Gregor awoke after the sun had risen, which was unusual for him. He had always been an early riser, never one to need excessive amounts of sleep. He lay still for a moment, realizing his new bride was there, breat hing softly a gainst his c h es t, curled under his arm. She had come back to him, to sleep in his bed. This was something that had never happened before, that one of his wives would come to him of her own accord. He remembered little of his first two wives, however he had some memory of his wedding nights. Elinor was the first wife, he thought, or was it Aly s ? He often confused them. Whatever her name had been, she’d shaken so hard her teeth had chattered. Her crying was high pitched, and it had made his head had hurt something awful. He’d hit her until she quieted, flipped her onto her stomach, spit on her dry cunt and fucked her pitilessly. Afterward he’d tossed her still form over his shoulder and tossed her into her own bed. He’d thought she might be dead, but it...
The next several days were a whirlwind of activity, yet passed excruciatingly slowly for Melicent . Wedding preparations were fully underway. Melicent thanked the Old Gods and the New that her mother was feeling well enough to take things in hand, with the help of Septa Rohanne, Maester Alaric and Ronal the Steward. Her little sister Jeyne & her cousins Sarra & Emma were a great help, being involved in planning the wedding was something they thoroughly enjoyed. Even Nella grudgingly pitched in to help. Melicent had always thought that planning her wedding would be a thrilling experience, but now she found she couldn't concentrate on the task. She just wanted the day to arrive. Each day, they all gathered in the sitting room to sew. The wedding gown needed to be cut, sewn and embellished. Gowns for the younger girls and Lady Sylva needed to be selected and altered. Menus needed planning, guest lists needed to be prepared, armour needed to be polished until it shone. ...
by M.J. Snow Sometimes she's numb, and its good. She laughs sometimes, and that's good too. She's almost forgotten what it felt like. Sometimes she cries, but sometimes she can't. Then she goes and hides, curled up in bed and dreams the dream again, and remembers ... She lay under him, on her stomach and watched the blood drip onto the clean white sheets. Otis Redding was singing in the background, 'These Arms of Mine". One of his hands tangled in her hair, pulling her head back, bending her backwards, the other twisting her right arm behind her back. He would talk sometimes. She could hear his voice, deep and angry, but she didn't know what he said. Pain in her arm, her stomach, her ribs, everywhere. The pain drowned out his words and she crawled into it, hiding from him. You can't make me hear you. That was the only power she had and she embraced it.