A Kingdom for a Song (Wade Amore/Mim)

[Madam Mim]

This was for her people and her country. Innis had to keep repeating that to herself while she rode south from Glasgow to England. She didn't know why she of all people had been chosen; she wasn't a princess or even some noble, just a farmer's daughter from a little village in the north. But her father had told her to go and so she went. It was probably so the nobility wouldn't have to sacrifice their own daughters, she reflected bitterly. Well fine. If they wanted to show some pompous prince that they cared so little for him that they would send a peasant to be his bride, so be it. She'd be eaten alive at court, even she knew that, but maybe when her husband was king she would be able to soften his heart toward her homeland. Perhaps she could even convince him to give Scotland back her freedom. There. That wasn't all bad, she supposed. And at least she had a horse for the trip down.

Innis didn't know her husband, or even who he was. All she knew was that he was some Northumbrian prince and that she had been sold to him as the price of peace with the conquerors from the south. She didn't know how old he was, what he looked like, or even his name. All she knew was that one day she would be queen, a task she was wholly unprepared for, and that the best she could hope for was that he was kind and maybe handsome. Innis had tried asking the three English guards escorting her what he was like, but they refused to say. In fact they had ignored her for most of the three day journey to Northumberland. She would have all of half a day to look around her new home before marrying him, and whether or not she would actually get to meet him first was still up in the air. It was hard to believe as they walked across the drawbridge into the courtyard that three days ago she had bid a tearful farewell to her childhood sweetheart and in less than twelve hours she was to be married. Her younger brother, who was fifteen and felt he had everything to prove, had only been half-joking when he'd given her his knife and told her it was for stabbing the bastard.

Once in the courtyard she slid off of her horse. She wanted to walk it to the stables, but the guards had handed the reigns to a stable boy and hurried her toward the great hall. Even if she didn't get to meet her husband, she would have to meet her father-in-law. The king looked critically down on her from his throne while she held a deep curtsy, keeping her eyes down. Innis had never met a king, but avoiding eye contact seemed to keep the English officials who (illegally) governed her village from booting her in the mouth.

"Do you speak English, girl?" he asked after a long pause.

"Aye, yer highness." The less she spoke, the better.

"Stand up. Let me look at you." She did as she was told and he stepped down from the dais to circle her. She felt like a horse being inspected before being sold off. "Well, they sent a pretty one I'll give them that much. Too skinny!" She jumped when he tapped her hip with the back of his hand. She had always thought of herself as well-formed and fairly solid, with hips plenty wide enough for bearing children, but apparently this wasn't enough for him.

"With all due respect, m'lord," she said carefully, still staring straight ahead to avoid eye contact, "feedin' a family is very difficult when there's naught to go 'round, bein' all taken up by taxes and the like. If I'm too skinny, it's coz I'm under-fed."

She stiffened when the king circled back around to her front to stare hard at her. "You are very fortunate you must look presentable for my son's wedding," he snarled, "or else you would pay the price for that insolence. Your backwater country is lucky to have been brought to heel; nothing but heathens dancing in the mud, every last one of you. I know you may not be used to it, but from now on you will keep a civil tongue in your head or you will feel the lash. Do I make that clear."

She swallowed. "Aye, m'lord."

"Good." A pause. "What's your name, girl?"

"Innis, yer highness."

He snorted. "And you've been baptized?"

"Aye."

"With a heathen name like Innis?"

"Aye."

Another pause. The king jutted out his chin, then sighed. "I suppose the only way to make your people accept the facts is to give them a Scottish princess with a Scottish name. It'll have to do."

"Thank ye, m'lord."

He stopped and stared hard at her again, as though suspicious of her tone. Finally he waved his hand. "Take her away. Clean her up and make her presentable for tomorrow. She'll have supper in her room."

Innis resisted the urge to yank her arm away from the guard escorting her. Instead she went obediently with them and allowed servants to scrub her skin and brush her hair. They seemed unused to someone trying to help them and kept insisting that they do it themselves. Supper was cold by the time they had finished, but it wasn't anything she was unused to. Despite the softness of the bed, a fitful night's sleep gripped her and left her in the morning feeling as though she hadn't slept at all. Servants woke her just before the dawn to get her ready, and the sun had only been up an hour by the time she was being escorted to the chapel on the other side of the castle. Innis's heart lept into her mouth when the doors opened and she stepped into the center aisle between the pews. A harp played and her knees nearly buckled with each step. There, standing at the altar, was her husband.

 

[Wade Von Doom]

Cyneric I of England. Prince to the throne, and nicknamed 'Cyneric the Beloved.' But not for the reasons you might suspect. While he was fairly enjoyed by the populace, if only because he looked much handsomer than his father, Cyneric was a hound. He enjoyed the company of women, parties filled with fine wine, and the privileges his royal family riches gave him. For leading a country, Cyneric had no place being near the throne, as he was clueless about politics, and cared little for it. Really, if his siblings got the throne first, fine by him, as long as he kept the riches in return. He wasn't as brattish as his siblings, or as selfish, but he was certainly a naive lad when it came to the manners of others. He treated people well enough that he wouldn't insult them, but things he said sometimes could easily be interpreted as such. If you didn't realize he wasn't too self-aware of himself, you'd think he was worse than his father. At least with Cyneric, his racist views were just misguided, and not deep rooted.

