Is there a way out of this arrangement? She thought frantically. The idea of sharing a room with Joshua was…bizarre. She did not particularly want to think about all the potential conflicts that would happen. They currently stayed in two rooms and they have had tons of conflicts, big and small, in the common room. If they stayed together…hopefully the west wing would still be standing in one week's time.
"And don't think of worming out of this arrangement, Joshua," Queen Ismaire warned. "If I hear anything of either one of you sneaking away from living together I shall not hesitate to give the offender a good lecture and no dinner for the next five weeks. Am I clear?"
"Yes, Mother," Joshua said.
"Yes, Queen Mother," she parroted. What else could she do? Cry? Throw a tantrum? Gosh, she moaned in despair. Life is so unfair. Why didn't I take a pill or two more last night? It would have put me out of this misery for good…
"Well then, good!" Queen Ismaire said in delight. "I expect to see the results of my hard work and planning in a few months' time. If there is good news, Marisa, do tell me as quick as you can. The continuation of the royal heirs of Jehanna rests on your shoulders, my dear."
Oh great…she refrained from voluntarily banging her head into the scrambled eggs. Just great.
She was in the cherry tree again, out of sheer desperation. From her position on the tree, she could see the maids and servants busily transporting all her belongings and her entire wardrobe over to the west wing.
Belle stood in the middle of the line of people. "Yes!" She bellowed. "That thing goes into the new wardrobe. No, don't bring that along, the other one on the left. Yes! Thank you so much!"
She smiled. Belle was such an enthusiastic and dependent maidservant. A little noisy at times (especially about palace gossip), she was nonetheless very sharp, discerning and clever. While other maids had to be instructed once or twice to ensure no miscommunication, Belle got things done after the first time. She was efficient, and Marisa approved of it.
She had just finished a sparring session with Joshua, which had ended in a tie again, the two of them both pitching their swords at each other's throats. They had fought for 3 times this week and it was their third tie. Was there never going to be a winner at this rate?
Immediately after the sparring match, Joshua had rushed off to attend a meeting of the House of Ministers, apparently to discuss sensitive war issues, thus leaving her alone in the garden with little to do but watch the servants scurry around like busy little ants.
The leaves rustled, signaling an intruder. Soft footsteps crept up behind her. She didn't even need to turn back to look to know who that was. The sounds his feet made were deeply entrenched in her mind ever since the day she had fell victim to his sudden assault.
"Hey, Rennac," she greeted. "I know you're behind."
The soft footsteps stopped and were replaced by enormously loud creaks and cracking that sounded as though an elephant was stomping through the tree.
"Damn!" He plopped down beside her on the branch. "I was hoping to scare you a little and steal that little necklace of yours for a nice tidy sum."
She unclasped the necklace and threw it to him. "If you like it, take it," she shrugged.
His eyes widened to the size of saucers as he stared at the necklace, at her, and back at the necklace. "Are you kidding?" he exclaimed, fingering the jewels on the necklace. "This thing's probably worth more money than what I've ever had in my whole life. Gosh, you're my saint, princess! Why didn't you appear sooner in my life? Then I would have been able to enjoy life by living on your hand-outs."
She rolled her eyes at his eloquence. "Couldn't you just say thanks instead of a speech?"
"I'm offended princess," he said in mock grumpiness, folding his arms together and wearing an exaggerated frown. "You don't know how to appreciate the beauty of my speech."
She could not help herself but laugh at the ridiculous expression on his face. Satisfied that he had made her laugh, Rennac turned his attention to the surroundings. "Hmm…what are those people doing, moving furniture around?"
"Queen Ismaire wants Joshua and I to have a baby so she can be a grandmother, so she is making us share a room and a bed in the hopes that Jehanna can get an heir," she groaned. She did not need reminding of her horrific life. "Don't laugh."
"Really?" Rennac could barely contain the smirk on his face. Every line on his face screamed 'I'm going to burst into uncontrollable laughter'
She gave him her signature glare that promised a slow painful death if he dared to let a guffaw escape his lips.
"That-ahem-is certainly an-ahem-extraordinary circumstance-ahem ahem" Rennac said, coughing into his hand incessantly, most likely in a bid to hide his laughter.
She narrowed her eyes dangerously.
""Well-ahem-you mean the two of you haven't done anything at all ever since you were married?" Rennac asked in disbelief. He was trying really hard to conceal the snigger on his face.
"We kissed, twice," she confessed.
"Kissed? Twice?" Rennac exploded into laughter, finally, after restraining himself for the past five minutes. "Oh lords! Prince Joshua does have some uber-good self-control. Either that or he's gay!" He burst out into further raucous laughter, holding the thick branch for support as his body jerked with every laugh.
