Marriage Of The Fae Ch 02

A/N: Chapter 2 is all yours. I apologize profusely for the, uh, half-year delay. Between finishing out my first year of college and mad, mad writer's block, I didn't have the chance to write anything I thought was worthy of sharing. I hope you understand.

Thank you for all the comments, even the ones encouraging Rhys' untimely death! He is a nasty one, isn't he? ;)

Again, this is a work of fiction. I do not condone any form of rape, sexual assault, or otherwise nonconsensual sexual activity. All characters are 18 years of age or older.

Thanks for enduring the wait. Hope you enjoy!

Alex (HibouBleuMD)

Chapter 2

Rhys

Since my childhood I have been quite a heavy sleeper, and I have considered this a weakness since I was old enough to consider anything as such. My nurses would play frivolous little games with me to wake me in the mornings, tickling my face or shaking my bassinet in order to see who would be able to wake me. Even as a toddler these games irked me, but never made me any the wiser regarding waking on command.

I suppose this is why I did not notice the human girl wriggle from my arms sometime in the night, and why I have now woken to her brandishing a candelabrum in my general direction.

I had the presence of mind evening last to lock the door behind us when I entered the chamber with little Noelle in tow, and it seems she has tried and failed to flee the room. I treat myself to a languid stretch, watching her small hands shake around the base of the candlestick. I'm sure it was not her intent to appear comical, but I have to hold back a laugh as I sit up. Her weapon of choice, along with the mussed state of her dark hair and eyes still ever so hazed from sleep, paint quite the vision. If I were so inclined, I could describe to you the way her breasts fill out the torn white tunic wrapped about her small frame.

"Let me out of this room." The girl's voice is sharp, hardly wavering; perhaps to lesser ears she would sound valiant. But I can hear the fearful edge in her tone.

"The door was locked only as a precaution. Put down the candlestick and come over here." I glance over to the nightstand, upon which a gilded sheet of paper sits, marked with my name and the date. Perhaps from Jerome, or Siobhan, neither of whom need a key in order to access the other side of a locked door.

The girl shakes her head. "I'm not coming near you. Let me out, Rhys." Ah, my name again. If she were a servant, I could have her punished for such an indiscretion. As a human, and my wife, she narrowly escapes the possibility.

I give a sigh; this is hardly the battle I want to fight. "Why are you holding that, human?"

"I don't know what you're going to try. I thought it would be better to be prepared."

She's too much. I grin shamelessly. "So you've decided the best course of action to be attempting assassination with a torch?"

She seems genuinely surprised. "Not assassination...just self-defense."

"From your own husband?" I tilt my head in concern.

This stirs a reaction; I watch her bristle. "Sad, isn't it? I shouldn't have to feel the need to defend myself from

my own husband!

" The audacious little thing lifts her chin, thinking she's had the final word.

"No, you shouldn't," I say, "because you should be respecting and obeying your husband, little human." I move toward her quickly; she cringes. "Especially being that your husband outranks you in all conceivable ways." I'm faster than she is, my hand shooting out to capture her chin while she glares darkly. She's a trembling bird who thinks herself to be a bear. "I'm not going to reiterate the necessity dictated by the Elixir," I continue. In a blink's time she will be reminded she is made of quivering feathers, not bristling fur. "I will, however, remind you of the lovely moan you gave me last night, as you climaxed on your very own husband's cock."

She all but blanches. Still grasping the candelabrum, yet shaking harder now, as her face contorts from an expression of horror to a look of rage. "You

forced

me, you bastard! What happened to me last night was a result of goddamn biology, not because I

liked

it!"

It's less than a moment before she is lashing out, swinging the shimmering holder at my face. Letting out a shout of frustration as I grasp her arm and pull her onto the bed. I press into the points on either side of her wrist and she drops the torch; it falls heavily to the floor.

"

Biology

has nothing to do with the effects of the Elixir, human." Even a Fae slave would know not to speak of the Elixir's bond in such simplistic terms. Of course, a human would have no idea.

It's too easy to flip the delicate creature onto her back across the strewn covers, where she lands with a grunt. Noelle immediately begins to struggle, lifting her hands to my face, digging her blunt fingernails into my skin...well, attempting to. Again, she is unable to make much progress.

