Olethros

forty three - freyja

Grateful for his lack of attention, I slipped out of his bedroom and into the corridor. I wondered if it was another bedroom between his and the bathing chamber. Maybe I could hide away there when he didn't need me.

I opened the second door on the left and walked in, quickly shutting and locking it behind me. I thought that now that I was alone, my mask slipped away. My knees failed me as I slid down the door. I stared at the small bathing chamber, the small basin and chamber pot. Like the cabin, there were pitchers of steaming water beside the basin as if magic seemed to serve in the home.

I brought the thin material of the nightgown to my lips, using it to smother the cry building in my chest. My entire body shook as I stared. I couldn't believe this was my life now. I'd known it was to come, but so soon? Though, as Aled had said at supper, most females were married off at the cusp of their maturity for the heightened fertility. I'd been lucky to make it this long.

My fist clenching the fabric dropped to my chest as I laid my head back. The pain I felt was unsurmountable. My chest ached like never before, spreading through my veins like thorns on a vine. I wanted Azriel. I wanted his touch and comfort, his whispers of sweet words. I couldn't even think of how bad his shadows must scream to him now.

I let myself fall apart against the door. It would be my only reprieve because I knew what was expected of me when I walked back into that room. An obedient wife-to-be, seductive and fertile. Fucking ridiculous. Wiping my eyes, I stood and forced my mask back on. Empty, moldable, a shell of a female. That's all that was needed, a warm body. I could be that.

When I finished taking care of my needs and bathing, I pulled the nightgown over my body. I hated it. It was nothing against my mother's handiwork, but entirely against the fact that it proved to me what I was here for. It proved why I was in Tamlin's bed tonight. The hem of the gown barely reached the curve of my rear, its sheer fabric exposing every dip and curve. I stared at the dark pink skin at my chest, hardly covered by a draping of white. My wet hair hung over my shoulders, my face nothing like a seductive bride.

I was a creature carved of trauma and despair. My face held no beauty. Despite my lack of emotion, anyone could see what I'd been through. The shadows beneath my eyes were my favorite. They reminded me of him. My finger shook as I grazed it over the darkened skin, the proof of my sorrow; reddened and swollen from my tears. My lips were chapped, my cheeks hollowed, my eyes void of light. The urge to laugh bubbled in my chest. I looked like my mother.

I turned away from the mirror and gathered my gown from the floor. I inhaled deeply, reaching for the door handle and unlocking it. I knew, from when that healer sewed me, that tonight would be painful. I'd be torn yet again, though I doubted Tamlin would make it pleasureful like Azriel had. There was no connection there- just duty.

I couldn't stop the shaky exhale as I opened the door and my bare feet met the intricate runner down the corridor. I glanced behind myself, to the now dark end of the corridor. I wanted to run, to get out those doors and fly. I'd have to pass Emyr and Dafid, though, and something told me they were at their doors waiting for me.

Swallowing, I opened Tamlin's door. He was sat on his bed, now in lounge pants and no shirt. It was startling to see him comfortable like this, especially after how tense he had been at supper. My throat felt tight as I pulled my eyes away and padded to my trunk, laying my gown over it. I turned to see him closing his book, eyes trailing the sleeping gown.

Disgust rolled through me at the realization that this was it. I'd climb into that bed, I'd be at his mercy. My legs shook as I walked to the far side of the bed, his eyes on me the entire way. I felt like my limbs would give out as I climbed onto the bed. I just needed to get it over with rather than lay beside him and think about what would happen. I didn't meet his eyes as I continued to crawl. I watched his abdomen tighten, my bare leg going over his hips.

"Freyja...?" Tamlin muttered softly, confusion muddled his tone. I didn't meet his eyes, I didn't open my mouth in fear I'd cry again. Shakily, I laid my palms on his bare stomach, his skin too warm against mine. His muscles tensed, a sharp gasp leaving him.

I felt the tears pricking my eyes already. Gods, I couldn't even last a few moments touching him without falling into despair. I leaned forward, squeezing my eyes shut as I pressed my lips to his. Neither of us moved for a moment; I felt as if my mind would implode. Perhaps the painful distraction would be nice. I began to move then, sharp inhales at each roll of my hips. It was not of pleasure, but discomfort with the freshly healed skin.

Our mouths moved, though Tamlin's hands did not touch my body like I expected. I cringed at the taste of my tears as we kissed, knowing he tasted them, too. My hands slid down his hard stomach to the waist of his lounge pants. I hesitated with my hand over his length, nausea hitting me. I didn't want to do it, I didn't want to-

I let my hand drop, forming around his length. He wasn't hard, not entirely. I stroked him through his pants, feeling him twitch.

"Freyja," he sighed against my lips, and I thought it could be a sigh of relief or pleasure, but then he took my wrist into his hand. I jolted from surprise, pulling back. His reddened lips glimmered in the dim firelight as he lifted my hand from him.

"I- I thought-," I gasped out, cutting myself off at the broken sound of my voice. I felt my chin tremble as I met his eyes. He stared at me with a look I never expected. Tamlin looked at me with concern- and pity.

"It's your first night, yeah? Let's go slow," he whispered. I nodded, tugging against his hold to wipe my face. Tamlin ran a thumb over my wrist, bringing his other hand up and wiping my tears. Mother, I hated the way I leaned into his touch. It wasn't his touch I wanted. I didn't feel comforted, but my soul yearned for any scrap.

Another wave of nausea ran through me at the thought of Azriel. A sob broke through. I pulled myself from Tamlin's touch, bringing my leg back over him and dropping to the bed. It was hardly big enough to avoid his touch. I curled in on myself, squeezing my eyes shut.

As Tamlin pulled the blanket over me and laid himself at my back, a hand on my waist and breath on my shoulder, I grieved. Oh, Cauldron, how I grieved. The cries that left me were embarrassing, loud and hiccuping, but I didn't care. I hardly felt this male against my back. I thought of a love I hardly had a grasp on and it slipped from me so suddenly. I grieved for Azriel, for who I could've been, for what we could've been. I grieved for myself and the female I surely lost each day I was here.