Chapter 3: Eglantine
The septa had been warning her most of her life that her life would change after her blossoming. She would be marriagable, the septa had said, and everything she had been taught would have to be heeded. Eglantine was unsure what etiquettes would and would not be prudent in every single situation, however, and that frightened her all the more when she was told she was to be married. She was competant in most things, but she did not think of herself as "book smart," and she couldn't understand what value she would have in this arrangement. Surely there were other girls in the Stormlands – let alone in the seven kingdoms – who were better qualified than she was.
When she arrived at Herston Hall, she found it to be just as lovely as her home, if not more so. The shore along the Sea of Dorne seemed to be much sweeter than Massey's Hook, where the storms from the east battered against the land, as if upset they still could not destroy Storm's End (at least, if the legends were to be believed). When she was first introduced to Lorys, she initially found herself blushing, for he came at her from the practice in the yard, wearing his armor. She could tell he was broad of shoulders, and probably well muscled. All of that changed when he took off his helm, and she saw, on his face, terrible, cracked, gray skin, going from his cheeks to his neck – the dreaded remains of an affliction of grayscale. She let out a gasp, but quickly remembered her courtesies, bowing and introducing herself according to the customs her septa had taught her. After that, and before the wedding, she rarely saw him except for a few occasions.
In the meantime, she was placed into the care of the maester: some bald man named Dermot, with a large, full, bushy beard. He initially seemed like a very nice man, and permitted her to relax in her studies with a stool rather than a desk. However, over time she began to feel uneasy with him, as he always seemed to look at her strangely. She wasn't sure what it was, but it always made her uncomfortable. He even seemed to be glancing away whenever she looked up at him, as if he were afraid of her, or something she might say. Soon she began to fear his company, and was happy when the wedding day came, which meant her lessons would come to a stop.
The wedding was a lovely event, with entertainers and musicians and dance and joy. Eglantine found herself laughing and clapping and feeling almost like a little child again. She had completely forgotten about the bedding tradition before it was announced. Here, things went terribly for her. She found men – most of whom were repulsive – grabbing at her, carrying her, and tearing at her clothes. She felt one hand grab at her dress and tear at it, and he very nearly revealed her breast before she covered it with a shred of her chemise. Another hand from some unknown guest grabbed at her bottom, causing her to let out a squeal, for she had never been touched there – let alone had she been touched by
any man before this night. By the time they had tossed her into her room, she was near naked, shivering, and feeling the least attractive she had felt in a while. The event had only caused her to feel like some common wench rather than a lady of nobility: these men had pawed at her and torn her clothes off as if her dignity meant nothing. Yes, she had heard of the bedding practices before, it was another thing entirely to experience it firsthand.
Her first night was even worse. Her new husband showed no mercy to her, but planted her on the bed and took her from behind, robbing her of her maidenhead even when she screamed and told him it hurt. It was the worst pain she had ever felt in her life, and she could do little than clutch the pillow and cry into it. He continued to go, despite her cries, until he had finally finished inside her. After that, he was asleep in minutes. If Eglantine had felt terrible before, she felt
wretched now: her loins ached, and she could feel the warmth of the blood trickle down her thighs; her husband, who was supposed to love and protect her, was snoring beside her, already asleep as if he had no further use for her. She lay far away from him on her side of the bed, curled up into a fetal position, and cried herself to sleep. As she drifted off, all she could think in her mind was whether or not the noble lords and knights of song and legends had made love to their maidens in this same manner – how many of those princesses had gone to bed crying just like she was?
The next day, she became distressed even more when she heard that a fight had broken out between the king and her father. There were various stories whispered by the servants in the hall: some say that her father had pulled out a sword and threatened to usurp the kingdom himself; some said that the king was preparing to go to her room and reinstate "first night," and her father had fought him to protect her (she liked that one); others said that both men had simply been drinking too much, and insults had flown. Even if one of these were true, or some truth was found in all of them, it did not bode well. She knew the Baratheon king was infamous for his temper and his militant attitude towards insubordination, and it sounded like her father, for whatever reason, had committed such.
For his own part, the king was seeking to leave that very next day. Gazing out a window in a stairway, Eglantine eavesdropped and listened as her new husband spoke with Robert. She heard Lorys say that Maric had already left with most of his family, and the king had his apologies. Ser Jarman, her brother, was still there, but Lorys reminded Robert that he was protected as a guest, and besides, Jarmen had attempted to stop his father, and had personally apologized to the king for his actions. The king, for his part, seemed to be suffering from the excessive drinking he had made the night before, and did not even seem to remember half the details. He made some vague threat that, when he returned to King's Landing, he would see that this was resolved.
