Post by Leona Redwyne on May 13, 2015 14:34:36 GMT -5
Lara had just poured Ragnar a tankard of ale when Evelynn put down the shirt she had been mending then came to stand before him, curtseying. She had a nervous expression on her face, though that was nothing new. Of the three salt wives currently aboard Serpent’s Breath, Evelynn was the most nervous by far. He could tell from her expression that she wanted to speak, but was afraid he wouldn’t like whatever she wanted to say.
“Speak,” he commanded.
“Yes, Lord Ragnar. I’m…I’m…I think I’m with child. My moonblood hasn’t come for three months.”
There was real misery in Evelynn’s voice but Ragnar laughed and saluted her with his tankard. “There’s a good wench! Don’t look so worried, you did your duty like a good salt wife.”
Evelynn looked more startled than ever and stammered out something that sounded like “Yes, lord.” He regarded her with amusement. She was pretty, in a mousy sort of way, and very quiet. She didn’t like being a salt wife, but she’d quickly resigned herself to her fate and knew better than to disobey or argue with him. Chances were she wouldn’t hold his interest for more than a year or two, but she’d have a decent life as mother to one or more of his children.
“Go back to your sewing,” he told her. “Make sure you eat well, I want no scrawny brat coming out of you. If you need anything for the baby, the thralls will sort it out.”
She murmured thanks scurried back to her sewing at once. Lara sank down onto Ragnar’s lap and wrapped her arms around him. “Make love to me, Lord Ragnar. I want your baby too.”
He laughed and, ignoring her, reached for his tankard. As he drank, Lara’s hand strayed down to his breeches and began to unlace them. Ragnar grinned and gently moved her hand aside. “Not now, sweetling. I’ve got more important things to do. Tonight, perhaps.”
Lara looked up at him, pouting. “But I want a baby too. Haven’t I earned one? I’m much better at sex than Evelynn.”
He couldn’t deny the truth of that. Evelynn simply lay quietly beneath him when he demanded it of her, but Lara was enthusiastic every time he took her to bed, and surprisingly inventive for a girl who had been a maiden before he claimed her. “So you are, but I’m a lord and a captain. I have duties. Go back to your sewing. I want that new outfit finished by the morning or all three of you will feel the back of my hand.” He pushed her off his lap and took out a map.
“Sex is much more fun than sewing,” Lara declared, but she went back to the far side of the room, where her sister Trianna sat sewing with Evelynn.
Ragnar studied his map, using a pen to make amendments to reflect the lands his people had recently conquered, and adding such notes as he saw fit. He grinned as Lara grumbled about how unfair it was that Evelynn got to be pregnant first.
“Oh do be quiet, Lara!” Trianna said, in a low voice that Ragnar heard nevertheless. “You dishonour yourself by fawning over Lord Ragnar like a common whore.”
“Oh, rubbish!” Lara cried. “Lord Ragnar is good to us. We have nice clothes and all the food and wine we like and none of his men dare touch us. And the sex is fun too! You just need to have fun, silly. Our old life is gone.”
Smack! Trianna’s hand connected with Lara’s cheek. Ragnar listened to Lara’s cry of pain as he continued to mark out details on his map. Trianna’s voice was sharp.
“You are a stupid little girl, Lara. Don’t think for one moment that he actually cares for you. We are his playthings. He likes you for now, but he’ll probably get bored of you when he finds another girl. You’re bound to him for life now, we all are. You’ll hate this as much as I do in a few weeks. Gods help us, how can you want to have his bastard?”
Ragnar looked up from his map. “The sons and daughters of salt wives are not bastards, wench. They are honoured members of the family. Lady Freya is the daughter of my father’s salt wife, and she has a ship and a castle of her own.”
Trianna looked down her nose at him, all snooty defiance. She was a cold fish in bed but her occasional bouts of defiance amused and aroused him.
“Lady Freya is an unnatural creature. I should be ashamed to have such a sister.”
He strode forward and grabbed Trianne’s braid, dyed deep violet, and tugged it until she shrieked. “You’ll speak of my sister with respect.”
Trianna squealed as he dragged her over to the desk and pushed her face down, then lifted her skirts.
