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The night before the Trial of the Seven, a beastly shower had suddenly began to pound the tourney grounds til just before the dawn. The next day had been dark and dismal; the ground a heavy mud, the fog a gripping mist amidst where the lists had been set up and the sky a harsh grey. It was as if it knew that the battle between a Targaryen Princes and a hedge knight would bring about a tragedy that would shock the seven kingdoms.
But whilst the realm mourned the loss of Prince Baelor, the sun had returned to Ashford. The sky shone a clear blue, and the leaves and grass were once again the crisp green of a summer's day. The edges of the camp grounds, further away from the beaten paths turned brown from hundreds of trampling boots and horseshoes, were particularly pretty as the encroaching forest burst out into the open fields.
Red - Rowan she corrected herself - was walking back to the tent she had found herself staying in the past few nights with her new husband. She'd gone to purchase needle, thread and green leather, struck by the thought earlier in the day that she could sew his new sigil onto his jerkin.
Her mother had named her Rowan many years ago, before the pox had taken her. When she had grown into a woman and she realised she could use her looks and body to make a decent living for herself, she had not wanted to use the name her mother gave her. So Rowan had chosen Red, for the fiery colour of her hair.
That way Rowan would always be the name of who she truly was, not what she had become in order to survive in a world where no one truly cared for.
Red was the name of a camp girl, following the tents of dull knights and old lords to laugh at their shit jokes and let them sate their lusts when required. She had gotten used to it.
But now she was Lady Rowan of the Green Apple Fossoways, the wife of a knight of the realm hailing from a noble house. A lady, married to a good man who looked at her as if she'd been sent by the Seven themselves.
And so Rowan she was once more.
She'd gone to see her fellow girls the day of their wedding, whilst Raymun had gone to find a Septon who'd perform the ceremony for them. In their line of work, they would hear one story out of countless others where a girl had been taken to wife by some decent man who was in need of a proper wife or willing to claim her child as his own, and even those it was rare to find that man be a knight or noble.
So when she'd told Beony and Daisy she would shortly be marrying Ser Raymun of House Fossoway, their reaction was a mixture of shock, confusion and happiness for her - after asking who Ser Raymun of House Fossoway even was. "The Apply Boy" Beony had called him.
Nevertheless, they had been quick to find her a white gown to wear for her ceremony in the Ashford sept (after making her promise they'd be a place for them once she was living in a fancy hall) and then they'd raced to where Raymun was waiting. There, her sweet husband had placed a green cloak on her, placed a kiss on her lips and took her as his lady wife.
She had never truly believed she would, but a part of her always dreamt about what it would be like to be the wife of a landed knight. Yes, she'd pitied many of them (especially the ones who were married to the type of men who sought her out) but a part of her was always envious of those women. And now Rowan was one of them.
She stroked her belly tenderly as she walked. Her mind had been at ease ever since she knew that she could have her babe in a home. Her home. A babe who would know their parents, and one day inherit their father's name and title. Maybe she would even be able to give it siblings one day.
A sudden ache to her back at the added weight she had accrued made her stop and let out a small groan.Raymun fussed over her plenty but she was still in need for further rest and relaxation in her opinion. And though she liked the dress she was wearing, but in her condition she was far more content to wear one of Raymun's larger shirts and waddle around without a care.
The crimson garment Raymun had bought for her was a far cry from the silken gowns she had been wearing whilst in the company Ser Manfred, but it was both pretty and comforting, and a fine dress for a lady. Her good fortune only grew as she found it matched well with the golden jewellery she had been sure to take with her as she left her previous encampment. Ser Manfred would not even know it was gone, she figured.
The Dondarrion heir had been neither kind nor cruel; his gout meant he was often asleep, leaving her and her fellow ladies plenty of time to simply relax and enjoy the comforts around them, and he had given her plenty of coin for her time. She even got to sit in the stands alongside nobility. But after Ser Manfred spent the half the Trial of the Seven scowling at her for daring to cheer for the hedge knight and his younger newly knighted comrade, she had known her time in his unimpressive company was over.
