Bound by His Oath, Episode 14

Story Content Notes: Coerced consent, violence, patriarchal societies with deeply ingrained sexism (doubly so for the Norns), a woman with her own ideas, and some on-screen sex.


“I bend knee every day to my wife.”

Almost before he stopped speaking, John yelled, “Witch!”

He whirled around to see John, with his blade out, advancing on Lady Mildthryth.

“No!” He threw himself at John, knocking his friend to the ground and the sword from his hand. Somehow, Reimund kept his own feet. Terrified of what he would need to do, Reimund drew his own sword. By the time John found his feet, Reimund’s sword was at his throat. “Stand down, Sir John.”

“She’s bewitched you, Reimund, can’t you see?”

“By the Ancestors and your oath, stand down.”

Hereweald came up beside John. For a moment Reimund feared he would need to face down both of them, but the big man grabbed John’s sword and passed it to Damian.

For a moment, he couldn’t make himself speak, couldn’t do what came next. “John. Damn it, John,” he whispered. “Sir John of Kaldon,” when he spoke again his voice was harsh and weary, “I place you under arrest for–”

“Lord Reimund.” Mildthryth interrupted him.

What now? Why now? Was his darkness not deep enough? “Yes, my lady?”

“Come here, husband.”

Reimund took a slow step back, watching John and Hereweald. John’s face was still frozen in shock, but Hereweald nodded and put a heavy hand on John’s shoulder.

Trusting Hereweald to keep John under control, Reimund slowly sheathed his sword. He turned and walked toward her, each step seeming to echo endlessly. They would see now. They would see and despise, as he despised, and he could nothing but obey for though he was close, so very close to breaking, he was not broken yet.

He knelt before her. Displaying his degradation for those he loved best to see and understand. “What is your wish, my lady?”

She was as calm and poised as if a warrior twice her size hadn’t just threatened her life, and she smiled at him. “I’m afraid I became absorbed in my embroidery.” Her voice was loud as if… as if she weren’t speaking just to him. “I’m afraid I missed part of your conversation with these good knights. Of your courtesy, did you discuss anything of import which I should know?”

He stared, unable to believe what she seemed to be telling him. But she raised her eyebrows and almost he thought he saw her wink. “Nothing.” He whispered it, barely daring to hope.

She gave the faintest nod and smiled.

He cleared his throat and spoke as loud as he could. “Nothing, my lady. You missed nothing.”

She smiled more broadly and placed a hand again on his shoulder.

Relief flooded him, taking away his strength. He bowed until his forehead nearly touched his knee. “Thank you, my lady,” he choked out.

He heard, as if from a dream, Lady Mildthryth speak again. “I hope you will forgive my inattention, sir knights. I fear it has been a long day. If you will excuse me a minute, I will summon refreshments for us. I doubt I am the only one that needs them.”

She dropped her embroidery and, ignoring the speaking tube in the corner, walked out of the room. The embroidery hoop fell within Reimund’s view and he stared for a minute. “Absorbed” indeed. He was no expert in embroidery but if she had made more than half a dozen stitches he would eat his armor.

He stood and turned back to his friends.

“I warned you once before John, against raising a hand to my wife. Believe me bewitched if you will. Scorn me as unmanned and unworthy if you will, but do not doubt how serious I am. It would break my heart to kill you, but I would shatter my heart before I betray my oath.”

For the third time, he was met with stunned silence. But this time he held firm and did not look away.

John shook his head. “Unmanned? Unworthy? You were the best of us, how could you even think–”

Reimund laughed bitterly. “Yes, I was the best of you. What am I now? Do you think I don’t feel the shame of it? That I go out there,” he swept a hand towards the door, “where I am ‘my lorded’ and deferred to and know it is all a sham? Do you think it doesn’t pain me every time I kneel to her? There are jokes about men who are ruled by their wives, and I’ve heard each of you make them. Just as I have made them.

“I wish I were bewitched.” The last words slipped out before he could call them back. Tears dripped down his cheeks, his mask shattered beyond repair. “How could I not think you would despise what I have become? Darkness knows, I despise myself enough for all of you.”

“Why?” Damian blurted out. “If you hate it this much, why would you do such a thing?”

He closed his eyes and again dropped his head. “I told John that she was in a position to set demands upon our marriage, and knew it… I just… never told any of you what her greatest demand was.

“If it was just myself, I might have refused and hoped for ransom. I don’t know. But I couldn’t risk your lives on the chance of my father’s generosity.”

He shook his head. “The why doesn’t matter. This is my life now, and if you continued to serve me, then your service will be to her.”