"You are going to make your fingernails bleed," I tell her.

"It'll be worth it!" she shouts. The girl gives a groan as I sweep both of her wrists into the grasp of one of my hands and hold them against her heaving chest, now laid nearly bare after her struggles opened the tunic. I glance down to see one pearly nipple peeking from behind the white fabric, erect atop a cream-colored breast worth just more than a handful.

I will have to investigate this further.

For now, I restrain her as she throws curses, jerking her hands against my grasp to no avail. There is that pleasant feeling of relief again, as our close bodies slacken the Elixir's pull. Reaching across her body, I pluck the gilded paper from the nightstand.

"What is that?" she demands.

I keep my other hand wrapped lazily about her wrists. "A letter from..." I open the note to see Jerome's spidery signature lining the bottom of the page, "...my advisor." Another name catches my eye beside Jerome's, and I am surprised to see Aodh's title. "As well as the high priest."

The girl stills, obviously curious. Perhaps she thinks they've written to help her out of her predicament. Little does she know they are just as bound by the laws of the Elixir as the next man, and regardless would be loath to stay the wishes of a prince.

I look down at the human beneath me, finding her scowling back. "Will you keep yourself from trying to damage my countenance for the moment it will take me to read this?" I ask.

"If you can keep yourself from assaulting me," she replies.

I smile. "If you recall, little minx, it was you who first attempted to assault me."

The girl snorts but gives no further response, but squirms out from under me when I let go her wrists. She sits up against the headboard, wrapping the tunic back around her body to conceal those soft breasts. I'm distracted again, recalling the feel of her flesh in my hands. She sits sullenly beside me as I read the note to myself.

Prince Rhys,

We respectfully request that you and your bride join us in the palace parliamentary quarters at the twelfth hour. With the goings on of yesterday, the traditional post ceremony proceedings were not performed.

Yours,

Jerome, on behalf of Aodh the High Priest and the Grass Clan Council.

The post ceremony proceedings should be a joyous time. The bride and groom stepping out as equals, as those who have joined together two clans...not the groom nannying a whiny human. How did this become my reality?

It's necessary, however, if I wish to know whether this marriage will harm the standing of my clan. And of course, the Council has yet to meet my new bride.

The girl is watching me, her gaze what I can only describe as intense. "What does it say?" she questions.

I stand and begin to dress. "We are going to the Council, for meetings and documentation necessary after a marriage bond." I cross to the heavy oak door and reverse the locking spell, swinging it open. "Come, human."

She balks. "What?" I ask.

"I have to go to the bathroom."

Another human weakness. This one is unavoidable, I suppose. Fortunately, this particular chamber is equipped with a lavatory for any non-Fae guests who may be so inclined to use it.

I sigh and point across the room. "Go through that door. Be quick about it."

She blushes and gives a curt nod before scrambling off of the bed and making her way to the door. I suppose I ought to call for a new dress or something; the tunic she's wearing is practically translucent. Pleasantly so, as well, I have to admit.

**************

Noelle

I make sure to slam the door as hard as I feel is worth risking once I enter the bathroom. The slamming seems to resonate within the thread, and I wince sharply.

Be quick about it

, he said, like he's trying to exercise just as much control over my bodily functions and private time as he seems to in everything else. He's acting like I'm an animal again, a flighty little dog that he has to hurry along on a walk and pick up after. Fuck him. Fuck this.

Somewhere between being assaulted this morning and now I've begun to accept the possibility that this is not, in fact, a coma dream. No, I was accepting it even before then, I guess. And even if it is a dream, what am I going to do about it? What am I supposed to do with being thrown into a freaky dreamworld where humans are a minority, where fairy princes are angry, spoiled sex offenders and nobody does a thing about it?

No, don't think about that. I'm not going to think about what he did, not right now, I can't afford to. I can fight, that's what I can do.

Apparently I've spent too long thinking, because there's a harsh knock on the door right as I'm making my way to the ornate toilet. He doesn't say anything, just lets that angry knock speak for him. What if I didn't say anything back?

Another knock, that's what. "I'll be out in a minute," I shout. Apparently fairy princes don't understand how long it takes to pee.

