The Fishwife
Jan. 11th, 2011 12:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
clare_dragonflyTitle: The Fishwife
Word count: 748
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: 3ww: plausible, taint, willingly
Notes: Sequel: The Mender
He always came home smelling of fish. It disgusted her, but there was nothing to be done, was there? At least he always brought a fish or two home for the table. They wouldn’t be getting much of anywhere if he didn’t. As it was, Nella still feared from time to time that they would have to end up selling their child to the Academy. She rested her hand protectively on her swelling belly and did her best to smile at her husband as he slapped two clean, gutted fish down on the table.
“There we are,” Ralen said, obviously pleased with himself. “Enough for dinner, and a little breakfast too, eh?”
“Of course,” she said, setting aside her mending and pushing herself to her feet. He ran over hastily and helped her rise to her feet. She hated being so dependent, but with her body so off-balance, she didn’t have much of a choice. She leaned on him as they walked over to the table—then stopped halfway there.
“Nella? What’s wrong?” he asked, obviously concerned. She just shook her head, unable to figure out what it was. She just knew something was off, something that threatened her.
Then it hit her. The smell.
He didn’t smell of fish today.
There was some other scent clinging to his body, something a little sweet and a little sickly and a little salty. She gathered her thoughts, trying to place it. She knew she could. She took a deep breath through her nose, and then she had it: perfume and sex. The taint of another woman. A rich woman.
She shoved him away from her and staggered back. He followed her and caught her before she backed into the wall, quicker than she was in her state. His face was all concern. “What’s wrong, love? You’re not going into labor, are you?”
Tears pricked her eyes, and the room swam before her, but she could still see well enough to land a good, solid slap on his face.
It was his turn to stagger back, his hand reaching up to his face. “What is it? I’m sorry—if I said something—I didn’t mean—what’s wrong?”
“I can smell her, Ralen,” she choked out, trying to breathe past her tears. “Don’t bother pretending.”
“Nella, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said patiently, holding his hand to his cheek. “I haven’t been with anyone.”
“Oh, that’s plausible,” she snapped. She turned toward the wall, pressing her face against it, trying still to get control over her tears, but they just kept springing up to roll down her face and drip onto her belly. She clutched at her belly, feeling as though she needed to protect her unborn child. From his own father. His cheating father. “Who is she?” she demanded of the wall, unable to face her husband. “A scholar’s wife? A whore? She must be a whore, what woman would willingly be with a man like you?”
“That’s not fair!” he protested, his voice getting deeper and more strident. “For your information, she is a merchant’s daughter. I would never—”
“Never what? Sleep with another man’s wife? What difference does it make?”
“You don’t understand,” he said pleadingly. She could feel his heat at her back. He was very close to her, but at least he wasn’t touching her. “I did it for us—for the child! She gives me money!”
“Oh, I see how it is. You’re nothing but a male whore.” Her anger giving her strength, Nella managed to turn around and shove Ralen so that he fell back into the table. One of the fish slid to the floor, but she didn’t care. “Get out.”
“What?” He shook his head to clear it, righting himself against the table. “Nella, you can’t mean it.”
“I do. I’ll manage on my own. I don’t need you or your pity.” She bent uncomfortably and slapped the fish from the floor to his chest. He managed to grab it before he let go. “If your merchant’s daughter is so generous, go find a place with her.” He just stared at her until she shouted “Get out!”
He stumbled backwards, still staring at her in confusion, until he found the door and ran out. She was glad he was gone. She didn’t need him. So why was she crumpling to the floor, sobbing and clutching at her belly like it was going to leave her too?
Word count: 748
Rating: PG-13
Prompt: 3ww: plausible, taint, willingly
Notes: Sequel: The Mender
He always came home smelling of fish. It disgusted her, but there was nothing to be done, was there? At least he always brought a fish or two home for the table. They wouldn’t be getting much of anywhere if he didn’t. As it was, Nella still feared from time to time that they would have to end up selling their child to the Academy. She rested her hand protectively on her swelling belly and did her best to smile at her husband as he slapped two clean, gutted fish down on the table.
“There we are,” Ralen said, obviously pleased with himself. “Enough for dinner, and a little breakfast too, eh?”
“Of course,” she said, setting aside her mending and pushing herself to her feet. He ran over hastily and helped her rise to her feet. She hated being so dependent, but with her body so off-balance, she didn’t have much of a choice. She leaned on him as they walked over to the table—then stopped halfway there.
“Nella? What’s wrong?” he asked, obviously concerned. She just shook her head, unable to figure out what it was. She just knew something was off, something that threatened her.
Then it hit her. The smell.
He didn’t smell of fish today.
There was some other scent clinging to his body, something a little sweet and a little sickly and a little salty. She gathered her thoughts, trying to place it. She knew she could. She took a deep breath through her nose, and then she had it: perfume and sex. The taint of another woman. A rich woman.
She shoved him away from her and staggered back. He followed her and caught her before she backed into the wall, quicker than she was in her state. His face was all concern. “What’s wrong, love? You’re not going into labor, are you?”
Tears pricked her eyes, and the room swam before her, but she could still see well enough to land a good, solid slap on his face.
It was his turn to stagger back, his hand reaching up to his face. “What is it? I’m sorry—if I said something—I didn’t mean—what’s wrong?”
“I can smell her, Ralen,” she choked out, trying to breathe past her tears. “Don’t bother pretending.”
“Nella, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said patiently, holding his hand to his cheek. “I haven’t been with anyone.”
“Oh, that’s plausible,” she snapped. She turned toward the wall, pressing her face against it, trying still to get control over her tears, but they just kept springing up to roll down her face and drip onto her belly. She clutched at her belly, feeling as though she needed to protect her unborn child. From his own father. His cheating father. “Who is she?” she demanded of the wall, unable to face her husband. “A scholar’s wife? A whore? She must be a whore, what woman would willingly be with a man like you?”
“That’s not fair!” he protested, his voice getting deeper and more strident. “For your information, she is a merchant’s daughter. I would never—”
“Never what? Sleep with another man’s wife? What difference does it make?”
“You don’t understand,” he said pleadingly. She could feel his heat at her back. He was very close to her, but at least he wasn’t touching her. “I did it for us—for the child! She gives me money!”
“Oh, I see how it is. You’re nothing but a male whore.” Her anger giving her strength, Nella managed to turn around and shove Ralen so that he fell back into the table. One of the fish slid to the floor, but she didn’t care. “Get out.”
“What?” He shook his head to clear it, righting himself against the table. “Nella, you can’t mean it.”
“I do. I’ll manage on my own. I don’t need you or your pity.” She bent uncomfortably and slapped the fish from the floor to his chest. He managed to grab it before he let go. “If your merchant’s daughter is so generous, go find a place with her.” He just stared at her until she shouted “Get out!”
He stumbled backwards, still staring at her in confusion, until he found the door and ran out. She was glad he was gone. She didn’t need him. So why was she crumpling to the floor, sobbing and clutching at her belly like it was going to leave her too?
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Date: 2011-01-11 06:04 pm (UTC)Want more, pls.
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Date: 2011-01-11 06:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-11 06:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-01-11 06:41 pm (UTC)