She would certainly not miss him.
But in their own mystical way the gods had deemed fit to smile on her, as she was immediately presented with a young comely knight in need of the soft and caring hand of a beautiful woman to tend to his wounds and comfort him after a fierce battle. And to her luck, he had been extremely receptive to her advances.
She had spied him before amidst the nightly revelry before the tourney had begun, handsome in his own way with his curly hair and wide grin, speaking easily with others as he poured them cider from an apple-marked barrel. Rowan remembered thinking to herself that he seemed far kinder than the other apple knight, a more arrogant figure who got along well with Ser Manfred to nobody's shock.
She finally had a chance to speak to him in private after witnessing the Trial of the Seven. And when he asked her name, she told him it was Rowan. Before either of them knew it they were back in his tent - where she helped him out her armour, and he helped her out of her dress.
The gods had also done their part for her by only giving Ser Raymun minor wounds, leaving him with plenty of energy left for her that night before he eventually collapsed into her own tired arms. When she next awoke, she was cradled in his arms so tenderly and gently that she knew Raymun would not be the type of man who wanted to her for one night.
Instead one night had become one lifetime.
"Do you need someone to accompany you back to your tent, my lady?" A warm and cheerful voice that had become very familiar of late came from behind her, making her smile fondly at the sound.
"You flatter me, ser." Rowan cooed with amusement. She turned around to see that her young lord husband approaching, his typical happy grin adorning his face. "But I've actually got a husband to do that. He's a knight you know."
"Then he's the luckiest knight in the realm, that's for certain." Raymun's beam back at her was full of satisfied and infectious joy. So much so that Rowan felt it it stream into her as well.
To her great luck, Rowan hadn't even had to suggest marriage after she had woken up with the young knight clutching her tight in his arms, his curly hair mingled with her own red locks, and decided in that peaceful moment she was not going to take moontea anymore. Raymun was already completely besotted with her from that first night, where she had found his sweet nature hid a passion that she had been more than happy to bring out.
She'd been smart to seek him. And whilst he had proven surprisingly skilled in bed, and an eager learner to boot, she was glad that he had a rather limited knowledge about the specifics of how a woman came with a child.
Another lesser man would not have done the right thing as he did. She could name many a noble knight or lord's son who would have called her a whore and thrown her aside. She was confident Manfred Dondarrion - a man who so enjoyed reminding her that he has a brother by marriage to the Targaryen line - would have done just so had it been his child.
But Raymun was not like them. To him it was simple: they had lay together and she was with child, and so they should be married. And so now she was Lady Rowan Fossoway.
She had made sure to show her appreciation upon their wedding night.
It was the least she could do.
"I think you preferred me wearing your tunic this morn did you not?" She couldn't resist teasing him, remembering how quick he'd sized her into a series of kisses that morning when she emerged from their tent.
Raymund limped over with a bashful chuckle and a red blush on his face. He reached up briefly to touch his side with a wince.
"Are you still in pain?" She asked in concern as she stepped forward, her eyes creasing with worry without her even thinking of doing so. She recalled the dark bruises and cuts that adorned his body.
"Just a bit sore. Your treatment has certainly helped more than any grubby old maester." He grinned, thinking of course of how she had rubbed ointment on his wounds and brought him comfort and pleasure to chase away the pain he was in.
Now close enough to touch him, Rowan leaned against him with an amused sly smile or her, and pressed her hand against his chest to rub the sore spot through his garbs.
Raymun did not possess the skill as the Targaryen princes of the Kingsguard had, but he had broken lances against them with no fear. She'd seen him knock Prince Aerion off of Ser Duncan with sword whilst at a gallop, then later unhorse his cousin and him sprawled out in the mud when the contest came to an end.