A sickness came over Eglantine's belly, and she suddenly realized that she desperately needed someone to speak to about this. Her main concern was for her father's safety, and she wanted some reassurance that he would be safe. Her brother would know, surely? She had to find him, and find him fast. She needed this assurance – she needed something to tend to her nerves. She quickly asked some of the hall's servants for his whereabouts, and discovered he was in the dining hall. He was there, alone, and drinking from a wineskin, his eyes almost as red as his face.
"Jarman?" Eglantine asked in a low voice, taking a few uncertain steps towards her brother.
Jarman glanced over, giving a half smile as a chuckle escaped his lips, "If it isn't the new bride...hello sister..." He lifted the wineskin to his lips, letting some of it drip down the sides of his face, into his beard, before gulping what he had and wiping his mouth.
Eglantine found herself fidgeting with her hands, taking slow, methodical steps towards him. That feeling in her belly was getting worse and worse. "Is...i-is father going to be alright?"
"Oh, he will be
fine," Jarman replied, leaning forward and rubbing his face, "embarrassing a man with seven kingdoms at his command...oh yes, he'll be
just fine...pray the Stag doesn't hire a Bolton to come south and flay him."
Eglantine bit her lip, and she had to push back tears. A pain had shot through her like a knife in the chest. It took a several seconds before she could feel herself keep from crying, and wipe away what little tears had died attempting to come out. "W-what happened?"
"You don't know?" Jarman said, raising an eyebrow and looking at her incredulously. "You are now the high lady of this mighty hall, and you don't know?"
Eglantine shook her head. Even from the distance, she could smell the wine from Jarman's breath. She didn't like this one bit.
"It was because of you, dear sister – blood of my blood, as they used to say. Because the king started talking about all the nice things he'd do to this little lady, and our intelligent father decided to tell him to 'shut his gob.'"
A mixture of emotions fell over Eglantine. The thought of Robert
even thinking about doing those things frightened her, and filled her with revulsion. She had heard some women say that he had once been an attractive, appealing man, but now...but besides that, she felt some joy and love that her father had defended her honor, even if it meant the expense of his life.
"And one thing led to another, and our father wasted perfectly good wine as well as relationships with the throne," Jarman continued, laughing softly. "Stupid, stupid, father. All this...for his worst child."
Eglantine blinked, "W-what?"
"Do I need to spell it out for you?" Jarman asked, turning and sticking out his neck to peer right at Eglantine. The gaze in his eye frightened her immediately, causing her to back away – this was no longer the brother she had grown up with. There was something in his expression: the wine had brought out something lurking deep within his heart. "Do I really need to clarify it for you? You are
the expendable one. You are neither intelligent nor useful, and your looks are plain at best. Father and mother needed an alliance, Lord Lorys needed a wife, and you made both parties happy. Otherwise, you're
nothing. You're not worth defending. You're definitely not worth possibly losing our holdings over. You are worth nothing more than a pledge for peace in exchange for you granting a man a few romps in the bed. Father is most likely going to die, and it will all be because of you...and it will be a total
waste..."
Each word had been like a new stabbing into Eglantine's belly. She felt like she was about to throw up. When it appeared like Jarman was about to speak again, she turned and fled. He shouted something, but she covered her ears and tried to blot out the words. She ran through the halls, past servants, past courtiers, past council members, without saying a word or making eye contact. Her dress was flowing behind her madly like a flag, and her hair flowing behind her like tassels in the wind. She fled the hall, towards the local septum, and fell onto the floor once she had entered. On her belly, with her legs bent and off to the side, and her face in her arms, she began to weep. Never before, in all her life, had she felt so alone, and so unloved, and so worthless. Worst yet, there was asbolutely no one she knew to comfort her. She could only rely on the gods, and pray that they would be merciful to her.
The only mercy she found was that her husband seemed to not be interested in her the nights following the wedding. She had taken notice that he seemed more interested in many of the serving girls about the hall, and seemed to be spending much time with the strange, creepy maester up in his tower. They ate together and continued to share a bed together, but only sparingly did he ever make love to her, and usually when he wanted to do so. It was always from behind, but thankfully it did not hurt as much as it did before, and she had attempted to find ways to enjoy it...though she rarely could. Her only true consolation was that, when she was taken from behind, she didn't have to see the grayscale scars on his face.
Finally came one day when she was told that she would have to prepare for a journey to the west, towards the regional capitol of Stonehelm. She was given a fine dress by her husband, although the neckline was far too low for her liking. In her mind, she had begun to wonder if she was merely a trophy and object for Lorys to show off to others. Even that strange maester seemed particularly enthused by her dress, and paid attention to her even more than usual. She could do little but tug at her neckline, covering up what she could and attempting to remain as noble and dignified as her septa had taught her.
The event at Stonehelm was the marriage between Ser Donnel Swann and Lady Mina Mullendore. Donnel was the heir of Gulian Swann, the Lord of Red Watch and Lorys' superior. Eglantine was quite surprised that he had not wed yet, as he was nearing three decades of living, while his bride had already crossed that. The marriage ceremony itself was not as elaborate as the one in Herston Hall, but it seemed jovial enough. Eglantine kept to herself, sitting with her hands folded over her lap and attempting to look as regal as she could.
