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"If you cannot do this simple thing child, how can you be expected to be the leader of this clan one day when I am gone?"
But Grandmother, I am afraid...
"A woman's strength is in her ability to take what her husband gives to her and say nothing, no matter how it hurts or disturbs her."
Mother...is this why you and Father don't sleep in the same room anymore?
"I know you're probably frightened, but it shouldn't be too bad; he seems like a sweet boy."
But...what if he doesn't want me? What if he's really not kind and gentle, as you've assured me, Sister?
"Husband." Taking a breath and trying to push the thoughts of rejection and fear from her mind, Meiran bowed to the boy on the other side of the bed from her. He looked as uncomfortable as she felt, but he gave no reassurances to her as she spoke the words that would begin the ritual. "I belong to you." Glancing up, she saw the look of distaste cross his features.
In that single moment, any hope she may have had vanished and a cold lump settled in her chest. She wanted to cry, even ask him what made her so horrible to him that he didn't want her. All her life, she had been told that any man would be honored to have her as his wife; she would be loved and respected. But instead, she had been married to a boy no older than herself, who had carefully paid such loving attention to his books and scrolls, without giving her a second glance on the day they had met some time before the decision of an appropriate mate was made. He had addressed her respectfully enough; it was expected after all, and spoke very few words to her after the adults had left the room to speak about a possible union.
She wanted to cry out at him to just forget it; she couldn't do it. But instead, she felt her fingers rise to the fastenings on her shirt and begin to unhook them automatically, repeating a mantra to herself, trying to calm her nerves. You do this every night; you undress for bed and climb in...only tonight, there is no other clothing and you are forced to be with a husband that doesn't want you. She almost bit her lip when the last of the thoughts occurred to her. Stop it! I am strong...I am Nataku?I can bear the injustice of this action for the sake of my clan and my honor...just this once.
As her clothing slid to the floor, she chanced a minute glance at WuFei, his own shirt being discarded. His cheeks were reddening and he refused to look at her still, then his face paled to a sickly tint when he realized she was looking at him. Her eyes hardened and her features drew taut with anger as she finished undressing and crawled into the bed, staring at him, trying to make him as uncomfortable as she was.
His body was far from fully developed, as was her own, but she couldn't stop her gaze from wandering over his skin, the blush returning to his cheeks as a few stray locks of his hair fell into his eyes. She supposed he was handsome enough, he appeared to be endowed well enough in the area that was the subject of so much talk among her peers, particularly among the older girls that had done IT already. They had claimed it was rather enjoyable, but then again, if they were doing such a questionable act before marriage, she wasn't so sure she could trust their judgement.
Then, before she realized it, he had crawled into the bed beside her. She could feel the heat radiating off his skin under the cool sheets and she wondered briefly, if his heart was beating as hard and fast as her own was; if he could feel the tattoo that threatened to shake the entire bed with it's power. For a moment, she felt the urge to tell him what she was feeling; that she didn't want to do this, not yet, that she wasn't ready to do this thing. But when her mouth opened, she was horrified to discover her words were being squeezed out between her teeth in an angry tone.
"You aren't even a man," she heard her voice hiss at him. "How can they expect us to complete the ritual if you have yet to reach manhood?"
A pained expression crossed his features as he turned his head to look at her. "It was not my desire to wed with you, much less at such a tender age as ours. You are the heir of the Dragon Clan and I your husband. The ritual must be completed, whether we are capable or no." His voice sounded so cold to her, so angry. She supposed that after what she had said, he had every right to be, but something inside her shrank into the proverbial corner and then lashed out like a frightened rat.
But she found even in her anger that she couldn't bring herself to look at him as the next words fell out of her mouth, seeming of their own free will. "You are weak. You are not worthy to be the husband of the last heir of the Dragon Clan! You are not worthy of doing this thing to my body! There is no justice in this action! There is no justice in the fact that I am a woman when I should have been a man so that I would not have to suffer this indignity!"
"And so, instead, you would have another woman, one who would 'suffer' under you?" he replied crossly. How could he think for even one moment that she would wish that?
She turned her head back to him, becoming truly angry with him for his accusation. "I would have no wife at all, nor a husband. A man may order his destiny. I would simply have told the Elder I did not wish a mate at all."
She knew that she had been acting ridiculous when she had said it, but the sound of a contemptuous snort hurt all the more when he told her, "I am living proof that objections do not a free man make, wife."
That was the one thing that was going to be the end of her and she knew it; the knowledge that he didn't want her and that he was more than happy to point it out to her as often as he liked. "Bastard," she cursed angrily, hoping that he hadn't seen how much his words had cut her, turning her head abruptly so that he wouldn't see the rapid blinking of her eyes as she tried to quell the sting she felt at the back of them.
His next words, uncertain and somewhat hopeful, caught her off-guard. "It is said there may be pleasure in this act," he offered her. "I would wish not to cause you pain by it. Perhaps we could come to a..."
