Chapter 3 in my answer to the “guy has umpteen wives” trope
Find Chapter 1 here
Chapter 2 is here.

Onter led him down a low ramp into a part of the house that seemed to be cut into the bedrock. It was cooler down here, and the floors were softly carpeted. “You practice?” he asked, not unkindly.

“Sir?”

“Kiddo, down here is husbands’ territory. I’m Onter and you’re Feltian… Fell, probably. It’ll give you time to get used to the new name.”

“Yes, Onter.” That’s how his mother’s husbands had been, but Sefton hadn’t known… well, now he knew.

“So. You practice the all-fours?”

“Oh.” He ducked his head and shrugged, strange as that felt in this position. “Yeah. Didn’t want to look like an idiot.”

“You don’t have to put on a show for us. Still, smart. You didn’t balk, you didn’t freeze up and you didn’t trip.”

Sefton risked peeking up at Onter. “Did you…?”

“I froze up. I knew what was coming, and I still froze up.” He gestured behind him.

“I tripped.” The feet Sefton knew belonged to Second-Husband came into view. “I’m Calum. Don’t ask me how I tripped on all fours, but I managed it. I thought she was going to send me back.”

“Nah, she likes your pretty face too much,” Onter teased. “Almost there, Fell, few more feet.”

Sefton moved forward a few more feet. He wanted to ask, but he couldn’t seem to bring himself to.

“Onter’s too polite to say it.” The voice was lower than the others; he remembered the way he’d sounded like he was smirking when he talked about obedience. “I’m Jaco. ‘Balked’ is putting it mildly.”

“Stand up, kiddo,” Onter added. “Here.” A strong hand caught Sefton’s bicep and helped him upwards. “You’re in husbands’ territory,” he repeated. “If our Lady comes down here, then you kneel. But this is where we can relax a bit.”

Sefton found his feet but kept looking at the floor. Onter was being friendly now, but Sefton had been respectful, well within the rules. He wasn’t ready to find out quite yet what happened when he wasn’t.

Jaco laughed. “This one’s not going to fight the chains. He’s scared of you, Onter.”

“Might do you some good to be scared,” Onter answered mildly.

“Ha. Not me, no.” He punched Sefton lightly in the arm, his chains jingling. His hands were shackled, too, Sefton noticed, although with a decent length between them and his chain belt — enough to punch with, at least. “Don’t worry about me, kiddo, I’m a cautionary tale, not a prophecy for you. Like I said. I don’t want to be here.” He made his chains jingle. “And I don’t give in easy.”

Sefton looked at him. He was handsome, sharply so, with a body that looked carved out of stone, wearing nothing but a pair of wrap pants and his chains. “I don’t think any of us were volunteers,” he offered cautiously.

Jaco snorted. “No. Of course we weren’t. Who ever heard of a husband volunteering?”

“Well… love matches?” He offered it cautiously. Jaco might be… interesting, but he still outranked Sefton.

“Hrphf. All right, so, yeah. Sometimes first husbands, second husbands, maybe. But us? Nah. None of us picked to be here.”

“Exactly.” Calum set a hand on Sefton’s shoulder. “Don’t listen to Jaco too much; he’ll get you all mixed up. Come on, kiddo, we’re almost done with all the ceremony, and then you’ll have a little time to get settled in.”

Sefton’s eyes went to the chains on Jaco. Ceremony. He nodded, his mouth dry again.

“Good. This way.” Calum and Onter steered Sefton, one on either side of him, into a small room. The light was bright in here, the view a nice one over the ocean, but it was clearly a room with very few purposes.

Sefton didn’t have to be told what to do. There was a low stool; he knelt on it. His family’s house had a room like this, too. His fathers had called it The Obedience Room; among themselves, the boys of the family had joked it was more like the Disobedience Room..

He hadn’t seen Jaco come in, but Jaco set a hand on his shoulder to steady him anyway. “If you’re not an idiot like me,” he murmured, quietly enough that the others could pretend not to hear, “the chains won’t last long. So don’t be an idiot, okay?”

Sefton couldn’t quite talk around the lump in his throat, but he nodded, barely a twitch of his head, but he thought it would be enough.

This part they did without words. First, Onter shaped light metal cuffs to Sefton’s wrists and ankles. Those would remain as long as as he was married to Lady Taisiya, longer than that, if her will dictated so and he outlived her. Then there was a chain belt around his waist — Jaco and Callum still wore one of those, but Onter did not. None of Sefton’s mother’s husbands had, but he could see from looking at Jaco what it was for.

Sefton held as still as he could. He wasn’t going to be Jaco, still in chains years later. He wasn’t going to fight it.

He eyed Jaco, curious and hoping for distraction, while Calum and Onter attached the chain to one wrist shackle, ran it through the loop on his new belt, and attached it to the other shackle. “Why?” he asked, almost a whisper. “I mean…”

“I don’t want her thinking that I like it,” Jaco answered softly. “I mean, don’t get to thinking you should emulate me or anything — you’ll be a lot happier if you can be a good husband and do what you’re told. But I can’t. I didn’t want the deal that brought me here; I think it was a lousy idea for my family and a worse idea for me.”