John was turning purple. “You thought…” he finally took his sword back from Damian and resheathed it. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so insulted in my life.”

It hurt, even more than Reimund expected, but he stood firm. “If the insult is too great for you to bear, then I will release you from my service and you need not concern yourself with me further.”

“You benighted fool.” Suddenly, John was upon him, pulling him into a great hug. “You think I care about that? I can’t believe you thought we would abandon you. Especially after you tell us something like this!”

A hand on his shoulder and Hereweald said, “John’s right. You are our lord and we’ve worked and waited years to serve you as such. And to endure this for our sake? You are more a man, more a lord, than anyone I have ever known.”

Damian said nothing, but his hand rested on Reimund’s other shoulder.

For the first time in his memory, he broke down and wept like a child. But here and now, with these men, his men, he felt no shame in it.


See Reimund? Talking works. (Enjoy your friends’ support — you’ve earned it.)

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Bound By his Oath, Ep 1
Bound by His Oath, Ep 13

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Bound by His Oath, EP 15

Bound by His Oath, Episode 13

Story Content Notes: Coerced consent, violence, patriarchal societies with deeply ingrained sexism (doubly so for the Norns), a woman with her own ideas, and some on-screen sex.

Mildthryth had ample opportunity to regret her poorly chosen words.

It had created a strain between them that she didn’t know how to fix. Especially when Reimund avoided her as much as possible. Including sending several rather flimsy excuses for not coming to see her in the evening the last several days. When he couldn’t avoid her, he continued to hide his feelings behind that damn Nornish mask.

She was on the tower walk, brooding, when a throat cleared behind her. She turned to find Sir Hereweald waiting at the top of the stairs.

“Pardon the interruption, my lady. I was hoping to find Lord Reimund with you.”

“No pardon needed, Sir Hereweald.” And she would not shun the opportunity. “I’m afraid I don’t know what his plans for this afternoon were.

“But tell me, have you spent time with Lord Reimund recently?”

“No, milady.” Sir Hereweald had spent little time in Lady Mildthryth’s company. But he considered himself a good judge of character, and for all her strange ways Lady Mildthryth did seem to care about Reimund. So he took a chance. “My lord has been… very busy of late.”

“Ah. I have been… concerned. As you say he has been… very busy.” Mildthryth and Hereweald shared a look, joined in their mutual concern. “If you do find him…”

The knight gave a courtly bow. “Shall I let him know you wish to speak with him?”

“I… Yes, that may be best.”

Reimund wearily climbed the stairs to end his day by reporting to his lady-wife. He had always counted himself a strong man, but he was being sorely tested. Like a man who stood sentry too long, he was losing his edge, getting worn down from the constant strain. And now to have his friends carrying orders from his wife… friends who would scorn him if they knew the truth.

He opened the door and slipped inside. Lady Mildthryth was working on some piece of embroidery.

“How went your day, my lord?”

She couldn’t even bother to look at him.

“Don’t call me that!” he snapped.

He cursed himself as she looked up. Seeming more confused than angry. “What?”

He grabbed hold of his temper, but with temper restrained he had no mask for his pain.

“Please, my lady,” he cringed as his voice broke, as it hadn’t since he was a stripling. “In public, we must play our roles, but here?” the words poured out past his ability to stop. “We both know I am no lord to you. Of your mercy lady, do not mock me so. Better to say I am your servant. Or your dog.” He ended on a bitter whisper, shamed past bearing by his loss of control.

He turned to flee, but before he could open the door her voice rang out. “Stop.”

Almost he kept going. But he held to honor by a thread.

Mildthryth stood and walked over to her husband. For once, he wore an actual expression. For once, he told her what he was thinking, what he was feeling. And she had not the first clue what to do.

His face was turned away, his hand still gripping the door handle until his knuckles turned white. As if he was still on the edge of running. How had she broken him this badly, brought him to the point of abandoning his honor, and not known it? She laid a hand on his shoulder and found he was shaking.

“Reimund, I swear by the Ancestors, I intend no mockery.”

He turned to look at her, tears gathered in his eyes, though not yet falling.

“By the dark, I wish you would do this more often. Then maybe I’d have some idea what was going on.”

He laughed harshly. “Does it please you for me to shame myself, my lady?”

“No. It pleases me for you to express yourself. To tell me what you are thinking and feeling. I have no idea what is going on right now except that you are upset. You are my husband, lord to my lady. How is this mockery? Servant, yes, if you wish to see it so. I forced that oath on you. But dog? What have I done that you would think such a thing?”

