Newlyweds

Writers: AL, Vix
Date Posted: 3rd May 2008

Characters: Tanas, Marida
Description: Tanas and Marida come to their new cot after their marriage.
Location: Garnet Valley Hold
Date: month 9, day 21 of Turn 4

Marida looked around the main room of the small cot that she was to share with her new husband. It was nothing large or fancy, but she had never expected anything like that anyway. It was, however, rather drab and she wondered if Tanas would be opposed to her cheering it up a bit. She hoped not.

Tanas had entered behind her, shutting the door and immediately removing the coat that he had worn for the wedding ceremony – a new garment, a concession more to his craft than to his new bride. He carefully arranged the coat on the back of a chair before looking around him. The cot had been furnished by cast-offs from others in the Hold, kept in the storerooms and brought out as needed for those starting out in new households. He frowned slightly as he looked at his surroundings, then shrugged. "It'll do." Marida remained silent. Tanas didn't really seem happy, not with her, not with their new home. She stared down at the coat and carefully took it up. "I'll put this away for you." She said softly, her hand running along the material, admiring it. She started to turn to go to the room that would be theirs to share, stopping for a moment to stutter, "I...I never said. Well, it's lovely and...it...you looked nice in it." She flushed, then hurried into the bedroom, grateful to find a wardrobe where she could put the coat.

He blinked, startled when she first touched his jacket, barely subduing the urge to protest that she had moved his work. Still, it was a finished item, and her comment, something that he rarely heard, especially since his work with dyes seldom dealt with final project results. Perhaps it would not be so bad to have someone here, someone to clean up after him, to do those tasks that he felt took up his time so unnecessarily.

He cleared his throat. "You . . . you looked. . ." He looked at her, not exactly ugly and yet not what one would consider to be beautiful. "Nice," he finished lamely.

If she heard him, she didn't answer and disappeared into the bedroom, finding a wardrobe and hanging the coat. She closed the door, then turned around. Simple, furnished, ready for them, but there was no warmth. It was just a room. They would have to make it a home. Somehow.

Marida's hands twisted together as she left the bedroom and rejoined her new husband. She stood there, hands continuing to fidget, uncertain and nervous. "D...do you want something to eat?" Perhaps a stupid question, for they had eaten not that long prior. Still, it broke the uncomfortable silence.

He had not moved far from the door, suddenly realizing that this was his home – their home – and the two of them were expected to spend time here. Alone. "Uh. . .no." He was not hungry, but his mouth was dry. "Maybe a drink." The young woman nodded and made her way to the cupboard. "Mother said she would make sure we had enough for a couple of days...until I could get more." Indeed, the woman had been true to her word. Preserves were there along with bread, cheese, some dried meat and a couple of flasks of juice. There was even a bottle of wine. Marida hesitated and pulled it out. A red from the Vintner hall. She really knew nothing about wines, but supposed that, perhaps, her husband would like some. She took out a cup, popped the cork, poured him a glass, then took it to him.

He had been expecting water, had seldom indulged in wine, too busy with his work, but he took the cup from her and raised it to his lips, stopping before drinking and lowering it again. "You. . . you should have some as well." The young woman looked at the bottle, then to her new husband. She seemed to be thinking, as if she were wondering if his suggested was some sort of trap. Eventually, however, she took up a glass and poured herself some of the wine. When she took a sip, her eyes brightened. "This is good."

He took a sip and nodded, his expression still solemn. "It is." He pulled out a chair and sat at the small table, large enough to accommodate only the two of them, and looked around. "It's. . . plain." "Yes." Marida looked around, thinking the same thing she had thought when she had first come in. She took another sip of her wine, then remembered what she had wanted to do. "Oh...I...I have something for you." She set down her glass upon the table and moved back into the bedroom.

"Something. . .?" He puzzled over this, realizing that perhaps he should have planned a gift for her, something special. He thought quickly, wondering what he could do – what he should do – to remedy the situation.

Marida returned a moment later with a wrapped package that obviously contained something soft for it moved easily. She stopped before him and handed it to him.

He took the package and unwrapped it slowly, meticulously, folding the wrapping and setting it aside.

The contents of the package revealed simply fabric, white and undyed, ready to take on any colour that Tanas would so desire. "I...I wasn't sure what you would like." Marida explained, flushing. At the time, she though the purchase was good, but now, after actually giving it to him, she felt as if it was a silly thought. "So I thought, maybe some fabric...you could dye it whatever you wanted. Make it into whatever you wanted." Her gaze dropped as if embarrassed to meet his.