However, instead of comforting her in any way, it only made her more angry. Now all of a sudden he 'didn't want to hurt her?' She was a warrior and the kind words were taken as a challenge to her; the gentle offer became condescending to her ears. "Yamete! I do not wish pleasure from you, only that this be over and done and that I never have to look upon you or your disgusting nudity ever again!" she cried, turning to face him, barely keeping her rage in check.
"One moment and then it will be done and you will not have to look upon my 'disgusting nudity' again for the rest of your life, woman," he snapped back, not even bothering to control the hurt and anger in his voice or dark eyes. When she made no move to placate him, or even calm herself any, he slid off the bed to where his clothes had pooled on the floor, searching through the pockets for something, his face set in a look of concentration.
She watched him, trying to keep her face emotionless as he climbed back up onto the bed with a small jar in his hand, sliding under the covers once more, kneeling close beside her. "Open your legs," he told her, taking a no-nonsense tone that brooked no argument, sending her heart into a pounding rhythm of fear. So, she did the only thing she could, spreading her legs and turning her head to the side again, so she wouldn't have to look at him kneeling there, his body over her own, in the position of power that only made the horrifying situation a reality.
It was brought even more sharply to her attention when she felt the cool wetness of cream being set near her opening on her husband's slender fingers. The fear jumped within her and she screwed her face into a mask of unhappy discomfort. She wouldn't cry and she wouldn't let him know how badly he was scaring her by being there, by being close to her in a way no one ever had been, nor ever would be again. It took all of her strength not to cry out when she felt the cautious probe of a single digit within her, carefully, albiet clumsily spreading the cream within her body. Then, it was gone, only to be replaced by more cream a moment later, his hands shaking as they slowly worked upward, shyly reaching to brush his thumb over a place that set her body on fire.
Her entire being jerked and she sat up, her hand flying through the air between them and landing with a loud crack across his cheek before her motion even registered in her mind. She had said she only wanted to get the situation over with, yet there he was, not only ignoring her order to not even try for the so-called 'pleasure' of the experience, but doing so from that higher position. She idly wondered if maybe she could make him angry enough to just do it, try not to be so nice about it, so that the pain and waiting would just be over and done with. As it was, she could tell his patience was waning and maybe it would only take a bit more of a push... "Do it," she ordered him with a jeer. "Just get it over with and get out!"
He pulled away from her enough to once again gather a fingerful of the cream and spread it onto his organ, dropping the jar to the floor. He slowly rubbed the lotion over the shaft, attempting to coax it into an erection. A few strokes brought it up as he stared at her, a half-terrified look pleading with her from eyes that had widened somewhat since she had slapped him. His cheeks were crimson all over again and he seemed incredibly embarrassed about something, but she refused to ask him what was wrong.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, he slid down a bit, between her legs and holding himself up with one arm, his other hand brushed her leg for a moment as he reached down between his own legs. She felt the uncertain nudge of something infinitely larger and more frightening than his slender fingers. A gasp escaped her throat before she could stop it, then angry with herself, she forced all her anger to the forefront of her mind. She had to prompt her thoughts that he was doing this to her whether she wanted it or not; forget that he really was trying to be gentle with her...that revelation only hurt her more.
"Do it, damn you!"
With her words, commanded as sharply as if she were passing judgement on an errant individual of low status, he forced his only mostly hard member into her, breaking the thin membrane that signified her purity. The unfamiliar feeling of something there and being pushed back and forth hurt so much more than she dreamed of! It was as if she were being pried and abraded with some sort of roughly-hewn rod. The only sound she heard from him was a grunt of pain; apparently he was no better off than she was.
Making sure that she did nothing to let him know how much it really did hurt, she kept herself angry and spiteful through the whole thing, blatantly ignoring the tears that threatened at his eyes, matting his own lashes into thick clumps as he stared down at her. It didn?t last long, but it was enough to be a painful reminder of who she was, that she was heir, but still only a woman. A small sob escaped his lips as he sat up, brushing his fingers over her sex again long enough to procure a small amount of her blood to stain the pristine sheets beneath them, trying desperately to get the sticky fluid off himself as well.
"Get out. Get out and don't you ever dare touch me again, you worthless piece of shit," she commanded harshly, trying to keep her tears inside long enough so he wouldn't see. She even went so far as to bite down on the inside of her cheek to stop the sob that wanted to force its way into the cold air between them.
And to her surprise, he calmly got up, picking up the now-useless jar from the floor and set it on a low table near the door after he pulled on his clothing. He was crying silently now, tears spilling down his reddened cheeks as he refused to so much as glance back at her. "It did not have to be this way, Meiran," he implored a final time, his hand shakily reaching for the door. His voice, or rather the thickness of it, frightened her and she knew that if he didn't leave, she would find herself begging him to stay with her, clinging to him, just to try and keep the painful burning from her loins and the empty cold from her chest.