During the feast, Eglantine felt nauseous to herself – perhaps based on something she ate – and she had to be excused for a moment. She went into the hallway, and it was there that she was greeted by the maester of Stonehelm. He was significantly less creepy than her own maester, though at this moment he appeared to look very sad. When his eyes caught sight of her, his movement entered a slow pace, and he clutched a sheet of paper in his hands.
"What is it?" she asked him, feeling her heart begin to beat, unsure of what to expect.
"Lady Eglantine," he began, his mouth opening and closing as if unsure what words to pick, "Lady Eglantine...I regret to inform you that I have just received word that your father was arrested by the king's men..."
Eglantine gasped and covered her mouth. Her heart seemed to be beating so hard that it threatened to break through her rib cage. She stared at the maester with wide eyes, frozen in time. It was as if she was waiting for the maester to reveal that this was all a cruel joke, or he might look at the paper again to realize he had misread something. Nothing of this sort happened – the maester only looked at her with a sadder and sadder expression.
"What was it for? Why would the king do such a thing?" Eglantine finally asked.
"For conspiracies against the throne," the maester replied. "It appears your father plotted to overthrow King Robert."
"No, no..." Eglantine muttered. The maester attempted to pat her on the shoulder, but she simply turned and ran. She didn't know where to go at first – it had simply been a reaction.
Maybe if she ran away from the maester, her mind had thought,
she could run away from the truth, and it would never catch up to her – and then it wouldn't be true any more. Then she realized it was a childish idea, and she was not a child any more.
I am a lady, and the wife of a lord, her common sense told her. She had to act like one. She had to stop worrying and being afraid, and be a woman, just as her mother acted, and all Massey women before her.
All the same, she couldn't stand to see anyone at the moment, and retired to her room. No one sent for her or looked for her, which did hurt, but she had far greater worries. Eventually her husband came in, clearly drunk and in good spirits. She knew what was about to happen. She could feel him get into the bed with her, already naked, and begin to run his hands along her belly. It was then that she remembered that the king and Lorys were friends, and had fought in the rebellion together. Could it be...?
"The king arrested my father," Eglantine said curtly.
"Y'hm?" came Lorys' drunken reply. It sounded like he had intended to say, "Yes?", but had given up halfway.
Eglantine sat up, covering her body from the neck down with the bedsheets, "The king arrested my father."
Lorys rolled his eyes, "Your father threw wine in the king's face." He tried to pull the sheets down from her, but she held her grip and tried another angle:
"If something happens to my father, what will become of the alliance between our houses?"
Lorys chuckled, taking one of her arms and kissing up to her shoulders. She could smell the wine from his breath as he said, "If your brothers still live, our alliance is still good."
That grayscale flesh rubbed against her smooth skin, sending shivers up her spine and nearly making her throw up. She could feel her eyes water as desperation overtook her. The sheets were lowered, revealing herself to him. It was then that an idea came across her mind. As one of the lord's hands went for her breasts, she suddenly swatted at it and cried out:
"No!"
Lorys blinked, "W-what?"
"I said no," Eglantine replied, "not while my father is in prison."
"Oh come off it," growled Lorys, trying to kiss her shoulder and pull her towards him. "I was made cupbearer tonight...let's celebrate..."
Despite his efforts, she easily eluded his drunken grasp and went to the edge of the bed, as if threatening to get up and leave, "No. You'll not even touch me, so far as my father is in danger. I want him freed."
Lorys let out a sigh, as if he was about to pass out from this little bit of fighting. It was then that Eglantine saw a small chink in this knight's armor, and a smile came across her face. Lorys was obviously a fiend and fond of what he could do in bed...but he was no rapist. He was not going to force himself on his wife, but he still needed the pleasure he so earnestly desired.
"Very well," he said at last, groaning in his words, "I will send the ravens out tomorrow...you have my word..." Thinking he had settled the dispute, he reached out for Eglantine's body – and received another slap on the hand.
"I want them sent out now."
"Very well, very well..." He got up and stumbled to the door, opening it a crack and peeking out to call for a servant. Eglantine heard him give a message for Dermot, ordering that ravens fly to King's Landing to ask for mercy on Lord Massey's behalf. It was said in slurred speech, and it took a while for Lorys to gather his thoughts, but that was what was done.
When the door shut and Lorys came back to bed, he begged for Eglantine to relent and live up to her promises. That she did, and with a big smile on her face as she turned around, lifting up her rump and resting her head on her folded arms, which lay on the pillows. As she felt her husband ease his desires, she whispered in a tone too quiet for him to hear:
"I am a lady...I am the wife of a lord..."