Afterwards, Trianna wept in pain and humiliation. Annoyed by her tears, Ragnar sent her away with Evelynn and settled back down with his maps and his books. Lara skipped over to him and leaned over his shoulder, her emerald braid swinging down to her buttocks. “What are you reading?”
“I’m thinking about warfare,” he said. “My forebears have a proud tradition of pillage and conquest. I’m studying their deeds.”
“But why? The past is dead now. We live in the present.”
“Aye, but we can learn much from our past. A good general learns from those who came before him. Did you ever hear of the Red Kraken, Lara?”
“No, what’s that? A sea monster?”
God preserve me, she’s an ignorant little wench. “No, the Red Kraken was a Greyjoy, an ancestor to our king. See the charcoal lines I’ve drawn, here and here.” He pointed. “The Red Kraken’s voyages. He fought in the Stepstones, the coast of Westerlands and the Sunset Sea. It’s said he was fearless in battle, but he failed to prepare for the future. When the Red Kraken died, his sons fought for supremacy.”
“How horrid. I don’t like war,” Lara confided.
“I do,” he said, with a wolfish grin. “There’s iron and salt in my blood, Lara. Get used to it. Do you know the tale of Harren the Black? A case of extreme hubris, for certain.”
“Never heard of him,” she said.
So he told her about Harren the Black, using the map to outline the lands held by Harren and his followers, and grinned when Lara’s eyes grew wide with awe. The destruction of Harrenhal made her squeal but Ragnar said only “Harren forgot that our greatest strength was at sea. He was a fool to focus on building a kingdom so far inland.”
Afterwards, he told her the tale of Urron Redhand and Lara shivered at the bloody deeds committed by the Ironborn. Ragnar grinned his wolfish grin. “You must learn to embrace our history, sweetling. These are your people now. Your sons will grow up to be fearsome reavers. Now, how about getting to work on your first son? He won’t make himself.”
He stripped her naked and took her on the floor. Lara quickly found her enthusiasm and by the end of it both of them were sweaty. As the girl fell asleep, Ragnar went back to his maps, humming a bawdy song one of his men had taught him. He began to mark out the voyages of various other Ironborn heroes on his map. As he'd told Lara, it was important to know what his predecessors had done.
Going for increases in:
Naval Command
Intimidation
“Speak,” he commanded.
“Yes, Lord Ragnar. I’m…I’m…I think I’m with child. My moonblood hasn’t come for three months.”
There was real misery in Evelynn’s voice but Ragnar laughed and saluted her with his tankard. “There’s a good wench! Don’t look so worried, you did your duty like a good salt wife.”
Evelynn looked more startled than ever and stammered out something that sounded like “Yes, lord.” He regarded her with amusement. She was pretty, in a mousy sort of way, and very quiet. She didn’t like being a salt wife, but she’d quickly resigned herself to her fate and knew better than to disobey or argue with him. Chances were she wouldn’t hold his interest for more than a year or two, but she’d have a decent life as mother to one or more of his children.
“Go back to your sewing,” he told her. “Make sure you eat well, I want no scrawny brat coming out of you. If you need anything for the baby, the thralls will sort it out.”
She murmured thanks scurried back to her sewing at once. Lara sank down onto Ragnar’s lap and wrapped her arms around him. “Make love to me, Lord Ragnar. I want your baby too.”
He laughed and, ignoring her, reached for his tankard. As he drank, Lara’s hand strayed down to his breeches and began to unlace them. Ragnar grinned and gently moved her hand aside. “Not now, sweetling. I’ve got more important things to do. Tonight, perhaps.”
Lara looked up at him, pouting. “But I want a baby too. Haven’t I earned one? I’m much better at sex than Evelynn.”
He couldn’t deny the truth of that. Evelynn simply lay quietly beneath him when he demanded it of her, but Lara was enthusiastic every time he took her to bed, and surprisingly inventive for a girl who had been a maiden before he claimed her. “So you are, but I’m a lord and a captain. I have duties. Go back to your sewing. I want that new outfit finished by the morning or all three of you will feel the back of my hand.” He pushed her off his lap and took out a map.