"I am Nataku," she ground out, her own voice seeming alien to her. "You have sullied me once. Never do it again!"
He stiffened minutely and stepped outside, shutting the door firmly but quietly behind him without so much as a fleeting look in her direction. After he had taken a few steps and she could hear the low voice of the Elder, followed by his own quiet, shamed reply, she took a deep breath that shook her entire frame. The painful sting at the back of her eyes had returned and somewhere inside, she felt as though something had been ripped away from her. It then occurred to her that no matter what she had gone through in her life, all the training, all the preparation and passing of knowledge, she had never felt so alone or afraid.
When she heard the Elder's quiet tread outside her door for a brief moment, apparently listening, as they were wont to do more often than not, she held her breath, silently willing him to go away and leave her alone. Then, when she was certain he was gone, she bit down on her fist and choked back a sob. She felt sticky and filthy down there, and it scared her. She lifted the sheets just enough to look and shook when she saw the crimson smear on the linen. Too frightened to even scream or cry out, she scrambled out of the bed, nearly falling as she did so, trying to get to the wash basin in the back corner of the room.
Pouring some water into the bowl, she grabbed the cloth beside it, submerging the soft white square until it was quite sodden. Carefully raising it, and still spilling and dropping water everywhere as she wrung it out, she moved her shaking hands to wipe away the blood which was turning to a drying itch between her legs. The shock of cold made her gasp when the insides of her thighs met with the washrag, but she forced herself to endure it, to get the proof of what had been done to her away from her skin. It was when she noticed the water in the basin turning pink that her vision blurred and her breath choked painfully inside her chest. She did cry out finally, but no sound accompanied the strangled hiccough of air being painfully forced through her aching throat.
Once again, the wash cloth was brought between her legs, the once gentle scrubbing being replaced with hard, frantic passes across her tender skin. She had to get the feeling of WuFei's weight pressed there, his small hips digging into the soft flesh there as he'd pushed his erection into her, his shaking breath as he painfully thrust repeatedly inside her body, the soft puffs of air as he choked back his own crying, hurting and afraid as she was. The coolness of the water eased some of the burning ache there, once she tried to wipe the clotting fluid from the downy thatch of hair that had only barely began to shadow the juncture of her legs. It hurt so much, but she couldn?t bear to feel dirty anymore, violated and torn from the inside out.
After a long while of frantic rubbing and washing, even after the cloth had stopped staining itself, she dropped it back into the water and fell to her knees, barely having the strength to crawl back to the bed and pull herself up onto it. She refused to go back to her side of it, where that ugly tarnish was slowly turning the color of old rust. She considered pulling the clean sheets away and making a pallet on the floor, so she wouldn?t have to be so close to it, but as it was, it hurt to move and she wasn?t sure she would even be able to stand upright. So instead, she curled into a ball on the side her husband had occupied, the sheets already cold and barely disturbed. For what little security she could draw from it, she pulled the pillow that had briefly held his head to her shaking body and buried her face into it, hoping at least some of his strength would left there for her to find and might comfort her.
All she found was the scent of the air outside, where her mother had hung the sheets out after washing them, preparing them for the evening she had just endured so poorly. Now that she was alone, certain that there was no one outside, she let her tears flow, bleeding the pillowcase with the liquid manifestation of her shame and pain. There was a keening coming from somewhere and it took her a few moments to realize the sound was her as she wept bitterly. Finally, she came to think that she was not worthy, she was not strong enough to lead her clan if she couldn't handle such a small indignity without crying like a child. The realization hit hard and it hurt even more than the receding ache between her legs had, or even the lump in her chest that seemed to be getting heavier, making it hard to breathe.
The feeling of despair had finally made itself known and she greeted it the only way she truly knew how; with tears and muffled screams, helplessly trying to do anything to fight back. She beat at the mattress and pillows with balled fists, she pulled at her hair for a short while, she even considered throwing the wash basin into the wall, just to watch it break. Then the small dark jar on the table caught her sight.
Scrabbling over to snatch it from its perch, she closed her hand around it and brought it down hard on the floor in front of her. It did nothing except to painfully jar her entire arm, her shoulder screaming in agony from the jolt. She threw it, beginning to sob all over again, curling onto the floor, too tired and scared to move anymore.
It wasn't fair! How could he just get up and walk out like that when she had needed him?! What kind of husband had the Elders chosen for her?
One that listens to his wife.
But he wasn't supposed to! Not now! He was supposed to be strong and prove that he was worthy of being her mate! He was supposed to tell her to be quiet and hold her close, soothing her when the tears finally did come, never to speak of it to anyone, ever.
As her bitter sobbing finally quieted to whimpers, she crawled back into bed and miserably shut her eyes, vowing to never listen to him again. He hadn't been there when she had needed him to be and she would never forgive him for it. Not ever.