She raised her foot and gave him a sound kick in the shin. "Shut up, damn you," she swore. "Someone will hear you."
He did not even seem to have felt the kick. Hiccupping from his recent bout of uncontrollable laughter, he dried the tears that had formed in his eyes. "Oh lords, this is the darn funniest joke I've heard in my life-oh second funniest!"
"What's the funniest?" she asked curiously.
"That L'Arachel is quiet," he snickered.
Okay, that is pretty funny. She laughed in spite of herself as she pictured the princess of Rausten shutting up for even half a second. "Who said that?"
"L'Arachel herself," he grinned.
She burst out into laughter, just as he had a minute ago. L'Arachel and quiet were antonyms in a dictionary, complete antithesis of each other. No way could L'Arachel think that she was quiet. If that was quiet, what would noisy refer to?
"Oh, the last time I checked, Princess Quiet is going to visit you sometime soon," he said casually. "She said that she wanted to check up on you and talk to you. She claimed that you made an attentive listener."
"Anyone can be an attentive listener beside her," she replied. "She forces them to listen with her voice. It drowns out everything else."
Rennac snickered in response. "Oh yeah. I wanted to ask you," he said, leaning in closer to her, eyebrows moving suggestively. "What are you going to wear tonight huh?"
"Wear?" She frowned. "The usual I guess, one of these robe things." She gestured to her robe. What else could she wear? She always wore these to sleep. Even though she still preferred her convenient shirt and skirt, the robes were definitely more comfortable, and less warm.
Rennac raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you going to…you know…explore the boundaries of married life a bit?"
"What?" She answered, flustered.
"Are you pretending to be dumb, or are you dumb?" Rennac muttered. "You know, to get a kid, the two of you must…you know…do something…natural procreation…reproduction in humans and mammals…the bees, birds, flowers and whatever the hell there is in the plant kingdom?"
"Bees and birds aren't plants," she pointed out.
He waved her remark aside. "Listen to grandpapa Rennac," he suggested. "Wear something nice and lacy, hopefully a little on the transparent side."
"What!" she exclaimed in outrage. That was completely uncalled for. Who was he to tell her what to wear to bed with Joshua?
"Shush Princess, not done yet." He hushed her irritably. "You should try and find something red or black too. He'll definitely like it. Oh, and satin works well, or other kinds of silk. And make sure the robe has a sleek cutting with a low neckline, a clinched waist and slightly flayed at the skirt. The bottom of the robe must be at least two inches above the middle of your thiggggaahhhhhhhhhhhh!"
Picking himself up in a hurry, he raced off the cherry tree and clambered onto the wall just as she unsheathed her shamshir. Standing cockily on the wall, he yelled. "Hey princess! Remember what I taught you! You must do it tonight okay? And tell me Prince Joshua's reaction after that! Thanks for the necklace. BYEEEEEEEEE!" He leapt off the wall in a hurry.
Wise move.
Had he been standing there for a second longer, two daggers would have sliced his face into ribbons.
Sheathing her shamshir again, Marisa let out a disgruntled sigh.
That man was hopeless, truly hopeless.
Queen Ismaire bestowed upon them a benign parental smile as she gestured to the dessert. "I personally ordered the cooks to prepare these for you instead of the usual sugary pastries. They're very nutritious and drinking it will give you a lot of health benefits."
After a heavy dinner consisting of a starter of fruit salad (strawberries, raspberries and bananas mixed with dark chocolate sauce), a main course of oysters (raw and opened fresh by the attendants and served with thick ginger paste) and a few glasses of wine, Marisa certainly felt extremely full and was disinclined to drink the dubious-looking dessert.
It was plain brown in colour, and there were strange looking herbs floating in the soup. Queen Ismaire had called it a sweet soup, but from experience (and the pungent herbal smell that flooded her olfactory senses), it was likely so bitter that she would cry while drinking it.
"Why are you not drinking this, Mother?" Joshua voiced his doubts as well. He eyed the soup with vague caution. "If it is so good for the health everyone should partake in it, especially you, Mother."
"Oh no, dear," Queen Ismaire replied. "As you can see, my mild indigestion is creating havoc for my…ah…abdomen again, and I partook in only porridge for dinner. Drinking herbal soup would most certainly cause a further disturbance in my already discordant stomach. I'll drink it some other time."
Satisfied with his mother's response, Joshua lifted the bowl and drank the soup in one gulp, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "Yucks," he pulled a face. "Tastes disgusting."