“Sex is much more fun than sewing,” Lara declared, but she went back to the far side of the room, where her sister Trianna sat sewing with Evelynn.
Ragnar studied his map, using a pen to make amendments to reflect the lands his people had recently conquered, and adding such notes as he saw fit. He grinned as Lara grumbled about how unfair it was that Evelynn got to be pregnant first.
“Oh do be quiet, Lara!” Trianna said, in a low voice that Ragnar heard nevertheless. “You dishonour yourself by fawning over Lord Ragnar like a common whore.”
“Oh, rubbish!” Lara cried. “Lord Ragnar is good to us. We have nice clothes and all the food and wine we like and none of his men dare touch us. And the sex is fun too! You just need to have fun, silly. Our old life is gone.”
Smack! Trianna’s hand connected with Lara’s cheek. Ragnar listened to Lara’s cry of pain as he continued to mark out details on his map. Trianna’s voice was sharp.
“You are a stupid little girl, Lara. Don’t think for one moment that he actually cares for you. We are his playthings. He likes you for now, but he’ll probably get bored of you when he finds another girl. You’re bound to him for life now, we all are. You’ll hate this as much as I do in a few weeks. Gods help us, how can you want to have his bastard?”
Ragnar looked up from his map. “The sons and daughters of salt wives are not bastards, wench. They are honoured members of the family. Lady Freya is the daughter of my father’s salt wife, and she has a ship and a castle of her own.”
Trianna looked down her nose at him, all snooty defiance. She was a cold fish in bed but her occasional bouts of defiance amused and aroused him.
“Lady Freya is an unnatural creature. I should be ashamed to have such a sister.”
He strode forward and grabbed Trianne’s braid, dyed deep violet, and tugged it until she shrieked. “You’ll speak of my sister with respect.”
Trianna squealed as he dragged her over to the desk and pushed her face down, then lifted her skirts.
Afterwards, Trianna wept in pain and humiliation. Annoyed by her tears, Ragnar sent her away with Evelynn and settled back down with his maps and his books. Lara skipped over to him and leaned over his shoulder, her emerald braid swinging down to her buttocks. “What are you reading?”
“I’m thinking about warfare,” he said. “My forebears have a proud tradition of pillage and conquest. I’m studying their deeds.”
“But why? The past is dead now. We live in the present.”
“Aye, but we can learn much from our past. A good general learns from those who came before him. Did you ever hear of the Red Kraken, Lara?”
“No, what’s that? A sea monster?”
God preserve me, she’s an ignorant little wench. “No, the Red Kraken was a Greyjoy, an ancestor to our king. See the charcoal lines I’ve drawn, here and here.” He pointed. “The Red Kraken’s voyages. He fought in the Stepstones, the coast of Westerlands and the Sunset Sea. It’s said he was fearless in battle, but he failed to prepare for the future. When the Red Kraken died, his sons fought for supremacy.”
“How horrid. I don’t like war,” Lara confided.
“I do,” he said, with a wolfish grin. “There’s iron and salt in my blood, Lara. Get used to it. Do you know the tale of Harren the Black? A case of extreme hubris, for certain.”
“Never heard of him,” she said.
So he told her about Harren the Black, using the map to outline the lands held by Harren and his followers, and grinned when Lara’s eyes grew wide with awe. The destruction of Harrenhal made her squeal but Ragnar said only “Harren forgot that our greatest strength was at sea. He was a fool to focus on building a kingdom so far inland.”
Afterwards, he told her the tale of Urron Redhand and Lara shivered at the bloody deeds committed by the Ironborn. Ragnar grinned his wolfish grin. “You must learn to embrace our history, sweetling. These are your people now. Your sons will grow up to be fearsome reavers. Now, how about getting to work on your first son? He won’t make himself.”
He stripped her naked and took her on the floor. Lara quickly found her enthusiasm and by the end of it both of them were sweaty. As the girl fell asleep, Ragnar went back to his maps, humming a bawdy song one of his men had taught him. He began to mark out the voyages of various other Ironborn heroes on his map. As he'd told Lara, it was important to know what his predecessors had done.
Going for increases in:
Naval Command
Intimidation