In that moment, Rowan's interest in Raymun Fossoway had gotten very high. Very high indeed.
When she had sought him out after the trial, she had sensed both an opportunity for herself to escape her predicament, but also a need in his life she could fulfill. A young knight was in need of a lady, a beauty who could warm his bed and give him heirs. And with her being young, attractive and fertile, she certainly would be able to meet those needs. So she left her moontea supply back in her old encampment and came to Raymun with all her charm.
"I am happy to be of service, husband." She purred with a smile, biting her lip teasingly as Raymuns' breath skipped a bit and his pupils widened in excitement.
He was completely wrapped around her finger, Beony had told her after meeting Raymun for the first time, and she certainly was more than happy to agree. The way he stared at her in awe even on the morning after her wedding made her feel very proud of herself.
Rowan had gotten used to how much Raymun looked at her all the time, eyes wide, tender and mesmerised. More often than they were accompanied with a dopey grin on his face as if he were realising again and again that she was real and his wife. It was certainly flattering.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down to kiss him. He was not the tallest of men in the Seven Kingdoms, but her small frame would still need to move her to the tips of her toes to press her lips to his, and he was more than eager to let her drag him down to her level to press his lips against hers for a deep kiss.
Raymun was an affectionate young man, she had found out quickly. At night he curled around her, clutching her tight against like she was a precious thing. It had taken far longer to paint his shield then it should have when he was constantly wrapping his arms around her from behind and showering her with kisses.
He was always chasing her to hold her in his arms, or seeking her lips for a kiss that she was happy to give, whether it be a passionate embrace, or a gentle press that lingered upon her.
Rowan liked those ones a lot. They were far sweeter than any she'd had since she was still a girl. She'd forgotten how nice it felt kissing someone like that. No wonder she was in such a good mood these past few days.
Raymun had soft pouty lips that eagerly responded to hers, receptive and tentative, as if he were happy to let her dictate the pace and respond with gusto however she chose. Just as they had done when Ser Duncan came by that morning, it allowed them to fall into one another and ignore the rest of the world around them.
She had never forced herself to kiss him, or struggled to enjoy his touch of her body. She was more than happy to encourage his attachment to her. He was a fine lover, eager and attentive to her needs and pleasure, and he would only grow better now he was her husband.
Her experiences in 'relationships' with men in her profession - clients would be a far better word - had been either short and dull, or games of pretence and acting with the reward of coin and gifts at the end at least. But now she was with Raymun. With Raymun it was constance and tenderness. It was completely different.
In a good way though. Definitely in a good way.
"Did you find Ser Duncan?" She asked when she finally broke off from his lips, her eyes catching sight of the sheer white coat of the horse standing behind him. She remembered he'd called it Sweetfoot before he set off and it had belonged to Ser Duncan before.
The giant young hedge knight who had gone from a penniless nobody to the talk of Ashford was a curious one. She'd not been surprised to see him at Raymuns' tent, knowing how he had become a fast friend of her new husband, but had enjoyed being shown off to him and watching slyly as Ser Duncan squirm awkwardly at the sight. He'd recognised her immediately to her amusement, but stayed quiet. She supposed it was out of a strange sense of mutual understanding
"Aye, I did. Caught him just before he was to head out. He'll be out of on the road by now I reckon. Didn't say where he was off to, but I do hope we'll cross paths again one day." Raymun told her ruefully.
"He didn't want his horse?" Her mind briefly thought to how much her new husband had spent on the animal, but Raymun had been adamant on returning Sweetfoot to her owner.
"He was happy to see her again, but said I should keep her. Reckoned she'd be happy in an apple farm than out on the road." Raymun shrugged, turning to wrap one hand around Rowan's shoulder whilst the other began to stroke Sweetfoot's mane. Raymun was the type of man who wore his heart on his sleeve for all to see, and it didn't take a noble ladies' education for Rowan to see he was
Rowan slotted in against his chest, taking the hand over her shoulder into her hands and pressing a soft kiss against the palm ."You're sad to see him go, ain't you?"
