Crackfic: The Education of Walda Frey

[sternflammenden]

bela0103 prompted me to write Bethany/Walda once upon a time on tumblr. And here it is. I don't even know, guys.

Bethany Bolton/Walda Frey/Roose Bolton, a la Les liaisons dangereuses. Set in that cracky AU where Beth isn’t dead and she and Roose have Harrenhall shenanigans. This would have to be in the ASOS timeline, just before a certain wedding. Nothing more than kissing here.

“You must learn to be pleasing, but deep down, realize that you have the upper hand, and refuse to yield unless it will greatly benefit you.” Bethany realizes how absurd this concept must seem to the young girl, but it’s something that she’s always believed, something that she’s always felt in her marriage, despite her husband’s proclivities. Walda doesn’t seem to be very interested in sexual politics, so Bethany decides to shift the conversation to something a bit more immediate. “Are you a maid?” She smiles, courteously.

Walda nods, a bit apprehensive about the topic. “Lady Bolton, I’ve never…” she trails off, unsure of the proper words for such a delicate matter. Bethany Bolton, after all, is a great lady, and she’s married to one of the more powerful northern lords. It certainly wouldn’t do to offend her. The fact that she’s paying her any court at all is rather astonishing. Walda is a nobody. And a Frey.

“I understand.” Lady Bolton’s hand, lily white and weighted down with rings, sets comfortingly on her shoulder, squeezing it slightly. “Your virtue is to be commended.” There is a pregnant pause, during which Walda’s breath quickens. She is almost afraid to hear what the other woman will ask next. “Have you ever kissed anyone?” But her tone isn’t mocking. It’s merely curious.

Walda shakes her head. She’s still not comfortable discussing this. After all, she’s fat and dull and plain. Who would have tried? But Lady Bolton doesn’t seem to agree with that.

“I am surprised. You are a sweet child, and comely besides.” Her smile is warm, without a trace of irony. “Certainly there are those here for the wedding who would venture to steal one from a young girl. Don’t you think?”

Walda protests. “I wouldn’t know how, even if they did.” She blushes at her own ignorance.

Lady Bolton frowns then. “Well then. I have an idea. Perhaps I’ll teach you.” When Walda raises her eyebrows, she reassures her. “We can practice here, and no one will ever know. It will be our little secret.” She rises, placing her arm around the younger woman’s shoulders. “Why don’t we go to the bed? It will be much more comfortable.”

They sit facing each other, Walda’s face tense with concentration.

“That’s no way to start!” Lady Bolton rises, standing behind her, and begins to massage her shoulders. “You’re so tense, my dear child. How will you ever enjoy yourself if you’re tied in knots?” As she speaks in her soft, soothing voice, her hands gracefully loosen Walda’s tension and she feels her breathing slow. “Now, isn’t that better?” When Walda sighs, nodding, she whispers in her ear with just a touch of insinuation, “Of course you’re nervous, coming here on such strange pretenses. I suppose you wonder why you’re even here. That is all my husband’s doing, little Walda.”

She’s confused. “Lord Bolton?” Walda would not admit it to anyone, least of all this woman, his lady wife, but there was something about him that stuck in her mind. He wasn’t handsome or particularly charming, but there was a quiet intensity about him that rather intrigued, maybe even thrilled, her. And perhaps it was her imagination, but he’d given her several very insinuating looks the other evening when they’d been seated at the same table for the feast. He and Lady Bolton were so silent, wrapped in each other’s company, but there were times when their eyes met and she knew that she’d been caught staring.

“Indeed. Lord Bolton is quite fond of you, child. He finds you charming.” Lady Bolton’s smile is as sweet as her voice, and Walda is quite sure that she’s being honest. This isn’t the jape that she’d feared.

“He…he does? But I’m…” She can’t find the words so she finally says,”not pretty. I’m too fat.”

Lady Bolton shakes her head. “What nonsense. Roose himself said that they should call you Fair Walda. But enough of this. You are neglecting the task at hand.”

Walda sits expectantly, although something buzzes inside of her at the other woman’s words. She feels hands on her neck, her face, gently positioning her.

“Just relax. You mustn’t be tense, or it will come through in your kiss.” She strokes Walda’s cheek almost lovingly and continues. “Tilt your head a bit, just like that, and close your eyes slightly.” Lady Bolton leans in, her face inches away, and Walda can smell the lemonwater that she uses on her hair, and can feel her breath, measured and warm, on her face. “Let him kiss you first, and then once he does, you should respond.” She brushes her lips against Walda’s, barely touching her. The second time that they touch, Lady Bolton is a bit more insistent and gently probes at Walda’s lips with the tip of her tongue.

Walda was expecting that to be unpleasant, but truthfully, it isn’t. Lady Bolton, Bethany, she thinks secretly, is pretty. Her voice is kind and pleasant, and her demeanor is so calm that she feels nothing but ease, despite the admittedly bizarre situation. “Do I use my tongue too?” she blurts out, finally rediscovering her voice.

“Of course you do, sweetling. That’s the next step. Just open your mouth a bit, and tease it out. Just keep everything nice and soft and relaxed.” Lady Bolton shifts, drawing closer, and Walda can feel the warm press of her body. “Put your arms round me. That will help.” She guides Walda until they are very close, their breasts touching, and Walda is surprised to find that she enjoys this. Lady Bolton is rather enthusiastic, and her body is soft and satisfying to touch, especially in conjunction with the plushy velvet of her gown. Walda finally relaxes, and allows the other woman to kiss her. This time, she opens her mouth, and she returns Lady Bolton’s advances, at first tentatively, then as she gains more confidence, with more fervor. They part, and Walda leans forward, kissing her partner again, and she allows her hands to shift from Lady Bolton’s waist to her bosom, where she caresses a breast, cupping it in a trembling hand as she explores her mouth.

