Chapter Text
Roose wasn’t at supper that evening. And he didn’t return to his private chambers either. Jorran told Meryll there was a staggering amount of letters for Roose to review and that she shouldn’t wait up. Meryll was still feeling the effects of too much wine the eve prior and went to bed early, leaving a few candles lit for Roose.
She woke up hours later when a very exhausted looking Roose climbed into bed, warm from the baths and smelling of the oils she had mixed for him. She turned toward him and tried to burrow into his side but he growled and told her to roll over. He pulled her back flush against his chest and buried his face into her neck and was asleep before she could suggest any carnal activities.
It seemed it wasn’t a night for sleep as they were both woken not long after that by Jorran. Roose got out of bed and spoke quietly with Jorran at the bedchamber door.
“What is happening?” Meryll asked.
“Go back to sleep, Meryll. I will take care of it,” Roose answered and he and Jorran left together.
Roose had still not returned when Meryll woke up at her usual time in the morning. Once again, Ser Barri had happily taken Roose’s spot in the bed.
Meryll enjoyed her time working with her fifty hand-picked archers in the yard. She had learned from Roose how to garner respect from her men, and was careful to give reward where it was due and to make sure her criticisms always had purpose and were never cruel.
After bathing and dressing, Meryll found Jorran on duty outside her chamber door. “Where is Roose?” she asked. Jorran shifted his feet uncomfortably.
“He is meeting with his council,” Jorran finally said. The discomfort in his stance filled Meryll with suspicion.
“Why was I not invited?” Meryll asked.
“Meryll, promise me you won’t do anything stupid,” Jorran began.
“Just tell me, Jorran.”
Jorran frowned. “Your kinsmen, Elmar, tried to send a letter to the Twins without anyone noticing last night. The letter was for Lord Frey. Elmar spent the night in the dungeons. Now Meryll-“
But Meryll had already slipped past Jorran and was running down the stairs. When she approached the council chamber, the guard attempted to stop her entry, but she pushed past him and burst into the room.
“What will you do with Elmar?” she demanded.
Roose paused his pacing. “Lady Bolton,” he said wearily, “We were just discussing that. Why don’t you have a seat.” He gestured to an empty seat. Meryll glanced around the table. Roger, Rickard and Ser Beron looked extremely uncomfortable. Steelshanks was avoiding her eyes, but Barbrey was ever watchful.
“I will not sit down until you tell me what is going on,” Meryll said firmly.
Roose sighed. “Elmar was caught sending military secrets to your grandfather.”
“How would Elmar even know such things?” Meryll asked. “He is not privy to any of these decisions.”
“He’s been reading all the letters and making copies. I don’t know for how long.”
“So what now?” Meryll asked. She knew espionage was considered treason, but Elmar was so young.
Roose crossed his arms. “I will question him myself, and then he will be executed.”
Meryll clenched her hands in fists at her side. “You will do no such thing, Roose. Elmar is just a child.”
Roose bristled at her tone and his eyes went cold. “He is guilty of treason.”
“He is twelve years old!” Meryll shot back.
“Old enough to know the consequences,” Roose said. “Now sit down so we can discuss what this means.” His voice had gone very quiet, and somewhere in the back of Meryll’s mind, she knew that meant she should be treading very carefully, but that wasn’t the part of the mind that controlled Meryll’s mouth.
“You are a monster!” she hissed and stormed out of the room.
“Meryll,” Roose said from behind her, a warning tone in his voice.
She took off down the corridor and could hear Roose following and calling her name, increasingly angry each time he called out, so she broke into a run. It occurred to her that she didn’t even know where the Dreadfort dungeons were, but at this point she just wanted to get as far away from Roose as possible. She headed toward the east tower, thinking she could bar the door when she reached their chambers.
She yanked open the door to the tower and tried to slam it in Roose’s face, but he was able to get his foot in the door before she could push it closed. He lunged at her, but she twisted away and ran up the stairs. Meryll made it about halfway up the stairs before she felt Roose’s hand close around her ankle. He yanked and she fell face down, not quite getting her hands under her in time and her jaw slammed painfully into the edge of the stone stairs.
Roose pulled her by her leg toward him, his face stony and unyielding. She rolled over and kicked at him. Roose swore and let go of her ankle as her boot connected with his face. Meryll turned and took off up the stairs again but this time he tackled her, grabbing her by the waist and climbing on top of her. She rolled over to her back and slapped him across the face. The sound of her palm hitting his cheek was so satisfying that she raised her other hand to do it again, but he grabbed her wrist in an iron grip and forced her arm back down.
