It was a mere fortnight later that Lord Royson, before a small group of friends and loved ones, wed Lady Sofia. The short notice did not allow for an extravagant celebration, but because he was still of little of means and most beholden to the king he could ill afford to throw a large party.


Still both the King and his Queen attended. This of course did not go unnoticed by the other nobles in attendance.
The Britons, there noses forever in the air or in a brown orifice, thought it lucky for him to have the King attend at all, as his Lordly status is so recent. They didn’t take into account the long-standing friendship Lewen and Dimitri have nor the family ties of Lady Maryann Donovan being Sofia’s own sister and now aunt to the Queen.
In any case, no one paid the couple a bit of mind and barely noticed when they slipped off early, only taking note that Lady Briton looked as thin as ever even after having just given birth to a son. A comment was whispered about too tight stays but the couple was quickly forgotten.


Lady Royson was quite flattered when the King and Queen wished her well on her marriage. King Dimitri welcomed her warmly to the family and insisted they be on a first name basis. He also invited her to attend them at court after their honeymoon was over. She of course accepted and thanked him for the generous offer.


Queen Alexia pulled Sofia to the side as they made their way back into the parlor. She inquired as to the lady’s health and asked her if she was happy. Smiling, Sofia nodded and assured the Queen she was well and quite happily married to a man she loved. Alexia couldn’t help but notice a sad look come into the woman’s eyes and made a note to speak to her husband about his friend.
“Lady Royson, the Queen smiled when Sofia flushed at her new title, “I would like you to come serve me as Lady in waiting when you and your husband have settled your household and are over your honeymoon.”
Sofia nodded slowly. “Serving you would be an honor my Queen.” Her husbands status had changed drastically and she knew it would be most beneficial to get to know her new Queen/niece.
“And please, call me Sofia. We are family after all.”
Alexia laughed softly, “Yes, we are aren’t we?” Taking her hand in hers she gave it a brief squeeze. “You shall call me Alexia, or Lexi, when in private. And I’ll call you Aunt Sofie.”
Both ladies giggled at that for Alexia was nearly four years older than Sofia.

They were interrupted by others wanting to wish the new bride well. Maryann, pulled her sister into a fierce hug, kissing her several times and patting her hair.
“Oh, Sofie! We’re free!” She whispered low in her sisters ear.
Pulling away slightly she looked her sister in the eye and smiled widely. “You must make peace with father. Mother asked me to and I have. She says things will change now. I believe her.”
Sofia nodded and looked around. She didn’t see her mother, although she knew she was in attendance. Was she avoiding her?
“Ann, do you… are you… happy?” Sofia asked her hesitantly, having caught sight of Lord Donovan from the corner of her eye.
Maryann, smiled and Sofia thought it was like a light had gone off inside her.
“Oh yes, “she whispered fervently, “He is a wonderful husband. So kind and understanding. He allows me my freedom and isn’t at all demanding. We are good company for each other.” She stopped suddenly, her face flushing.
She leaned in closer. “I…I am going to have a baby Sofie!”
Sofia’s eyes widened and she looked over at the elderly Lord Donovan. “Indeed?!” she couldn’t imagine how…
A speculating look came into her eyes and her grip tightened on her sisters hands. “When Ann?” she asked,her eyes worried. “When is the baby to come?”
Maryann flushed and stepped back. “Go, see father. Please?”


Sofia opened her mouth to respond but suddenly she was engulfed in a big hug.
“Ah, my Sofia. My flower. The light of my life. How I will miss you!” Lord Montague snuffled into his daughters hair, squeezing her so tight she feared she’d pop.
Fa..Father. Are you well?” She pulled back to look at him in astonishment.
His nose was red as were his eyes, which to her surprise; seemed to be wet with tears.
“Ah, my dear. It’s just an old man feeling his age.” He sighed and caressed her hair, his stare intense.
“I… I have made some mistakes in my life. There are things I regret and, well I always wanted a son..”
He looked away a fierce frown on his face.
Sofia shook her head and looked around for her mother. It was obvious her father had been drinking.
“Father, why don’t you sit and have a game of chance. You love to play cards don’t you?” She ushered him to a chair and left him to his game.
She wondered where his sudden moodiness had come from and attested it to age.


It was several hours later, and the servants were ushering out the last guest when her husband approached.
Standing quickly she waited for him to say something, surprised when he took her hand.
“My Lady Royson,” he caressed her fingertips with his own before bringing her hand to his lips.
“How beautiful you look. Like the choicest rose upon the bush. But beware to those who would come near, for this rose has thorns.” His fingers tightened on hers when she would pull her hand away.
“You are drunk.” Sofia whispered angrily, glancing around to be sure no servants watched. The room was thankfully empty.
“Perhaps, but you are a manipulative whore, which cannot be remedied after a mere nights sleep.” His sneering words turned her cold and she successfully pulled her hand out of his and left the room.