She’s surprised, almost confused, when the other woman responds, and Lady Bolton’s quick hands are on Walda’s body, in her hair, mussing the updo that she’d spent hours perfecting that morning in the mirror, stroking her shoulders and back, and reciprocating, caressing Walda’s own breasts. Before she can stop herself, Walda lets out a soft cry. She cannot help herself; it feels lovely and no one’s ever touched her there before.

Lady Bolton seems to remember herself then, and she pulls away, but gently. Her own face is flushed and her breathing is rapid. “Very good, for a first lesson,” she says, her voice a bit rough. Walda is pleased to note the shift in her composure. “I am quite impressed with you. I feel the need to reward such a talented pupil.” She bends toward her again, as if to continue, but she is interrupted by her husband’s voice.

“Bethany, what is the meaning of all this?” Lord Bolton does not sound angry; if Walda didn’t know better, she’d assume that he was amused. His tone is soft and his expression mild as he stands in the doorway. She wonders just how much he’s seen.

Lady Bolton rises, controlled once more. “Roose,” she says softly, and Walda finds the affection in her voice to be nothing but sweet. She kisses him then, and Walda notices the same gestures, the same motions, only Lady Bolton allows herself to be overcome instead of mastering the situation. He cups her waist, and Lady Bolton’s hand strokes his cheek. “I had not expected my lord husband to return so soon.”

“Obviously. You seem to be rather…occupied.” He ventured a look at the bed. “The Frey girl, I see.”

“We are in the midst of a lesson.” Her voice was coy.

He nodded, the faintest trace of a smile playing about his lips. “And is the Lady Walda a dutiful pupil?”

Walda, before she can stop herself, answers him, although she’s sure that this is not what he intended. “Quite, my lord.” She regrets it instantly, as he turns toward her, still holding Lady Bolton in his arms. She looks utterly pleased.

“Perhaps you should show me,” he says, his voice a whisper and Walda immediately understands the insinuation. Her stomach lurches with it, and her heart flutters in her chest. When he sits next to her, Bethany at his side like a dutiful shadow, Walda’s inclinations fly out the window. He may be comely, she thinks, but he’s too intimidating. She sits there, silently, staring at the floor.

“Lady Walda, it doesn’t do to keep a gentleman waiting.” Lady Bolton’s voice is gently chiding.

She has no choice. Walda allows Lord Bolton, Roose, she thinks, although she’d never dare to call him by his first name, to put his arms around her, and although he does not hold her with the ease at which he does his lady wife, it is still quite arousing to her. When she bends to kiss him, she tries to mimic his wife’s actions, and when he kisses her back, it’s far from Bethany’s earlier embraces. He’s much more forceful, and he doesn’t stop after one kiss, but continues, nipping at her lower lip until it pains her. His hands stroke her, but as their embrace intensifies, they grip her body, squeezing her almost too tightly. When they pull away, Walda’s face is burning and there is an awkward silence. Lady Bolton’s expression is inscrutable but there’s something dark there, and Lord Bolton looks dryly amused.

“My lord,” she falters, unsure of what to do. His arms are still around her.

“Lady Walda,” he whispers, kissing her forehead. “Such a plump, pretty little thing you are.”

She smiles and sits there silently as his lips meet hers again and this time, he’s much gentler.

Lady Bolton interrupts the moment. “That will do for today, don’t you think?” There is a bit of an edge in her voice that had not been there before, and Walda is pleased to note it. When Roose nods, releasing Walda, his wife immediately insinuates herself into the scene, and he pulls her close.

“Should I go?” Walda isn’t sure if she wants to though.

“You don’t need to,” Lady Bolton says. “The lesson can continue, after all.” She turns to her husband, smiling coldly. His hands are unlacing her dress.

“You may watch, if you like,” her husband continues, “and when you are ready, perhaps you may join us.”

Lady Bolton looks displeased at that.

Walda nods, willingly. She is pleased at that, and even more so thrilled by the jealousy written large on Bethany Bolton’s face. It will be a long yet educational night.

Comments

[bela0103.livejournal.com]

You know you can't complain when I stalk you right? You just keep encouraging my creepiness...This was one hell of a for play, just so you know. Jealous Bethany is funny and scary and Walda is a real Frey when she get pleased to notice Beth's edge.

[sternflammenden.livejournal.com]

But I have to promote and encourage creepiness! It's my fandom duty. :)

Anyway, I'm glad that you liked this really bizarre threesome. Walda of course has her dark side, even if it is pink and sparkly.

[bela0103.livejournal.com]

I absolutely adore Walda's creepy side. And the way Roose just have the creeps for that plumply and pinky little maiden. Bethany would be mouth foaming if she could see the contents of the mind of her lord husband.

[sternflammenden.livejournal.com]

That icon is adorable.

Bethany would just flay Roose, problem solved!

[bela0103.livejournal.com]

Bethany would flay everybody.

And I like porn. And I like Kermit. BAM! Perfect icon is perfect.

[embossedsilver.livejournal.com]

Ooh, wicked. And I improve of any inclusion of Les liaisons dangereuses.

[sternflammenden.livejournal.com]

Thanks!

I have been wanting to write something like this for a while & couldn't figure out how to.