"Aye, I am." Raymun turned to her with a sigh. He smiled, but it didn't quite meet his eyes as it usually did. "He was a true knight, and the best friend I ever had. It may be some time til we next meet, so I shall miss him."
In a strange way, Rowan had the tall, gangly hedge knight to thank for her new predicament. Had he not come to Ashford and befriended, the Trial of the Seven would never have happened, and Rowan would not be wife to a knight.
She did not care to see him downhearted. It felt so wrong to her. Raymun had a merry disposition, bright and kind, and she wanted to bring it back.
"You were a good friend to him." Rowan told the young knight comfortingly, rubbing his knuckles with her thumb in soft circles and leaning her head up to press a gentle pick against his cheek. "He knew she'd be kept well under your stead I bet."
Raymun's grin in response was a lot brighter much to her satisfaction. He turned to pat the gentle palfrey on her neck
Sweetfoot's a good horse, she is" He said admiringly. "She'll make a fine ladies' mount for yourself. Good company on the road no doubt. And I wager she'll enjoy the orchards just fine once we get home."
Before Rowan had even registered that she'd just been given a horse of her own, he'd reached down into a brown bag around his waist, and pulled out an apple.
"Here, she loves apples. Don't you girl?" Taking a bite out of the apple to make it easier for the horse to chew it, Raymun cheerfully handed her the rest of the bright green fruit for her to offer to her new horse. Sweetfoot's eyes had darted towards the treat the moment it was out in the open and she huffed excitedly, stamping her hooves impatiently. "They'll be plenty of them where we're headed to, don't you worry! "
Rowan was still standing with a bemused little smile. She also thought it a bit mad to be speaking to a horse. Yet she found herself grinning as she took the apple and offered to it to Sweetfoot.
"You like that, don't you Sweetfoot?" Rowan couldn't help but ask with a laugh as the horse eagerly chewed the fruit, it's course tongue licking the remnants off of her new riders dainty hand.
She'd never had her own horse before. It was a luxury not afforded to her those in her work. But Sweetfoot and her would get along well, Rowan thought. A pair of girls who'd earned the good life awaiting them.
Raymund chuckled, parting the horse's neck as she let out a happy whinnie. "Looks like she was meant for us, don't she?"
Rowan smiled up at her husband, then suddenly realised the fruit that she had been presented. A baffled laughter escaped her before she knew it.
"Do you carry those around now?" She joked. Raymun blushed at her teasing.
"I just figured If I'm to be a Green Apple Fossoway, I ought to sport the right colour." Raymun said proudly.
Rowan had helped paint his new sigil on the newly made shield Steeley Pate and dropped off the day before, surprising him the night before with the finished work. Raymun had sweeped her off of her feet with delight and spent the rest of the night kissing her devotedly. And not just on her lips. To think he'd been a maiden on their first night together.
"Well you're certainly as sweet as an apple, but certainly not a green boy anymore." She murmured in a velvety voice. Raymun's blush and dimpled smile delighted her.
"No thanks to you." He grinned, no doubt thinking about their nights together.
His eyes glanced around her and up towards their camp, where their tent stood and his shield leaned against one of the poles. A sudden shadow flickered about his face for a moment. On another man it might not have been noticeable, but on Raymun's cheerful disposition it stood out.
"What's on your mind, husband?" Rowan found herself asking. They were supposed to be enjoying married bliss, or as close as they could get to it.
"It's nothing." Raymun averted his eyes to glance aside for a moment. A highborn lady might have let his mood fester, but Rowan would not.
"If I'm to be your wife, and you my husband, we're gona have to talk to one another. What ails you?" She reprimanded him affectionately.
Raymun sighed but turned to face her fully. "It's just...all I've offered you as my wife up till now is a measly tent."