He ran his hands over the fabric, feeling the weave – a good quality and ready to accept the colors that he could mix. "It. . . it's perfect." He cleared his throat and forced a small laugh. "I. . . I had wanted to offer you something, some fabric to work, since you said that you sew a bit, but I had no idea which colors would suit you." "Oh, no, that's all right. You didn't need to." Marida's hands began to play with one another and she still did not look at him. She hadn't expected anything in return. She moved back to the table and took up her glass of wine and sipped at it, hesitant, uncertain.

Now he was at a loss – did he truly not need to give her a gift or had she felt his impulsive suggestion was an undesirable one? He sipped his wine as well, glancing toward her and then away. "So. . . this is married life." "Yes, I suppose so." It seemed so...awkward. Her parents weren't awkward. Of course, her parents had been married quite a bit longer than she had. Marida made her way back to the table and slowly sat down. "So...what..." She stopped before any other words could escape and, instead, took up her glass of wine once more and sipped at it
**Yes, what?** He thought to himself. Here they sat, barely knowing each other, not knowing what to say, what to do. In the next room of their small quarters was the bedroom, the room that they were expected to occupy together, where they were to. . .

His thoughts trailed off at the realization that he was little prepared for this experience, for married life at all. He wanted nothing more than to escape, to run to his workroom in the Hall, to work with his dyes, and to avoid this entire night. But here he was, trapped, married to this woman.

He glanced toward the small window and cleared his throat. "It's getting late." "Yes." Marida didn't follow his gaze, but held out her hand for the glass that Tanas held. "If you're finished, I'll clean up." She didn't want to think about it getting late. It would only make her more nervous. Her thoughts were similar to her husband's. They were veritable strangers, thrust together in a most intimate contract - one that neither of them had chosen. She knew she would get to know him eventually, but for the moment, things were just...just...awkward...and so very strange.

Tanas stared at her hand, puzzled as to her intentions, before her words sunk in, then handed her the glass, his fingers brushing against hers. He started at that touch, the first time he had actually touched her – unless he were to count that kiss, the slight brushing of lips that seemed to be expected during their brief wedding ceremony and that had brought sighs from their mothers. He guided his thoughts away from that. "I. . . I'm not accustomed to anyone cleaning up after me. I suppose that's an adjustment I'll need to make." Marida paused at the sink and looked back to her husband. They would both have to make adjustments. She smiled slightly, then turned and began to wash with great vigor, as if her life depended upon the cleanliness of her glasses. When she was finally done, she turned back to her husband once more, hands lacing together in the front. She regarded him for only the briefest of moments before letting her gaze drop to the floor. "Is there anything else you want?" She knew what she wanted. She wanted to crawl into the wardrobe and hide until daylight.

He found himself wishing that he knew a little more of what was to happen now – or that she had more experience to guide him. Why was she waiting for him to tell her everything? "You. . . you should get ready for bed." The young girl nodded, then disappeared into the bedroom. He would come to bed as well. He would be in the same bed. He would lie down next to her. He would...Marida forced herself not to think of it as she opened her trunk and rummaged through to find her nightgown. Upon finding it, she stripped herself of her clothes, carefully putting them away, then hurrying into her gown. She made her way to her bed and slipped under the covers. She felt like pulling them over her head and trying to hide, much like she used to do when she was young and storms had come in the night, scaring her.

He sat at the table, hearing the slight noises from the bedroom, and wondering what to do. His experience with women was more an embarrassment than something that he would want to repeat: one incident, while a senior apprentice at the Hall. Some of the other apprentices had acquired bottles of a cheap harsh brew, enough to give them courage with a young woman who worked in the kitchens, a woman slow of wit and eager with body. His own turn had been over almost before it began, and afterwards he had declined all offers to socialize with his fellow apprentices, still smarting with the jeers they had sent his way.

But that was different, or at least seemed that it should be. This girl. . . this woman was now his wife.

He realized that the bedroom was now silent, that he could not hear her moving about. Slowly, almost mechanically, he rose to his feet and started toward the door. He would do what was expected of him, and hope that all would turn out as it should.

She didn't look up as he entered the room. Marida hadn't hidden under the covers like she had wished she had. Instead, she sat there, half covered by the linens, hands clasped before her, eyes fixated on them as if they would vanish should she look elsewhere. There was a flush in her cheeks as embarrassment creeped over her and she couldn't help but wriggle a bit in her insecurity.

He glanced toward the bed and away again, unbuttoning his shirt slowly and removing it. He sat at the single chair in the room, crowded into a corner, and removed his boots, considering his stockings, and decided to leave them on his feet. He rose, glanced toward her again, then moved to turn off the light before shedding his pants and climbing beneath the covers, his body at least aware of her presence.

With a sigh he turned toward her, still feeling lost. However, someone – he had no idea who it had been – had told him that for women it was best to just do it for their first time and get it over with. It was the only advice he could recall at the moment, so it would have to do.

Last updated on the May 5th 2008

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