He was right behind her and she watched as he stalked into the room, slamming the door behind him.
Backing slowly into a corner she shook her head as he came near.
“If you think to have me while you reek of spirits…”
“Ha!, he scoffed loudly, going around her to rummage through a trunk at the foot of the bed.
“I think we’ve had our ‘wedding night’ several times over now my lady” he sneered that last word.
She watched silently as he changed from his wedding frock to a rough tunic and leggings.
“Where are you going?” she finally mustered up the courage to ask.
He looked her way, his eyes roving over her form in the white and cream wedding dress.
“Let’s get something straight right now.” He said, stepping toward her. “You are my wife, my chattel if you will. You do what I say, you go where I say, You are mine to do with as I please. I do not answer to you.”
He raised a hand to brush it over her breast, his fingers skimming up to brush her neck.
Slowly his hand closed around her neck and he pulled her to him, his lips taking hers in a deeply possessive kiss.
Pulling away from her he laughed softly seeing her flushed face, eyes shining with desire.
“I…you..” her lashes lowered, hiding her eyes from him as he pulled away from her.
“Stay warm for me Lady, I intend to get my full moneys worth upon my return.”

She watched him walk away, her heart thumping wildly in her chest, her face a burning mask of shame. Turning she looked around, her thoughts in chaos.
It was her mothers marriage, she had vowed to avoid. And now it seemed she was stuck in her very own version.
Whimpering softly she wrung her hands a moment before straightening her shoulders. She wouldn’t let this deter her. She was free of the evils of her fathers household. She would make things better. She would do whatever she could to make it right.
Putting her face in her hands she gave a soft whimper. But it wasn’t right.
Her husband thought her a manipulative bitch. He’d called her a whore.
She finally gave vent to the tears she’d been holding in for so long.
She wished so much that she could be strong and stoic in the face of her husbands hatred, like her mother. Not caring. But the problem was, she loved her husband. And she knew deep inside he loved her. She’d felt that love all summer. Though he tried to deny it, she knew it was there. Now it seemed she would never have it again.
The servants, hearing there mistresses tears, steered clear of the master suite. The new Lady Royson wept into the wee hours of the night finally sleeping amid her tear soaked pillows. Alone.

———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

In the Montague’s dark chapel, Lady Montague met with her manservant.
“Have you what I requested?” She asked, her voice cold.
“Aye mi’lady, twas na easy gettin it.” he rapsed handing her a small vial.
She quickly took the vial, inspecting the contents before slipping it up her sleeve.
“And the servants? Have they all been dismissed?” she asked.
“Yesm’.” he nodded watching her warily.
“Good, she stood and turned to him. “I would hate for any harm to come to you. I trust you will be discreet?”
“Oh…yes mi’lady.” It’s like I never was even here.
Nodding she waked to the door. “You can see yourself out.”
The servant waited a moment before exiting. The manor was eerily quiet. Going to the front door, he paused before heading in the opposite direction. The backdoor leading from the kitchens, was unlocked and he left himself out. Not looking back.

Lady Montague stood over her husbands bed. She thought back to the last month’s activities. She’d met with the priest at the tavern this week. He’d been new to the parish and she was grateful for that.
It was always a comfort to her, the church. That is until she was married. At one point she had wanted to join the church. But of course the old King would have none of that. After her father had died in the war, the King had take her, his most loyal Lords daughter into his household as his “ward”.
She nearly laughed out loud at that. The king was a lecher. He’d cheated on his wife at every opportunity. It had been a miracle she’d had any children at all, he’d so rarely spent his time with her.
Instead he’d been tupping his ward daily for months before Lord Montague’s heroism had come tyo his attention.
She’d been happy at first to have the hand of such an attentive knight. So glad to be rid of the overweight and smelly king.
She’d traded one hell for another.


Seeing the preist had been her way of making amends for her past misdeeds. She wanted to confess, but there was nothing she felt that warranted it. She’d been a good wife and Lady to her husbands home and lands. He’d been a brute and a beast. Beating her, raping her, threatening thel ives of her daughters. It was his evil deeds that had caused her to miscarry her babies.
She felt vengeance for him in her heart. She knew it was a sin. Vengeance is to be left to God. But she knew that without action, works would be dead. So she must take action so that Gods work would be done. She asked the priest if this was right. Asked him if taking action to do Gods work was wrong. When he told her it was what is required of us all, she knew than that what she had planned was right.


Leaning over her husband she placed the vial on the pillow near his head, waiting.
The small black spider ambled slowly out of the glass. It’s bright red back a warning beacon. Blowing a light breath she encouraged it out and watched as it scampered across the pillow to the warm flesh it had been denied for so long.


Turning she laced the vial down and glanced back seeing her husband watching her curiously.
“What are you doing up?” he asked suspiciously looking around.
She turned back to the small table and shrugged.
“I was looking for my medicine.” she said lifting the small vial to show him it’s emptiness.


He scanned the room with his eyes, stifling a yawn. Grunting softly he stretched his neck out and started to rise.
Quickly turning to him she asked. “Do you need something husband?”
He paused, the blanket still around his waist.
“Why are you acting so strangely?” he cast his eyes toward the door.
“I am not, I only want to please you.” she said sweetly moving away to put the vial back on the table.
Sighing he settled back down, his head pressing deeply into the pillow.
Lady Montague smiled and waited expectantly.
A moment more and she heard a strangled grunt as her husband stiffened in the bed.
“Ah gods…” she heard him whisper softly before he shuddered and than was still.


The carriage rattled out the drive and was hidden deep in the forest when the first bright orange flames brightened the horizon.
By the time the countryside was alerted to the blazing inferno of the Montague manor, the Lady had returned in her carriage a dark cloak draped around her as she watched her home go up in flames.
No one made mention of where the lady was when the blaze had started. They only noted the cold look in her eyes and the small eery smile she had when the roof collapsed.
She finally had her freedom.
She was a widow.
Like the spider she’d left upon her husbands pillow.

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