"I know, I've been sleeping in it." Rowan joked. "What about it?"
"I've seen you around before. In the company of men fom great houses." Raymundo admitted. "Men far richer than I, with great castles and all, not cast out by their family. And those men can buy you jewels and everything you could ever want."
He looked down at her through big earnest eyes, looking not dissimilar to a sad puppy. "I really like you Rowan, and you make me happy. And I want you to be happy as my wife."
The smile dropped from her face and her eyes widened, and for a moment she didn't know what to say.
Here was this knight of a noble horse, with a courage and honour and future ahead of him, and he felt he wasn't worthy of her. Her, a woman who'd been a whore until the moment she met him. She'd been born the bastard child of a farmer's daughter and a travelling singer, and him the trueborn nephew of a lord of the Reach.
How could he feel like she could do better than him?
The realisation hit her a moment later.
He'd never looked at her at seen a whore. He'd just seen a woman.
He'd seen Rowan before he even knew her.
She shouldn't have been surprised. This was the same man who'd turned against his own kin and risked death against some of the finest warriors in the realm to defend a penniless Hedge Knight he'd met a mere days before. And all because it was the right thing to do.
Yes, she'd lay with him in order to make him marry her and take her away to a better life. Because she needed someone decent to save her. She needed him to save him.
And when she saw him, she knew he would.
Pushing herself up onto her the edges of her toes, Rowan her crashed her lips against Raymun's. He let out a gasp against her that was quick swallowed in the kiss. One of his arms reached around her waist to keep her steady as she pushed against him, whilst the other hand pressed against her belly gently and protectively.
She broke off from him a few seconds later.
"Look at me, husband." She took his chin in her hand and tilted his head to keep his eyes locked in the gaze of her her emerald eyes. "I'm still here, ain't I? You didn't see me complaining emptying out the piss pot this morning, did you?"
Yes, she'd well enjoyed the glimpses of luxury that came from being favoured by a wealthy patron. But for every day like that, she'd spent countless more with nothing to her name, wondering if she'd have enough coin to eat or find a place to sleep that night. Rowan was tough and she was smart. And se had been through enough to know that what she could have with Raymun was worth more than any favour a lord could provide her for a single knight.
"I'm more than just a pretty face, you know. Do you suppose I would have lay with you if I did not think you could take care of both myself and our babe?" She asked him stubbornly.
She traced the lines of the scars on Raymun's face gently, all whilst keeping his eyes directly in her own. She wanted him to know she cared for him; she needed him to know that a measly tent as his wife was worth more to her than any lord's coin.
"I didn't come to you because I thought you were wealthy. I came to you because I wanted to." She paused, and softened both her gaze and her words. "Because I saw that you were a good and brave knight, more than any other man who came to Ashford."
Raymun's wide eyes were locked on hers. He was listening intently as she spoke. She forgot he was so young and she was his first. And his last if she had anything to say about it.
"I saw you battle for Ser Duncan against knights of the Kingsguard, and Princes of the Realm. None of those great lords in the stands beside me had the stones to but you did." Rowan found herself getting heated defending her husband. 'And your cousin may be a lord now, but you were the one who bested that prick in the sight of all those lords and ladies. You're not a fucking disgrace, you're more of a knight than all of them."
Out of the corner of her eye, Rowan could see passers by turn towards them at the sound of her voice, but she didn't care.
"Besides, I weren't the only girl who noticed you out on the field. I wasn't going to wait for one of those highborn maidens to snatch you up, was I?" She said with a cheeky grin. Although she joked, she knew that other women had seen him in the tourney had overheard their whispers in the aftermath suggesting he would be a good match for a daughter or a sister.
One night with her and she had quickly put a stop to that.b
"I'm glad you didn't. " Raymun's smile was now so broad and giddy he was practically blinding her. "I'd choose you over any of them."