I finish up and wash my hands, splashing my face with the cool, strangely sweet water that flows from a polished wooden tap over a wide ivory basin. It would be nice to admire if I weren't short on time. I exit the bathroom to find Rhys leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom. A vaguely metallic glint catches my eye and I look to see a simple gold dress lying across the bed.

"Put it on." Rhys gestures to the dress as if he's bored. "The council won't be amused if you arrive at the proceedings with your business in theirs."

I almost smile, but it's easy to catch myself. Crossing to the bed, I scoop up the dress, finding the material is more robust than it looks. If I didn't know better, I'd think it would flutter apart in my hands in a million gold flecks. I turn to Rhys and push my luck. "Could I have some privacy?"

"Put on the dress, little human. It's not as if I haven't already been treated to all you have to offer." As if I had actually offered it in the first place.

I narrow my eyes and start back toward the bathroom with the dress. "Is this truly the battle you want to fight, Noelle?" Rhys asks. I can feel him following me, the constant tugging on the thread loosening as he grows closer. "You're not going to hide from me."

I hold back a shriek as his hand closes around my wrist and pulls me back from the door. It would feel almost gentle if I didn't know better. "Why are you so set on watching me?" I snap.

I'm up against his chest now, wriggling in his hold, the dress crushed in my arms. "I'm set on you submitting your body to me, as the Elixir dictates," he murmurs. "I am your husband. Why should you hide yourself from me?"

"Too many reasons to list," I grunt, trying to duck out from under his arms. He snorts and keeps his grasp tight. It's probably effortless for him.

"You'll grow used to it. You seemed to enjoy, even, having your body at my mercy last night."

Fucking victim-blaming piece of shit.

"That was disgusting," I say. He simply shakes his head and walks me back toward the middle of the room. I struggle while he peels the tunic off of me, exposing everything to himself once again. "Don't touch me—don't—"

"I'm not going to take you right now, human, we haven't the time." Even so, his hand curls around me to cup my breast, using slight pressure to pull me tighter against him. His thick thumb flicks over my nipple and I squeak softly in protest, pulling my own arms up to shield myself, bunching the dress up against my chest.

He chuckles, wrenches the dress from my grasp, spins me around to face him. I don't have time to struggle before he's pulled the dress over my head. It flutters around my hips and down my legs, the ends of the fabric pooling at my feet. It bunches up around my breasts and I swear I see Rhys smirk as his large hands palm the fabric and tug it down to fit around my torso. It's a decent fit, the tawny fabric hugging my hips and nipping in at the slight curve of my waist. The bodice cups my breasts, not lewdly, but conspicuously enough that it seems as if they're being offered up.

This obviously does not escape Rhys' notice; his gaze drops down to my chest. With his height, his looking down on me again makes me feel like a little girl. I'm sure the objects of his interest are now blushing pink in my self-consciousness.

"I must say, this is a fine effect." Rhys takes a step back as if to appraise me. "I was wary when they brought in a courtier's dress, but it almost seems to suit you."

I scowl. He laughs, "And there you go making faces again, ruining the result." He reaches out and places his hands on my waist. I cringe, but I can't deny the slight slackening of the thread feels nice. Is this what I have to look forward to for the rest of my life, constant mild discomfort unless the fairy Prince of Darkness has his hands on me?

Rhys' hands press closer, rubbing at the fabric. A twitch of his fingers and I'm pulled forward. "Whoa!" He reaches around me so that I'm tucked into his broad chest, and I shove irritably at him.

"Calm down, little one." His fingers are at the middle of my back, and I realize he's securing a button. "I wouldn't think you would want the back of your dress hanging open."

"No..." I mutter in agreement. "You could have said something, though."

"I thought we could work on building some trust."

I make a face into his chest, where he can't see.

**************

Siobhan

The council meeting will be a long one. If one would call it a meeting at all—tradition dictates that the bride and groom of the Elixir must come before the council in a short ceremony for the purpose of official recognition, but I can't help but predict that the "recognition" will be an hour at least of poorly concealed jabs at Rhys' unfortunate human bride.

The girl doesn't deserve the position she is in, not in the least. She's been thrust into marriage to this man, who, although I consider him a friend, is not one with whom many Fae would volunteer to share a marriage bed. And Noelle, the sweet thing, is not Fae at all. Sweet as she may be, she lacks the strength to endure the prince's arrogance.