He wasn't aware of things outside the kingdom, and had never even traveled that far away from the kingdom. He'd been on a boat out on the waters, but it was never more than a few miles off shore. At 20 years of age, it was time he was to be married, and as per usual, the plan was to marry him to a noble woman of wealth and political influence to the other kingdoms. But two things happened: First, Cyneric was caught with one of the house-carers in his bed, by his father, who had come to check up on the boy, since he hadn't been seen all day. Didn't help other nobles were with him when this happened. The marriage was cut off once news reached his fiance. The second thing was Scotland. It was becoming quite abrasive and troublesome, with riots and rebels starting to become more present as the months went on. It was feared a full on rebellion would occur, and manpower was something they could not waste. The war with France was kicking in, and they would need as many troops available as possible.

With no wife for his son, and the Scottish people in uproar, a rash decision was made. To calm the populace, an idea was presented where Cyneric would be given a wife of pure Scottish blood. It would be a peasant, one who they could easily use and manipulate to help sway the masses in their favor. If news reached that the prince had married a Scottish pure blood to the masses of Scotland, it could calm the masses down, at least long enough for plans to be made in case of rebellion. Cyneric had no say in the matter, this was all thrusted upon him, though he was more than fine with having a Scottish wife. He just hoped she looked good. He had heard nasty rumors of Scottish women being as ugly as Irish men, and hygiene was none existent. They ate with the horses, and sat on the floor like animals. As time went on, Cyneric worried about the state of his concubine, whether the maids could clean her up proper, or that she would arrive as a hairy beast. Standing in the isles of the chapel, Cyneric was dressed in his best clothing. It was just a few royal guards, a couple members of the family, and most of the windows were closed, with two giving sunlight. Candles burned brightly around the alter, and when Cyneric laid his eyes on Innis, was profoundly impressed.

She was stunningly beautiful for certainly. Either the rumors of Scottish peasants were wrong, or the maids had cleaned her up something fancy. Though, even as he looked her over, sending a calming smile her way, he was quick to nitpick how covered her face was in freckles. That was a mild annoyance. It was like looking at Astrological signs in the night, only if the night was day, and the stars were black as night.

 

[Madam Mim]

He tried to give her a comforting smile, but Innis wouldn't be comforted. She refused. Although she returned his smile with a brief grimace of her own, she couldn't keep a surly scowl while the priest performed the ceremony. She stood, sat, and knelt when she had to; she took communion; she said "I do" and exchanged rings; but she wasn't going to budge from doing any more than she absolutely had to in order to avoid execution. She might have been ignorant to the ways of the court, but at least she understood that her life was what she got in exchange for marrying the wee English numpty. She'd heard he was a numpty, anyway, but it wasn't like she actually knew. Maybe it wasn't fair of her to make assumptions. His father, after all, had made assumptions about her and she hadn't liked it. Do unto others and all that.

As the ceremony dragged on, Innis slowly talked herself into giving the wee Englishman a chance. At least he was good-looking, after all. He didn't measure up to some of the men back home, and certainly not to her childhood sweetheart Lachlan, but he certainly wasn't ugly by any measure. He wasn't ancient like she had feared, either. Nor did he smell like shite the way most Englishmen she'd met did. But then she started actually looking at him, watching his facial expression. He was a master at keeping his lips pulled into a vacant smile but she saw his eyes. They darted in little miniscule movements across her face, lingering occasionally and creasing the corners of his eyes when they did. Was he...was he actually criticizing her freckles? She watched him and the way his corners of his mouth turned down just a hair while his eyes lingered where she knew her freckles were a little darker. He was! He was criticizing her freckles!

Prick.

Reigning in her temper, she decided to stop paying attention to her new husband and instead actually listen to the ceremony. It would help, after all, to know his name. She couldn't very well call him the Wee Prince or the Wee King for the rest of their lives. She had missed the vows, though, so it wasn't until the end of the two hours of prayer and ceremony that the priest said his name again. Cyneric. Well...at least he wasn't French. At long last the ceremony was over and she took Cyneric's arm as he led her back down the aisle. Now came the part she had been dreading.

"Listen, uh...I know any woman would say as she's a virgin on her wedding day," she muttered out of the corner of her mouth, "but for me it actually happens to be true. I um, I'm well sick about it, t'be honest." She glanced up at him as they led the procession down the corridor to the royal bedroom. "Go easy on me, hey?"