Rowan cupped his cheeks and smiled at her husband, her eyes suddenly brimming with unshed tears. "Who cares about anyone else. I'm your lady now, Ser Raymun. Your wife, whether we're in a tent or a castle, and whether I'm wearing a fancy dress or your tunic. So you'd best not be having any doubts."
Rowan knew that in a way she had been selfish in securing Raymun's hand in marriage. His family would have hoped he would he married to a highborn lady, not a whore he met at a tourney. But he was happy with her exactly as she was, and she would spend the rest of their days rewarding him for doing so.
"I've no doubts, Lady Rowan. I will look after you, you have my word. And our children. No matter what." Raymun looked up into her eyes and the fear and sadness that had shrouded his face for an instant before was long going. Now all there remained was the joyful, optimistic and loving Raymun she had begun to treasure in such a short time.
"I know you will, my sweet warrior." She uttered happily. For that is what they would be, if she had anything to say about it.
Children he said. She could see it now. She could see a whole family before them. Raymun would be an excellent father to their babies, a gift she never knew she could have.
They kissed once more. It was slower this time, deep and needy but full of brimming emotion. When they broke off at last, Rowan kept close, their forehands preseed together for a moment in a gesture so strange to her but so natural at the same time.
"I like you too, you know. And I will be very happy with you, Ser Raymun." She whispered against his lips, giggling at the way he broke out into a beam and chased her lips for more kisses.
Raymun was simple in a way, but not stupid and not a fool. He knew who she was, and why she had come to see him. And in spite of that, he chose to wed her. He had chosen to make her his wife, to be with her in the eyes of both the Gods and the entire realm, and to treat her with love and affection that she had not know before.
How could she not like him?
And in return, she would be his wife. And she would be a good wife. She would make his home a joyful one with children of their own, and bring them happiness that would spite any who would look down on them.
"I have written home to let my family know of what has gone on here. They will be happy to hear I have left my rotten cousin's skin as bruised as his core." Raymun's pride over the outcome of the trial was contagious.
He continued to chatter happily. "And imagine my mother and sisters' faces hearing I'm to return a knight of the realm and with a beautiful wife?"
"A beautiful wife, am I?" Rowan smirked. Raymun learned over and gazed at her with the wide eyed almost worshipful look he reserved just for her.
"The most beautiful I could ask for." He smiled widely and sincerely. "I could not have asked for more a more perfect wife."
Others could call her vain, but Rowan knew she was a beauty. All it took was a glance at her to see that. Most men would catch a glimpse and call her such in a way that made her skin crawl even as she hid her reaction.
The way Raymun did it made her skin glow and her heart flutter like a green maid. Daisy and Beony would be laughing their heads off to see her swooning like. The truth was there was something so endearing, honest and kind about Raymun that it brought out a side of her she had thought long gone.
"As I said, sweet as an apple." She giggled with an uncharacteristic blush as heat rushed to her cheeks. Talk about playing the part of a lady.
Except she now wasn't playing a role - she was a lady. She was his lady.
She leaned into his chest so that the side of head rested possessively against his heart, tilting to upwards to press a sweet kiss languidly against his jaw with a smile on her face reflected upon her husband's. All seemed so right with the world.
"They shall be most excited to meet you. Especially the little ones" Raymun wrapped an arm around her as they began to walk leisurely back to their encampment, his other hand leading Sweetfoot behind them.
"How many sisters do you have?" She asked.
They were her sisters now, she realised suddenly. Rowan now had sisters and a goodmother waiting to meet her.
She wondered if they looked like Raymun. Before she could help herself, she was imagining if their own children would like Raymun. The thought of little boys and girls with her emerald eyes and ref freckles, and Raymun's big toothy grin and curly hair, flashed through her mind.
"Four. And two brothers. We're a right bushel." Raymund joked happily, making her giggle again. She was already getting used to the apple talk that Fossoways seemed enjoy so much.
