Damian and Mar'i Demonfire

Red Wedding (Part 3)

Since I'm not adding a massacre scene (for obvious reasons) into the story, I'll be adding some parts from Tyrion and Sansa's wedding night instead. The video above is their wedding night.  God I love Tyrion.  He's such a badass, in his own imp way.

Once the bedding ceremony is called, I feel like vomiting. It's bad enough I have to be married, now I have to be bedded. The bedding tradition had seemed wonderfully wicked when I was little, but now I felt like my dinner was about to re-appear.

While the women guests carry Damian, the male guests carry me. Surprisingly, none of them get to handsy or try to tear off my clothes. I guess they're worried about angering my father.  All around me, the sea of men laugh and make ribald comments.

"The Lord's son didn't have much to drink, so you're in for a long night, girl."

"Get on, love.  Don't make the poor boy wait any longer.  His balls must be bluer than ice."

While the men carry me off, I try not to think about what's going to happen to me when we reach the bed chambers.

The guests unceremoniously dump us onto the bed. Damian gets up, and follows the guests to the bed chamber's doors. He angrily shuts the doors closed, leaving the guests out in the hallway.

He turns back to me. His face still has that same annoyed expression he's had all night. Like it's my fault we're married. It's not that obvious to tell that he doesn't want to be married.

It's hard not to feel offended. It's not like I wanted us to get married. I had only learned that we were to be married last week.

I take in the room. It's rather large. Well embroidered Myrish curtains cover a large window. A decorative sofa has been placed by the other side of the room. A weirwood cabinet and an oak table are only a few feet away from the bed. Damian opens the cabinet, removing a glass goblet and a pitcher. He pours himself a Dornish strong red.

"Is that wise?" I ask him. Damian hasn't drunken anything tonight except for water. I'm not concerned about him. I could care less for the man who is about to take away maidenhood.  I just want to know if I'll be bedded by a drunk tonight.

"Nothing is ever wise," he replies. "If I am to get through tonight, I cannot be clearheaded."

Despite myself, my face reddens a bit. Damian notices this, but he doesn't say anything. There's a tense silence for a few moments, until Damian clear his throat.

"My lord father has commanded me to consummate this marriage." He doesn't look up from his goblet.

A wave of stillness goes through my entire body. My mother and septa had prepared me for the marriage bed, but I had never expected to be sharing it with a complete stranger.

I can't believe father had agreed to this marriage. I'm his daughter, not some brood mare.  Unfortunately, this alliance was more important to him than his only child.  I don't hate my father.  I could never hate him.  But it's really hard to not be mad at him right now.

When father had called me to his study and told me I was to be wedded, I wasn't at all pleased with him.  I had thought he was joking, until I saw that his face was utterly serious.  I felt like I had been slapped in the face.  I verbally attacked him with quite a few names before he ordered a guard to forcefully carry me to my room.  Mother came to my chambers later that evening when my viciousness had diminished.  While I sulked distraughtly, she soothingly told me that this marriage alliance was of great importance.  She told me I had to go through with it, no matter what.  I cried into her shoulder, until I fell asleep in her lap, like a child again.

I spent the duration of last night awake, unable to sleep.  Angry with father, and filled with dread.  Unfortunately, my emotions won't protect my virtue tonight.

I can't think about my father right now.  I go to the cabinet and take a goblet.  I pour myself a healthy amount of strong wine, and drain the cup.  The wine sends a rush of dizziness to my head, but I'm going to need a lot more of this stuff to make it through the night.

I have more strong wine, until I feel dizzy enough.  I set down the goblet and walk towards the bed, my back facing Damian.

I will myself to calm down, steeling my nerves.  Just relax.  This will all be over soon.  Or so I tell myself, like a fool.

My hands clumsily unlace the strings of my corset.  Once the strings are all loosened, I delicately remove the corset.  I undo the braids in my hair, letting the locks fall down with the rest of my hair.  I take off my shoes and set them aside.  My body is still shaking slightly.  Get a grip Mar'i.

Finally, I'll have to remove my dress.  My hands start to move towards the shoulder straps, but the dress is hardly removed when I feel Damian place his hand on mine.

"Stop."  I turn around and face Damian.  He looks guilty.  Guilt looks very strange on his cold features.

"I cannot," he says.  He removes his hand and goes back to the pitcher.  He pours himself another glass.

"I could, I won't."  He smirks into his goblet, although there is no real humor in it.  I feel really confused now.

"But your father-"

"If my father wants someone to get fucked, I know where he can start."  Damian drains his goblet, and sets it down.  He walks towards me.  He faces me towards him, and lifts my chin up, making me look at him.  The closeness between us makes me feel uncomfortable.

He shakes his head.  "I won't share your bed."  I continue to stare at him, confused.

"Not until you want me to.  It is not so hard to tell that you wish to remain a maiden."

He removes his hand from under my chin and walks to the other side of the room.  He sits down on the decorative sofa, and starts removing his boots.

I start toying with my necklace pendent.  It's the only piece of jewelry I wore for tonight.  I look down into the necklace's emerald pendant, and see a small reflection of myself staring back at me.  I look haughtily uncaring, not unlike Damian.  But the fear in my eyes isn't very well hidden.

"And what if I never want you to," I ask Damian, daring to look up at him.  Bold question Mar'i.  Good thing you're not in King's Landing, or you could be killed for being this reckless.

Damian doesn't say anything.  Instead, he goes to the pitcher, and refills his goblet.  He holds it up in my direction, as if a mocking toast.

"And so my watch begins," he says dryly.

He drains the chalice, and goes to the bed.  To my surprise, he removes a wicked-looking dagger from his belt.  Before I can say anything, Damian digs the knife into his palm's flesh, cutting it.  He lets some of the scarlet blood drip onto the clean, white sheets.

Clever.  Fake maiden's blood.

Once the bleeding stops, Damian tears a piece of his shirt's fabric, and bandages it around the cut palm.  He wipes the remaining blood from the dagger, and stows it back into his belt.

Damian goes back to the sofa.  He removes his jerkin, and falls right onto the decorative cushions.  It seems this is his new bed now.

I warily make my way to the dressing divider, and change into my nightgown.  Once changed, I crawl into the bed, and try to fall asleep.

I can't help but feel greatly relieved of not having been bedded tonight.  I feel incredibly grateful towards Damian.  I owe him.

I really don't know how to feel about Damian right now.  I can't say that I really trust him.  I still don't really know him whatsoever.  Throughout all of tonight, he has been nothing but coldly courteous towards me.  Not willing to be kind in any way.

But he just cut himself for me.  Faking proof of our marriage's consummation, knowing I was reluctant to go through with it.

You could've had a much worse husband Mar'i, I think to myself.  I allow a small smile to myself, and eventually give into sleep.