Sefton’s eyes widened. You weren’t supposed to say that, my family. Your family was your wife’s household, not the people who raised you.

Jaco patted his shoulder again. “Yeah,” he answered quietly, although Sefton hadn’t said anything. “Like I said, I’m the big story of what not to do.” He jerked his shoulders. “She’s not a bad wife, as far as things go. Onter and Callum will tell you that they’re happy with her, and who am I to say if they’re telling the truth or lying to themselves? You’re gonna be fine, kid. Keep your head down and don’t swear at the lady, and you’ll be fine.”

Sefton swallowed and ducked his head. The chains were all attached now, and they jingled quietly when he twitched. “Sure…”

Onter chuckled. “You know, Feltian, Jaco’s right. He’s a really good example of what not to do, and as long as you stick with that, you’ll be fine. Tay — Lady Taisiya — she’s pretty easy to get along with.” He gave the chain between Sefton’s wrists a little tug. “Come on. I’ll show you your bunk, and then you can see the nursery.”

Next: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1156617.html

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Chapter 2 in my answer to the “guy has umpteen wives” trope
Find Chapter 1 here.

Lady Taisiya’s estate sat between Sefton’s parents’ estate and the sea. This put it in a prime spot – a bargaining position his mother and her husbands had spoken of when they thought younger ears weren’t listening. It was shorter and squatter than the place Sefton had called home. Sefton looked over the whitewashed walls and the way it seemed to stretch out over the sandy grass. It was different, but it might be lovely.

Sefton had only a moment to look at it before his Lady — his new wife, his new minder, until he or she died — was steering him towards the front door. “You know what you must do?” she murmured, softly enough that no-one else could possibly overhear.

He was grateful for that. The next part, he had been told by all of his mother’s husbands, was hard. It was harder, he’d been told, the younger you were, and the more junior you were. Sefton could not imagine it being more difficult than the terror he felt right now. Still, if Lady Taisiya had needed to force him or even guide him through the motions, he might not have born to look at his co-husbands.

“I know, my lady.” He pitched his voice as softly as she had. Then they were at the threshold and there was no time for more words.

She stripped off his wedding robes — made easy to remove for just this purpose — and gave him a gentle push towards the door. Sefton swallowed and dropped to his knees.

“Keep your head down.” his father had told him; ““Keep your back straight. And keep moving until you are told to stop.”

It was easy to have heard. It was a lot harder to crawl, one hand in front of the other, one knee in front of the other, naked, across the stone tile that made up Lady Taisiya’s entryway. It was harder when he could see the feet, one bare pair after another, the first one with the chains no more than decorative shackles not linked together.

Lady Taisiya had paced him, even with pausing to take off her own boots and wash her feet by the door. Now she took her place to the left of her first husband. “Into our home you come, Feltian, now of Stonewall.” Three more voices joined hers, deep and resonant. “Part of our home you become.”

He bent his head over her feet. Now it was required that he speak. His throat was dry and felt tight and clogged. “Into your house I come. Part of Stonewall I become.” He put his lips to her feet.

She rested her hand on his head. “Junior you come in, as each new husband joins us. Will you obey, Feltian-Husband?”

“I will obey.”

He moved through the ritual, crawling down the line to each husband in turn. When he reached Lady Taisiya’s third husband, he was startled to see that his shackles were still linked with chain.

Sefton swallowed. Lady Taisiya had last married more than three years ago. He fought his way through the lines, noticing with some panic how amused this man sounded when he asked if Sefton would obey.

He had no choice, not really. He couldn’t go back. He couldn’t fight back. Men who fought back… well, bad things happened. He’d heard stories, although none of his mother’s husbands had ever fought.

“I will obey,” he agreed, and touched his forehead to the floor.

“Onter, take Feltian to his room. Welcome him to the family and prepare him for me.”

“Yes, Wife Taisiya.” His voice was deep, and it had the stilted sound of people who only speak formally in the middle of ceremonies. Sefton held still. He hadn’t been told to move yet.

“Come, Feltian. We will prepare you.”

That was the end of the ceremonial words. After this, all Sefton knew is that he was to follow Onter. He swallowed and hurried along on all fours after his new brother-husbands.

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1139741.html. You can comment here or there.

This is my answer – or the beginnings of one – to the “guy has umpteen wives” trope.

Sefton was beyond nervous as his parents led him down the path to his bride, but he kept his chin up and smiled as if this was the best idea in the world.

Taisiya of Stonewall had three husbands already and six children, the oldest of which had been in classes with Sefton. At least he wouldn’t have to look Isham in the eye; he’d been part of the three-way trade that had ended up with Sefton bare-footed in the grass and Taisiya waiting at the pillar.

His parents’ hands were firm on his elbows, and behind him his mother’s second and fourth husbands marched quietly. He could no more run away than if they had already put chains on him.