In an instant, Roose’s eyes went from icy cold to molten heat. Gods, is he actually aroused by this? Meryll thought, growing angrier. But she found her anger fed her own desire as well. She managed to get a knee up between them and wrestled with Roose until she was on top and the edges of the stairs were digging into his back instead of hers. And then her fingers were yanking at the laces of his breeches and his hands were gathering her skirts up.
Meryll practically snarled as she sank down on Roose’s cock, and he allowed her exactly two pumps of her hips against his before rolling her under him again. He bent his head down to bite at her lips, a feral version of a kiss, and she answered in kind by digging her nails into his scalp. Their fucking was brutal and animalistic, hands tearing at each other and each of them hissing curses at each other in between the less controlled noises that they were making.
Only caring about her own pleasure, Meryll reached her hand between their bodies to rub between her legs. She barely noticed the discomfort of the stone edges behind her back and head as she rubbed out her release, her cry hoarse and raw, echoing in the narrow stone stairwell. Roose’s own release was not long after, and was accompanied by a savage growl as he collapsed on Meryll. Immediately, she was kicking and pushing him off of her, disgusted with herself and not wanting any part of him touching her anymore. Roose rolled away, breathing hard.
Meryll pulled her skirts down, noting her bloodied elbows and knees. She tried to stand but a spasm of pain shot through her back and her knees buckled beneath her.
“Roose?” Jorran called, coming up the stairs. Roose stood and laced his breeches.
“Help Lady Bolton to her chambers,” Roose said calmly, as if he hadn’t been rutting on the stairs like a beast just a few minutes earlier, and turned and left.
Meryll was trembling as Jorran lifted her and carried her up the stairs and into the study. He exchanged a few quiet words with the guard outside the door before entering. The second Jorran laid Meryll down on the settee, she sat up, ignoring the twinge of pain.
“Where was Roose going?” she asked, pushing away the furs Jorran was trying to lay over her.
“Meryll, he’s going to the dungeons,” Jorran said, and sat down beside her.
Meryll stood and was heading toward the door when Jorran stopped her. “Don’t bother, the door is bolted from the outside.”
Meryll sat again. “Roose is questioning Elmar right now?” she asked.
“I think so, kitten,” Jorran said, pulling Meryll into his arms when her eyes filled with tears. Meryll cried for a long time in Jorran’s arms, trying not to imagine what horrors young Elmar was experiencing, and trying not imagine those horrors being committed by a man she cared for very much.
After a time, Jorran offered to send someone to bring up Meryll’s midday meal, but Meryll declined. She stood and paced, aware that she had picked up one of her husband’s irritating habits. “Even if Elmar was sending information to grandfather, it likely had nothing to do with the ambush on the supply lines,” Meryll reasoned. “Grandfather would never take direct action against another house unless victory was absolutely assured. The espionage makes sense. He will sit back and gather as much information as possible in order to decide which horse he should place his bet on.”
“We don’t know if Elmar was sending information to anyone else other than Lord Frey. Or if Lord Frey was passing the information on to someone else,” Jorran said. “It may not have been related to the ambush, but it doesn’t change the fact that Elmar is guilty of treason.”
Meryll sighed. “Elmar would have done anything to please my grandfather. He is the youngest of my grandfather’s sons. He took his duties very seriously.”
Meryll spent the afternoon alternating between pacing, raging and weeping. She told Jorran several times he could leave, but he refused to leave her alone. She was back in his arms crying again when Barbrey entered.
Barbrey briskly removed her gloves and cloak and threw them over Roose’s chair. “It is done,” she said, watching dispassionately as Meryll wept a fresh fall of tears. Barbrey waved Jorran away with a flick of her hand and sat on the settee beside Meryll. “Your young kinsmen died bravely,” Barbrey said, awkwardly patting Meryll’s shoulder. “He accepted his sentence with grace. And it was a clean death.”
“And the interrogation?” Meryll asked. “Was Elmar hurt terribly?”
“Roose never laid a hand him,” Barbrey said, looking as if she disapproved. “He didn’t need to. Elmar is quite a chivalrous young man. Roose listed in great detail all the ways he would torture you if Elmar didn’t talk. He sang sweetly as a bird after that.”
Meryll couldn’t decide if she should be angry or grateful. “And what did Elmar say?” Meryll asked.
“Just that Lord Frey wanted reports on any matters of note. Elmar has been sending information back to the Twins for over a year now,” Barbrey said. “Roose asked him if he knew what the sentence for treason was and he said he did. He was given the option of beheading or hanging. He chose beheading.”
“He was a child,” Meryll said tearfully.