 

[Wade Von Doom]

The whole ceremony was awkward as hell. It was by the numbers, 'need to get this done,' no fun to be had at all, souless and even soul-sucking, nobles just staring at Innis with judging gazes, type of a wedding. Nothing was romantic about this, if factories were around in this time, it would feel like Innis was on a conveyor belt. A product of politics and much needed genepool diversity. As soon as the ceremony was over, the place just emptied out, like ghosts vanishing in the blink of an eye, and while Cyneric was giving her a small smile, even he felt uncomfortable with the amount of forced romance. He didn't even look forward to the consummation...... Okay, bit of a lie, he was more thankful that this was at the finishing line to the awkwardness. He could get off and undo the stress with a beautiful, though very freckled faced, woman who was now his wife.... Which was now starting to hit him that more problems might arise. At least with his last fiance, she seemed somewhat fun. He didn't know Innis, and he sure as hell hoped she wouldn't be too much a bother.

As they approached their room, his attention was finally caught by Innis, who spoke up about her virginity to Cyneric. He wasn't a man who cared for if a woman was of virgin or not, it made little difference to him. Just as long as you were good in bed. Though facially, he was taken aback for some odd reason in realizing she was still a virgin. "Oh?" He said, jut as they approached the front door. With a small smile, he placed his thumb on her cheek, rubbing it sensually, like a father looking down at his child. "I wouldn't worry too much. Once we settle in together, and learn the routines we need to, such moments like these will be your highlights of the day. Besides, I can be quite generous." He said that like it was impressive. 'I let you come too!' He let her go in first, seeing how big the room was. The bed was kingsized, the windows were large, luxury furniture all around, and strangely there was a golden tube within the corner of the massive room. Probably put there for a reason.

It was certainly a nice change from the room she slept in before. "Now, I'll be sure to give the housecarls some orders for new clothing just for you in the morning. That way you won't be stuck with the dreary fashion my father believes will fit your place in the family. As well, I'll be sure to give you your own guard detail, and if everything works out, a brand new horse to ride on. We have a lovely selection for you to choose from." The family always hired the best breeders for quality horses. As he spoke, he discarded some of the clothing aside on the chairs, leaving only a shirt and pants on. When he finished speaking, he drew close to Innis. "I'll make sure your new life here fits you better than your old life did." He promised, smiling to her. He meant well, he just didn't realize some of what he said was offending her. With his arms wrapped around her waist, Cyneric finally closed the distance between them a gave Innis a kiss on the lips.

 

[Madam Mim]

"I'm not skeered," Innis insisted, jerking her head back when Cyneric brushed his thumb against her cheek. Creepy fella, this one. "I just don't want ye ta hurt me. I've heard it hurts the first time." These times would be the highlight of her day, indeed. As if she'd never had an orgasm before!

Her irritation was put on hold, however, when she stepped into the room. Innis's entire family could have lived quite comfortably in this single room, and maybe even brought the pigs inside for the winter. The cavernous bedroom had an enormous canopied four-poster at one end and a settee at the other. A vanity with a stool was set against one wall, alongside a wardrobe larger than one she ever thought she would need. One section of the wall opposite the door was nothing but widows. A room like this, she'd never have to leave except to make food! Innis had thought that her room the previous night was large, but this was absolutely cavernous. This was a house secreted away within the castle.

Cyneric's voice brought her back to herself and she remembered to be irritated. She tried not to look quite so amazed at the idea of having even more clothes made for her. Her entire life, Innis had only ever had one dress at a time, usually hand-me-downs from her mother. As a child she'd worn the same one until her body had grown so much it strained the seams. Now that she had stopped growing, the dirty dress with its tattered hem that she had arrived in had been her only clothes for several years. She had figured on a new dress befitting a princess, and maybe a wedding dress... But did she really need anything more than that?

"Horses?" Innis barely noticed her new husband disrobing and made no move to unclothe herself. "What sort of horses?" Her family had a draft horse named Hubert who was a gentle, patient creature and easily her favorite animal on the farm.

"I'll make sure your new life here fits you better than your old life did," Cyneric promised with a smile as he stepped closer. She tried to step away, but he already had his arms around her waist. There was no where to run to, anyway. He pressed a kiss to her lips, but she barely returned it.

"My life fit me just fine, thank ye very much," she said once he'd pulled away. "I'm the wee sacrificial lamb, lamb."

Still, sacrificial lamb or not he was her husband now. Fortunately, despite being a virgin her life had been such that she wasn't totally devoid of skill. With a sigh she opened his smallclothes and slid her hand in to grip his shaft. The closer he was when he finally decided to consummate, the quicker it would be. She just had to think of Lachlan, that was all. Think of Lachlan and it wouldn't be quite so terrible. Pretend it was her wedding night with Lachlan--everyone had been expecting him to come to her father any day, when the council had made their decision--and it might even be a little enjoyable if her husband wasn't as insufferable as he first seemed. There were certainly differences between him and her childhood sweetheart that she noticed as she slid her hand up his shaft and over his head. But perhaps she could ignore those. Lachlan had been saving up, bartering with other clans, and planning on bringing her father a great shaggy cow. Innis wondered idly what the king had given her father that could have possibly been better than a cow.

"Y'like it like this?" she asked softly, aware that her new in-laws and half the court was on the other side of the door. She flicked her thumb over his head. "Big lad, aren't ye?" It wasn't the most enthusiastic dirty talk she'd ever done, but maybe it would make him at least a wee bit more concerned about her pleasure when the time came.