But he would not. That would have been shameful and ridiculous, and, above all, it would have been futile. So he knelt at the appointed spot, his best outfit dampening with the dew still fresh on the grass. “Lady Taisiya. I come to you.”

Those were his only words. The rest came between the lady and his mother, with his father and his mother’s other husbands saying only the few words they were needed for.

Everyone understood that this was a contract. First marriages might be for love. Late-marriages, too, past the age of children or war. Sefton had never even met Taisiya before; there was nothing of love about this arrangement. This was for deals between houses and connections, for his mother’s fifth husband, for a trade arrangement that would strengthen the three houses involved and their constituencies against the [] to the north and the [2] to the west.

Sefton pressed his forehead to the ground and considered meditations on obedience.

“Rise as Feltian of Stonwall.” The words had been said between the interested parties. Lady Taisiya reached down — there was symbolism there, in that she would always be reaching down for him, and guided Sefton to his feet. She was, he was surprised to find, smiling. “Welcome to my House.”

Sefton stole a final glance at his mother and father, at his second-father and fourth-father. Only Safion, for whom he’d been named, met his eyes. His second-father winked at him before lowering his own head, a playful smirk still dancing on his lips.

It was far too late to back out, even if backing out had ever been an option. Sefton let his new wife lead him from the hilltop down into the waiting carriage.

There was a kneeler inside the carriage, and a man he thought was probably Lady Taisiya’s second husband sitting in the driver’s seat. The Lady took her seat, and Sefton knelt by her side before he had to be told to.

She said nothing to the driver, not he to her, but simply clucked to the horses. The carriage moved away from the boundary between Stonewall and Sefton’s home. He stared at the wooden floorboards, at the soft velvet edge of the kneeler, at his knees, barely hidden behind white linen.

“Stonewall is not so far from your childhood home.” Her voice was soft. Sefton peeked up at her guiltily; had he spoken aloud?

She smiled at him, as gently as she’d spoken. “It was only a week ago I took my oldest to another hill. He was nervous then. I can’t imagine you wouldn’t be just as nervous.”

“I do my duty, mistress,” Sefton murmured.

“I am Taisiya,” she corrected — her voice was no less gentle, but it was still very clearly a correction. “I am your lady wife in public — but my husbands call me Taisiya. Do you understand, Feltian?”

Sefton swallowed. She hadn’t had to change his name. Not everyone did. His mother didn’t, as far as he knew. Now he would have to learn a new name, in addition to everything else new. And her name as well. “Yes, mis… yes, Taisiya. I understand.”

“It’s all right to be nervous. I was nervous, the first time I wed. And the second,” she added wryly.

Sefton peeked at her. “Nervous?” He had never heard of women being nervous at their weddings!

“Oh, terrified. My first husband, he was much older than I was, and he had lost his entire family. I was barely older than you are now, and I was meant to be Honored Wife over a man who could have been my grandfather.” She wrinkled her nose, and then let the expression slide into a wistful smile. “We became friends, eventually. It was he who found my second husband.”

“Onter?” He had met Lady Taisiya’s husbands — in the marketplace, or running errands, and in the fields at harvest-time when everyone worked.

“No.” Now she looked sad. “Diafel. He died when the raiders attacked, twelve years past. He was a good man, and a kind man, once we got used to each other.”

Her expressions shifted again, like a fickle wind, and now she smiled, if not too broadly. “You and I will get used to each other, too, you know. It’s not a death sentence, to be married.”

It’s not being married I’m worried about. Sefton nodded slowly. “I know… Taisiya. I am not frightened.”

“You are, and I’d rather you not lie to me.” Her hand settled gently on the back of his neck. “You are being sent away from home, to be fourth husband to a woman who has a son your age. It can’t be easy… every boy I’ve ever known dreams of being a love-match, a first husband to a woman his age, growing old together. Most boys dream of being an only husband, a strong protector like they do it in the mountains. It’s okay to have those dreams.”

“They don’t matter, though.” She’d hit too close to the mark, and he found himself sounding bitter.

“Nonsense. They matter because they are part of what makes you a person. They are part of what drives you.”

Sefton swallowed. “You… you care what makes me a person?” It seemed a foolish thing to say to his new wife, but he seemed to have forgotten all his manners.

“I do care. You are to be my husband, after all, father of my children.” She squeezed gently, her calloused fingers pressing into his neck. “We’re nearly there, Feltian. Are you ready?”

He couldn’t duck his head; he could barely move at all. “I’m…” no, I’m not wasn’t an answer. He searched for another one. “I will do my duty, Taisiya.”

“I know. They told me you were dutiful.” He couldn’t look away, so he saw her amused smirk. “It is good to be dutiful. In the end, I believe you will find I am much more interested in the things they were trying so hard not to tell me.”

There was nothing to say to that, so Sefton waited, his eyes downcast and his neck pressed into his new wife’s hand. He would be a good husband… no matter what his parents had hidden from his new wife.

Chapter 2: http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1139741.html

This entry was originally posted at http://aldersprig.dreamwidth.org/1127802.html. You can comment here or there.