Barbrey gave Meryll an imperious look. “You are the one acting the child, Meryll. What was Roose supposed to do? He can’t been seen going soft on traitors. And you are the Lady Bolton. How does it look when you question your husband’s orders? When he makes difficult decisions, that is when he needs your support the most.”
Meryll stiffened. “I don’t think it was a very difficult decision for him,” she said.
Barbrey gave Meryll a sharp look. “Oh no? Do you think he enjoyed killing his lady wife’s kinsmen knowing she’d be furious with him? And do you think it’s normal for him to question a traitor without bloodying his hands? He may have lost out on extracting crucial information from Elmar as to not upset your delicate sensibilities.”
Meryll said nothing.
Barbrey sighed. “You are the Lady of the Dreadfort. There is no place for tears.” Barbrey reached into a pocket in her skirts to pull out a square of silk. She carefully wiped the tears from Meryll’s cheeks and when she was done, she put the silk back in her pocket. As if she couldn’t resist, Barbrey reached out and ran her fingers over the blooming bruise on Meryll’s jaw with an almost wistful look in her eyes. “Roose looks worse for wear than you do. And to think that old bruise of his was almost healed. Did you give him that one too?”
Meryll shook her head. “Jorran,” she explained.
Barbrey raised an eyebrow. “My, how things have changed at the Dreadfort.”
Roose entered then. If he was surprised to see Barbrey sitting with Meryll, he didn’t show it. “Meryll. You will join me in the Great Hall for supper this evening, and you will be civil.” He didn’t wait for a response and went downstairs to the baths.
Barbrey rose to leave. “I will send in your handmaid to fix your hair,” she said. “It's an absolute mess. Come along, Jorran.”
When Anna arrived, she insisted that Meryll change her dress. Meryll hadn’t noticed until then how filthy the dress was from her rolling around in the tower stairwell. Anna inhaled sharply when she saw Meryll’s back, but didn’t mention anything, and was as efficient and quick as ever in getting Meryll laced up in a clean dress, and tidying up her hair.
Meryll was sitting on the settee when Roose came in from the baths. He had changed into a faded grey tunic and fitted black breeches tucked into his boots. He pulled on his black leather doublet and sat beside Meryll, his knees angled toward her. She saw he had a jar of Tybald’s ointment in his hand. “Are your knees as raw as mine?” he asked wryly. Meryll flipped her skirts up to reveal her scraped and bloody knees. Roose got up to wet a cloth with water from a pitcher on the table, and returned to gently clean away the blood and debris.
“I understand why you did what you did,” Meryll said stiffly. “But I don’t have to like it.”
Roose looked up. “I don’t expect you to like it. I didn’t even expect you to understand it. But I won’t tolerate such outbursts in public. I’ve always been clear on that. You can speak freely to me in private, and I will let you know when you can speak freely in the council chambers, but otherwise you will not question my decisions.” He carefully dabbed Tybald’s ointment on Meryll’s knees.
“Will you punish me?” Meryll asked.
Roose stoppered the jar and put it back in his pocket. He reached up to gently touch the bruise on her jaw, and his eyes softened some. “I think you have been punished enough, Meryll.”
Meryll touched the angry gash her boot had left on Roose’s cheek. “And you?”
Roose removed her hand from his face. “I’m fine,” he said. He leaned in and kissed her lips softly but pulled back when she winced. Meryll gingerly touched her lips with her fingers. They were swollen and felt bruised to the touch.
Meryll stood to find her looking glass and laughed when she saw her reflection in the glass. The bruise on her jaw was a dazzling array of red, purple and blue and her lips were swollen and raw. Roose’s bites had actually drawn blood in a few spots. “We’ll make quite the pair at supper tonight,” Meryll said.
Roose stood and offered Meryll his arm. “Shall we go?”
Supper was a rather sedate affair; the execution of young Elmar had an effect on everyone in the keep. Roose had forbid anyone from sharing the news outside the Dreadfort, which was easy enough to enforce with the ravens being monitored. No one dared to comment on the injuries of Lord and Lady Bolton, however, Lady Barbrey seemed completely fascinated by them and could scarcely drag her eyes away from their faces while they were eating. It was starting to make Meryll uncomfortable and ever sensitive to her moods, Roose stood and escorted Meryll back to their chambers.
He stopped at the door, explaining that he had many letters to review with Tybald, and held her tight for a moment before turning to leave.
“Roose,” she called after him. He looked back.
“Thank you for not being unnecessarily cruel to Elmar,” Meryll said.
Roose raised an eyebrow. “You might not say that if you knew the things I told him I would do to you.”
Meryll shook her head. “I don’t want to know.”
“No, you don’t,” Roose said. “We need to talk more about your grandfather and what this means. Tomorrow.” He disappeared down the stairs.