"That certainly bodes well for the future of our house." Rowan leaned her smaller body into his as they walked, her head slotting natureally against his chest where it belonged. "I'm certain our own orchard will bear much fruit."
It would be it two of them had anything to say about it.
"My sisters will be delighted but you. They have been eager for me to marry and give them a babe to dote on." Raymun cheerfully reassured her. It was if she had sensed the small tension of her body a moment ago. "And my mother will take you as another daughter, I'm sure of it."
She squeezed him in thanks. "And what then? What will you do now that you're a knight of your own house?"
In the early hours of the morn, whilst curled around each other in blissful rest, Raymun had spoken to her of his future. The thought of returning to Cider Hall to enjoy the hall of the Fossoways was definitely a pleasing one for her. But Rowan knew Raymun wanted more for the two of them, and had encouraged him to think bigger.
"My father used to talk of expanding the cider business beyond Cider Hall. We have castle my family holds, with land and a mill that my uncle has held since my father passed. I will write to Lord Fossoway to grant me leave to take ownership of it and to make it the seat of our house." Raymun's words filled her with excitement. They would have their own seat. She would have hall to raise her family in.
Beony had tried some of the cider brought to Ashford by the Fossoways, and told Rowan that it was best she'd ever had. When she asked Raymun if she could have some, he said that his mother had told him that women should avoid alcohol whilst with a child in case it harm the baby, but he would give her the first cup from their finest batch once their son was born.
Her mother would have adored him.
"What will your wormy cousin say about that?" Rowan asked with a knowing grin. Lord Steffon Fossoway was an arrogant prick, she thought. He'd taken their tent and cast aside his cousin to distract from the humiliation he so richly deserved. She was sure he would take Raymun's ingenuity as ungraciously as possible.
If they ever met again, she would be sure to remind him most pointedly how her husband had left him lying flat down in the mud in front of the great houses of Westeros.
"Steffon's never had an eye for the cider business, my uncle knows that. And he has always said he shall give it to me once I am at knight." Raymun spoke with determination. "Now that I am to come home knighted by Set Lyonel Baratheon himself and a victor in a the first Trial of the Seven in over a hundred years, I'm certain we shall be permitted to take over the New Barrel."
He turned to face and took her in his arms with a loving look on his face. His strong arms encircled her. She could see him so clearly in that moment; so young and innocent, but brave and true and honest.
"I promise you, Rowan, I will make a worthy home for you." He declared, and she knew in her heart that he meant it. Rowan couldn't help the smile growing on her face. She reached her hands up to cup her husband's cheeks.
"For us, Raymun. The Green Apple Fossoways." She reassured him with pride, for that was what they were. They were the start of their own noble house. A whore and an up-jumped squire would soon sit in their own hall as knight and lady. And fuck anyone who tried to stop them from being happy.
Rowan barely had time to react before Raymun had swept her close for a passionate kiss, leaving her laughing and breathless in between messy kisses. Her hands tangled in his hair. His clutched her body close. And Rowan felt really quite happy in that moment.
She definitely had not thought any of this would happen when she first arrived at Ashford. But Lady Rowan Fossoway of New Barrel was certainly not complaining now.
"We don't have to leave Ashford until the morn, do we?" Slinking backwards out of his embrace, she walked to the entrance to their tent and turned to look back at Raymun.
"No, why?" The confused smile on his face made her giggle.
"I think we should make some more memories in this tent to last us on the road, shouldn't we?" She said in a sultry whisper. With a conquettish wink and a wicked glint in her eyes, she slipped the right sleeve of her dress off over her shoulder, then turned and darted inside.
Rowan didn't have to look back to know that her Raymun would be through the flap and in her arms before she could say another word.
It had taken a long time, but the Gods were finally smiling down on Rowan.
For they had pointed her to Raymun Fossoway. And with him, there was a chance at happiness, a chance at family. And most importantly - a chance at love.