Rose Brandon- Her Mother's Daughter.

Chapter 9

John was extraordinarily cold to me after the birth of our daughter. He would do his best to make sure I was miserable at all times, hating to see me smiling and laughing. One day, I came to our chambers to see him sitting in an armchair, staring at the door, evidently waiting for me. I walked into the room, aware of his intense glare.
"Curtesy to your lord husband, and to your lord father."I looked up to see my father, standing next to John . I dropped into a tiny curtesy, aware of John's eyes boring into me.
"Deeper." He said. I went into a deeper curtesy.
"Rise." John ordered. I did so, and saw them both glaring at me.
"I have spoke to the midwife who recently examined you, and she believes you still have a chance of being able to deliver children. I hope that that will be proven right, wife. However, I would like to further examine you. Please take off your dress." He said coldly. I started, wrapping warm arms around myself. He shook his head, and shot over to me so he could hold me down and rip of my dress. I felt my fathers cold hands roaming my body, sticking meaty fingers up my cunt, feeling round. He tweaked my breasts, moulding them harshly like dough in his fingers. John placed a hand over my mouth.I continued to scream, trying to shake Fathers hands off me.
"Father.. please. Please!!!" I screamed, my voice muffled.
"She is fertile still, I think." He said, releasing me. John nodded thoughtfully.
"Well.. perhaps there needs to be some kind of incentive, something to jolt her into wanting to conceive for me. I must speak to the King." He bent down and I felt cold lips brush my forehead.
"Get dressed. There is a banquet today and I wish you to attend." He stalked away. My dress landed on me and I saw my father, glaring at me.
"Dress. Now. Stay in your chambers until the banquet." He walked away too. I shakily got up, brushing myself down. How could my father do that to me? My own father, cruelly touching me, with no emotion other than spite in his eyes. I looked at my dress and saw it was stained with my juices. My father must have wiped his fingers on it. I weakly walked over to my wardrobe and picked out a midnight black gown. I would be making a statement, all right. I put it on, noticing that it was scarily low cut, almost whorish. My husband would certainly despise it. I put my silver B on and loaded my fingers with rings. I brushed my hair until it shone like gold. Soon, it was time to attend the banquet. I walked into the banquet hall, and saw my husbands eyes flash with fury. The King, Edward VI, beckoned me over to him.
"Lady Rose, why are you dressed like you are attending a funeral for our merriments?"
"I am attending the funeral of my marriage, your majesty." The King looked taken-aback.
"Lady Rose, my dear cousin, I am not pleased at your attitude towards your marriage and your husband." I rolled my eyes. His eyes flashed dangerously. "I have already had your husband talking about his complaints towards you. Go stand over there. Your husband and I are going to talk about how to discipline you." I stalked off and stood in the corner, whilst my husband and the King had a whispered conference. My husband soon beckoned me over, like a dog, and I stood before them both.
"Lady Rose, you, your husband, and your daughter, are to go to stay in the countryside for a year. So you are in the constant presence of your husband. Hopefully, when you arrive back to court, you will have a son."