Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
happy monday bitches x
word count; 2051
Rosamund
My eyes flickered to the blonde beauty who stood before me. She was Owain's whore, of course, we all knew it. Even so, she wasn't just some alehouse whore; she was one of his Ealdormen's daughters. I had no doubt their dalliance had turned men against him; she had played quite the role in our exile, though -- as had I.
I could not take my eyes from her. I was ageing and she was young and fresh with long blonde hair that most women envied. I felt, by comparison, insecure and weak. She was the talk of court, no doubt, having followed Owain from Gwynedd like a lovesick puppy. And how she hated me. She believed I was not worthy of the title nor the respect I was given — but she was a mere lady. An Ealdormen's daughter — and a low ranking one at that — who had bedded out of wedlock and was proud of the shame she had incurred. Proud of her abominable sin and her new title as my husband's whore.
I watched as Owain approached her and as she giggled, twirling a yellow lock of hair in her fingers. I felt my cheeks burn as the Ealdormen of Wessex glanced from me to her, eyebrows raised and disapproval spreading across their face. He was shaming me, but a day since the loss of our child. I inhaled sharply and stood, glancing at Edward. I was infuriated.
"Forgive me, Edward, but I find I am in disreputable company and do not wish to continue this disrespect." Alas, it was the throne room; all those who mattered could see precisely what he was doing.
Edward knew precisely what I was referring to and gave me a sympathetic smile, as did Aelflaed. I would later find out that Aelflaed had refused the whore a place in her household, claiming she did not wish to harbour such a dislikable girl. I could not help but smile at that — the girl was facing her comeuppance.
The public nature of Owain's blatant flirting was nothing other than disrespectful. He wanted to show how angry he was with me for losing the child, something that was, of course, my fault. None of my children had survived; both had passed and it seemed all my fault. But I would not accept such a notion and felt God's role in this all too much. It was his fault.
I, alas, was no perfect woman nor free from sin; Finan was living proof of that. But I had never been so public in my alleged 'cuckolding' of Owain and never disrespected him in full view of all others. That was not the Frankish way or, as my husband so liked to remind me, nor the way of which I was now accustomed — the Wessex way.
I sauntered down the stone steps past them and my ladies followed; no doubt Addela was glaring at them. Likewise, Aelwyd had not taken a particular fancy to the whore. She had argued with Owain many a time in previous days about this girl and felt his disrespect of me would, no doubt, lead to the fires of my Father crushing him like an ant underfoot. I didn't quite agree but I thanked her for the sentiment.