"Joshua, napkins are on the table, not on your arm," Queen Ismaire said severely. "And things that taste disgusting are sometimes good for your health." Turning around, she faced Marisa and waited expectantly.
Seeing as even the Queen was waiting for her, Marisa dismissed the crazy notion that the soup might be poisoned and gulped it down as well. She wiped her mouth on the napkin provided on the table.
"It tastes…decent…" She was lying through her teeth. It tasted just like traditional medicine. Bitter and disgusting. Wasn't all those herbal stuff thrown away when staves came into the picture?
"Good," Queen Ismaire beamed at her. "Now my dear, go retire for the night. You must be tired from a day's work."
Letting out a sigh of contentment, she lounged in the warm water. Although she did not especially like the new developments with regards to her lodging, the large and comfortable bathroom was one of the additions for which she had no complaints.
It was large and spacious, with a miniature pool for a bathtub. When filled with warm water, it was extremely relaxing to soak in the marble tub and sleep the hours away. Or if she was extremely bored, she could count the number of crystals on the chandelier that hung above the tub.
She had been bathing for the past two hours, and her skin was getting wrinkly, something which she detested. It took away the acute sense of touch from her fingertips, and it was extremely unnerving to her to touch something and not feel the precise fibres, singular threads and individual grains.
Stepping out of the bathtub, she grabbed the white fleecy towel and dried herself and her hair. Satisfied that she was no longer damp and dripping, she looked around for her clothes, which Belle should have laid out on the silver rack by the towels.
To her utmost horror (and shock of course), she did not find her usual robes. In its place was a piece of red lacy silk thing that she could hardly identify as hers. She would never wear those kinds of clothes. Warily, she held it up, only to discover that not only was it literally transparent, it had an impossibly low neckline and a lacy hemline that stopped two inches above middle of the length of her thigh.
It sounded exactly like what Rennac had described to her this very afternoon, and the uncanny resemblance was shocking enough to start a series of crazy hypothesizing in her head, some of which included that Rennac had somehow managed to sneak in and exchange her clothes as a kind of a joke.
She cleared her head. No, that was impossible. That hopeless fellow was probably still haggling over the price of her necklace with some unfortunate broker somewhere in the middle of Rausten probably.
There was no other alternative but to wear that piece of thing that some damned genius classified as clothing, or walk out naked. The second option was even more unappealing than the first. Or there were still the towels…
She grabbed the towel, and sighed. Since when did they provide only one towel, and since when did they provide towels long enough to only cover half of an average human's body?
Okay, so she was left with no alternative.
Hesitantly, she slipped on the piece of satin and lace and looked at herself in the mirror.
Her brain nearly blacked out.
The robe was purely a joke. It was probably created by someone who lived in an oven, who needed as little clothes as possible to withstand the heat.
She took a few deep breaths. She was going to need as much courage she could muster, and a little more courage from the surroundings. Maybe she could grab some from the air or something.
Things didn't bode well…
Taking one last deep breath, she closed her eyes and opened the door.
"Ah! Marisa! You're finally done," Joshua said, still reading the parchments that detailed the outline of the next meeting of ministers. "I was wondering when-oh…"
Her face almost burst into flames as he scrutinized her closely, not blinking even once. His eyes made a downward trip, then did a turn and continued upwards, followed by another downward journey.
She desperately needed to dive into the blankets.
She did exactly as her brain told her to do. Taking a few large steps, she pounced on the bed as far away from Joshua as possible. Tugging all the blankets to her side in a few handfuls, she covered every inch of herself from the neck down.
Oops.
She realized too late that she now shared a blanket with Joshua, and by wrapping herself tightly with the blanket he was uncovered.
Although she did attempt to resist, she still succumbed to the temptation of looking at him. Her eyes traveled down his fringe falling messily over his forehead to the fine line of his square determined jaw. Her gaze went lower and traced expense of his wide shoulders and lingered on his toned chest. Looking lower still, she marveled with open admiration the firm muscles on his abdomen. She longed to stretch and run her fingers over his bronze tanned skin, over his lean muscles.
She swallowed.
Were they are firm as they look?
"Ahem," Joshua coughed embarrassedly. "Sorry, I don't wear much to sleep, just a pair of boxer shorts. Jehanna is a bit on the warm side."
Flushing to the roots of her hair, she turned away and threw him half of the blankets, before flinging herself onto the bed and wrapping herself up tightly.
A single candle burnt slowly in one corner of the room, releasing a musky rose scent that seemed to messing with her mind.