“I come at your call, sit at your feet, speak on your command. When you are pleased with me you even pat my head. In what way am I not your dog?”

“Reimund…” She reached for him, but he stepped away.

“Don’t. Of your mercy lady, don’t.”

She stopped. Bewildered. “Is this why you have been avoiding me? Avoiding your friends?”

For a long moment, he said nothing, then he laughed again. “You will have the last bit of me, then. Destroy even the dregs…

“Yes, my lady, this is why I avoid them. I cannot stand to lie to them and cannot face how they would scorn me if they knew the truth.”

“Scorn you?” There was something here. Like when her mother forced them to confront each other those weeks ago, something that she was missing. And perhaps something he was missing as well. She could feel it there, the edges of it. But not understand it.

Picking her words with the care she started with what seemed to her to be obvious. “Reimund, whatever else may be between us, you are my husband. Any who would scorn you, for any reason, has no place in this keep.

“Send for your friends. I think they will prove true friends to you, but if not? Then best you know sooner.”

“My lady…”

“Send for them, husband. This, at least, we can solve tonight.”

Reimund bowed and stepped into her sunroom. Her maid waited there, he was able to send her to find and summon the knights. The maid left quickly and Reimund took a few moments to brace himself for what was to come.

When he stepped back in, Mildthryth was waiting patiently, once again working on her embroidery. “My lady… what did you mean… that you wish I would express myself more?”

She took a startled breath, wondering if she was not the only one groping in the dark for understanding.

“Do you remember when my mother forced us to speak on the tower walk?”

“I will not soon forget, my lady. Neither that conversation nor what came after.” Her heart lifted to see a faint smile on his face.

“You seem to have some… Nornish belief that it is shameful to show your feelings. You do not tell me when something bothers you. You seem to wear a mask, always calm, always polite.

“I know this was not the marriage either of us expected. But I’ve come to care for you. I want you to be happy with me. To be… to be a partner to me. How can I help, how can I provide for you as I swore to, if I don’t know when something is wrong?”

He blinked. “I… had not thought of it that way. I am used to court, where manipulation and intrigue make it dangerous to show your true face. I have, indeed, masked myself for most of my life. I don’t know if I can stop. But… I will try.

“I have come to care for you also, my lady.”

Reimund stared out the window and listened to Lady Mildthryth pace. He recognized her pacing as a sign that she was thinking deeply. And that opened up the understanding of why she was so frustrated with his mask. Why his hard-won control was doing him more harm than good with his lady wife. It was time to relax that control.

A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. “Come,” Mildthryth said. Hereweald entered, followed by John and Damian.

“My lord,” John, as he frequently did, spoke for them. “Is something wrong?”

Of course, they worried. He had never brought them into these private rooms, always going to them and keeping a distance between them and Mildthryth.

“No,” Reimund made himself say. He glanced at Lady Mildthryth, but she simply nodded, leaving the conversation to him. “Everything is alright… For now, at least.” He took a breath. “I have something I need to tell you, but it must not go beyond this room.”

The three exchanged glances, “Is it the king?”

“No.”

“Of course, if you wish it kept private.” The other’s murmured agreement.

Reimund shook his head. “Your oaths. That even if you choose to… leave my service you will never speak of this.”

That stopped them. John clenching his sword hilt, probably angry at the implied insult. Hereweald even blander than usual. Damian simply wide-eyed in shock.

Mildthryth stopped her pacing and came to rest a hand on his shoulder, as she had earlier during his… episode. “You should know,” she said, “That it was my wish to keep this matter hidden. I fear the… king’s reaction should he learn of it. But it has weighed on Lord Reimund to keep it from you, and as he trusts you, I will trust you.”

She stepped back and seated herself, picking at her embroidery, giving them the illusion of privacy, if not it’s reality.

Hereweald came and knelt before him. “Lord, I swear by the Ancestors I will keep your secrets unto my death.”

A moment later the others were beside him, swearing likewise.

“Thank you, my friends.”

For a moment, no one moved.

Damian popped to his feet and smacked Reimund’s shoulder. “And now that you’ve scared us all half to death—oh, and insulted John’s ever-fragile honor—tell us what by the dark is going on. What could shake you so?”

He licked his lips and decided that sometimes the suicidal charge had its virtues.

“I do not rule here. Before our wedding, I took Lady Mildthryth as my liege and I renewed that oath after we were wed.” He turned away, unable to bear watching their shock turn to disgust. “I bend knee every day to my wife.”


Breathe Reimund, you’ll get through this.

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Bound By His Oath, Ep 1
Bound by His Oath, Ep 12

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Bound by His Oath, Ep 14