I've elected to attend the council meeting to serve as an advocate of sorts, in the apparent absence of any other allies to this girl's favor. I think I am responsible for her, in a fashion, as the woman who would have been in her place had events not unfolded the way they did. I cannot say this to the council, however, as any public mention of my intentions to wed Rhys would be considered an affront to the decision of the Elixir. The only one who knows of my thoughts is my current bed companion, who shifts restlessly as I move to leave for the council room.

Aibhlinn rolls over, blue eyes blinking sleepily at me. "Are you off to the council?" She pushes back a blonde curl from where it rests over her forehead. She's lovely, especially tousled like this from a sleepless night. And no one must know I think so.

I lean in, brushing a kiss over her pink mouth. "I'll be back by midafternoon. You ought to sleep more, love." Her arms, just thinner than mine, come up to wind around my neck.

"I wish you would sleep along with me." She nips at my ear and her voice takes on a girlish lilt, tempting me back into her embrace. It's almost cruel; she knows I would rather be anywhere but at the council, in her arms especially, and most of all between her legs.

Smirking, I reach down to pinch at her nipple, a firm pink bud raised high on her small breast. She yelps and squeezes my wrist. "Alright, alright, Bhan, go see about the council, ride in on your white steed for that human girl, but then come right back to me."

"Always."

Aibhlinn watches lazily from my bed as I don a green gown with a design as simple as I dare wear in front of the council. It's lovely, though I'd prefer breeches and a blouse, especially since I intend to take Aibhlinn riding later this day and sitting astride is eons more comfortable.

Another kiss to the beautiful blonde between my sheets and I leave my bedroom, which consists of a few chambers I occupy within the royals' quarters of the Opal clan. The Grass clan council chambers where the meeting will take place are but several strides away from the edge of Opal's borders. The two clans have always been close, both in geography and relations, since long before Rhys or I came into the world; our marriage was meant to be the final formality in sealing the bond between the two. The ability of Fae to move freely between the borders, as I am today, is a rare thing among the hundreds of clans in our world, but the trust between our respective Opal and Grass high councils runs deep. I'm especially grateful for this now.

My seat in the Grass clan council room is a few away from those in which I find Rhys and Noelle. The prince sits stiffly in his seat, while the girl seems to be attempting to make herself as inconspicuous as possible beside him. A high feat, considering the metallic golden dress she's been put in, which incidentally is spectacularly becoming on her slim frame. I find myself wishing she had reason to feel happy in it.

I take my seat. Aodh, the high priest of Rhys' clan, sits across the oblong room from me, his white hands worrying at the silver beard draping from his chin. The sub-priests and council members sit on either side of him, murmuring loudly, and it's not difficult to follow their gaze. They stare at the small woman beside Rhys, who seems all too aware of their observation of her.

The sun tilts toward the center of the sky, indicating the twelfth hour of the day, and the council room falls silent as Aodh begins on cue.

"Esteemed members and priests of the council, Prince Rhys Stiofán of the Grass Clan, Noelle his chosen wife, Princess Siobhan Concobhar of the Opal Clan, honored guests of clans Opal and Grass; as high priest of the Grass Clan of the Fae, I welcome you." Aodh pauses and there is a murmur of assent amongst the crowd. He continues, "Today we assemble to acknowledge the union by the power of the Elixir of a man and a woman." Any other man may have taken the opportunity for subtle commentary on the glaring humanity of Rhys' bride, but Aodh remains professionally impassive, a talent garnered after several centuries of life as a priest of the Elixir.

All heads turn to a single point in the room, zeroing in on the blushing human. "Please stand in recognition of their union," Aodh continues, rising from his seat. I stand with him, and watch around the room. A few of the council members stand immediately. The others present from my own clan smirk conspicuously as they wait several long blinks before rising. Others in the council do the same. Noelle stares straight ahead, her face a mask of barely concealed humiliation. She picked up easily on the slight to her own honor, but probably does not realize the gravity of what the late risers have done: by deliberately standing late, they have acquiesced to insult the Elixir as well, all in the name of their prejudice against this helpless human girl.