Come on Marisa, sleep normally, she urged herself mentally, closing her eyes tightly. Don't let yourself be influenced by Joshua's presence. Pretend no one's there in the bed with yourself. It was a bit hard to ignore the musky scent that was currently enveloping her. It was also a little difficult to pretend that nothing was there on the other side of the bed when there was obviously a warm pressing heat radiating from his body.
"Marisa?" Joshua asked, his voice muffled by the pillow.
She turned around. "What?"
"Don't you feel that it's getting…a bit…cold?" he asked, holding up his arm. There were goose-bumps lining his skin.
She shook her head, despite the fact that her teeth were chattering and she was shivering uncontrollably all over.
"Liar," he teased affectionately. "Come here." Without waiting for her response he placed one arm on her waist and shifted her closer to him, till they were snuggled against each other. "We can't have you catch a cold, can we?"
She lay tensely in his embrace, like a rabbit in a fox's paws. What did he want? This is such a dangerous position to be in.
"Those people," he mumbled. "Turning off the heat just to make us sleep huddled together. Are you still cold now?"
She shook her head, the back of her head against his chest. Her back was tightly pressed against his torso. His arms clasped firmly around her waist. She was thankful for the relative darkness, otherwise he could see her face turning the colour of an apple.
She shifted slightly to make herself more comfortable, but accidentally brushed against him. She could hear his sharp intake of breath.
Damn…I just encouraged him…oh no…now what…will I survive…why didn't I take one more sleeping pill last night…if he touches me anymore I shall scream…no I shall leap up and mash him into pulp…wait where's my shamshir…oh no I don't have my shamshir with me right now…shall I go get it…no wait but this position is comfortable…I can feel his heartbeat and every line of the muscles on his torso…he's so well-built…wait why I am thinking about this…no you shall not think about his gorgeous muscles…did I just say that…oh no I'm incorrigible…I think I'm poisoned…the soup must have been laced with some poison to make me irrational…but just as well it allows me to fantasise about him…NO YOU SHALL NOT FANTASISE ABOUT HIM…okay so no fantasizing but is imagining allowed…NO NONE OF THAT SORT STOP THINKING ABOUT HIM…right like I am not trying…TRY HARDER…he's too gorgeous and well-built and muscular…DON'T SAY THAT…I'm think I'm a little bit horny today…YES YOU ARE YOU JUST REALISED…hmmm I wonder why that is so…QUEEN ISMAIRE DRUGGED THE SOUP…oh of course the soup of all evils…YESSS…but he drank it too…WHAT OH WHAT OH NOOOOO…may I survive tonight…
When the candle finally burnt out (and her conversation in her mind finally ended), they lay in that position, neither moving, neither sleeping. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, the warmth that enveloped her body. She knew that he was awake too, judging from his heavy breathing and the strong beating of his heart.
"Marisa?" he whispered.
She kept silent and lay still, feigning sleep. As he leant forward towards her, she closed her eyes tightly.
His hand lightly brushed her cheeks. Gently, he tucked a few flyaway hairs back behind her ear. "You're beautiful when you sleep, Marisa," he whispered tenderly.
She strained to prevent herself from flinching at his touch. It wasn't unpleasant, merely that she was not used to such intimate gestures.
"I know you won't want a child; our marriage was a farce after all," he sighed. "I won't force you." Silence. "But…sometimes I feel as though we really are a married couple. Don't you?" He sighed again. "I may not be able to control myself around you anymore…my self-control is not all that fantastic."
A pair of lips brushed against her forehead affectionately, lingering briefly. "So if that time ever comes, forgive me, love."
She felt him lie back down on the bed and circled his arms around her once more. Slowly, his breathing slowed down and became shallow.
His words still fresh in her mind, she drifted into the sea of dreams.
Author's Note:
Teehee! This is a chapter for fangirlism XDDDDD ALL HAIL JOSHUAMARISA! *bows down*
I warned yeh it was cherry concentrated *wink wink* Haha, but nothing explicit, right? You could hardly count physical descriptions like honeyed thighs and chocolate abs as lemon right? *nudge nudge nudge* Guess who has them XDDD
Sorry, a little on the irrational side. I think writing about the drugged soup poisoned me too.
BTW, I shall assume that everyone knows about the aprodisiacs? I spent such a LONG time finding suitable ones. Can you imagine? Avocado is an aphrodisiac, apparently. o.0 I find nothing vaguely romantic about pulpy pale green flesh that looks like face masks. o.0 Sorry avocados, no love between you and I.
Love luv luv ~ snowylavendermist (starry night, 9.20 pm, in an irrational mode, turning into an irrational fraction of her true self *haha*)