Maron was no humble fool, he knew the appeal he had on pretty maidens who saw him as everything they shouldn’t want packed up in a tall, handsome, scandalous package that smiled at them and uttered the pretty words they wanted to hear until they either ran back to their fathers in fear, or fell, as Kyra had, into his bed with all reservations put aside until the time came to face their consequences. Men too, seemed to like him in this way, the ones who were open to such things, of course. He supposed it had something to do with subduing and dominating a man they thought an other, an enemy, a scourge from the sea. It did not bother him either way, and he sought pleasure from wherever it was offered.
Very few offered him such pretty words in return as Kyra, who blindsided him with the use of words like beautiful that seemed to clash with every other facet of his personality, but somehow sounded true off her tongue. So beautiful she was, tiny and delicate on the outside, but so steely and thorned on the inside like a fair rose blooming through the snows of winter - such flowers did not grow in the Iron Islands, and the newness of all the she was provided great distraction from the wariness that plagued him whenever he removed himself from the languid relief of being in bed beside her.
“As long as you know that your body is your own, it matters not what these fools who your father throws at you with such poor aim think of it. How lucky I am that it is, and that you have such poor taste in men.” He laughed, cutting off any of her protests at his comment laced in sarcasm with another long, drawn out kiss. Perhaps that was a hypocritical statement from a man who had taken a salt wife but he knew such truths did not present themselves popular to these mainlander women.
He never pretended to be virtuous, but he did not advertise the specifics of what made him so wicked in the eyes of those with far more moral merit. “They will never find out from my lips that you have been here with me - I would not seek to seal your fate with loneliness now just because you believe it is what you want having seen only twenty two name days.” He chuckled, a low, fond sound. “Though do not think for a second it will be easy for me to keep my mouth shut at my pride at having earned the affections of such a woman as yourself.”
The isles were a place devoid of music and song, and as a result Maron did not enjoy such things. He did, on the other hand, think he could listen to the sighs and contented whispers that were sung from Kyra’s lips as his lips navigated passage across her skin, biting it with warmth to counter the chill of the cabin on her bare skin. He was not a particularly giving soul, but he liked that he could give her this pleasure before she entered the marriage bed of a man who may not be so attentive to her needs, who might not take as much joy as he did in seeing her skin flush pink and hearing her voice keen with desire.
“You are far too much for me to handle already, Kyra, I assure you.” Tiny as she was, and as beautiful, there was no point in denying that Maron had bargained for far less than he had got when he first met the northwoman. “When you settle your sights on another, perhaps I should breathe a sigh of relief as well as regret.” He teased, knowing she was not one to take true offence to words she knew were laced with little truth. She had, of course, heard him make far more scathing statements to those with whom she found herself entangled in conflicts she could not win alone.
Kyra prayed, to his god and to her own, that he thought as highly of himself as she did. A man as gorgeous and beautiful as he should not have to doubt himself based on the things he had done, for it was merely his way of life. Only how he was raised. Kyra knew that had she been brought up in an Iron house, where she was given the same morals that the Ironborn had, given the same means of fighting as they did, that she would probably have just as bad if not worse of a reputation than he had. If she had been gifted that power by the Drowned God, Kyra would have downed any man who looked at her with a lingering gaze that she did not fancy. Would have slaughtered anyone who twitched their nose in disgust, or disrespected her in any way. She'd have sailed across oceans just to burn villages, where she would run free through their streets, cackling out her own war call, cutting heads clean from their shoulders. She could see it, too. Envision what a wild creature of death she would be if they had remotely the same upbringing. If she wasn't given the morals of the North.
"Honestly," she mused, "I don't quite care if anyone finds out. I mean, naturally, it would not be ideal. I think my father would... Actually, have a heart attack. My sister would scold me, but she's a woman of reason and would easily be able to understand how I fell to your charms." There was a laugh that followed her words, light and airy, as she smiled. "Though I think if anyone were to find out about our adventures within this room, it would likely come from the complaints of your men. They don't seem to fancy me once I'm on this ship." She laughed, guiding her lips to place soft kisses to his jaw.
His words brought a sense of pride to her. Knowing that even he, who was meant to be all rough edges and harsh words, yet found her to be a bit more than he thought he could handle. Perhaps it was just his way of stroking her ego, to keep her calm in his arms, but she did find joy in knowing that this man still, after getting to know her so well in these days, probably couldn't call her next move. It left her feeling a sense of power that she didn't think she was capable of feeling without having her arrow pointed at the eye of a man who believed her nothing but a girl. "I think you credit me too much," She mused playfully, letting her teeth scrape the soft skin that sat on his neck, before she leaned herself away from him, lounging her body against the sheets once more.
"Perhaps that is why I was born a Northern woman. No other part of Westeros would be able to handle my attitude, other than the North, but the Iron Islands would turn me into an unstoppable creature." Her body lifted out of his arms, and she sat on her knees before him, letting the fur she'd been using as a cape rest around her hips, her hands sat underneath the warmth, soaking up the heat that came with them. Her eyes drifted around his cabin, it wasn't that she was unfamiliar with the layout or the things that sat within, but it was that she was frankly amazed by it. "If I were to grow bored of the morality that exists here on the mainland, would you allow me to stow away with you?" The question is playful, nothing but amusing. "And allow me to take out the full lengths of this anger that exists within me? There are terrible things I wish I could do... But it is my name, the honor of my father, that keeps me from doing them. If I could appear somewhere else, with a new name, a new reputation... It would no longer matter. I could burn villages to the ground, and no one would bat an eye."
The words are quiet as they fall from kiss-swollen lips, and emerald eyes dance about the cabin they laid in. Her thoughts that often kept her up on nights she wasn't within these four walls coming to light, secret fantasies of being elsewhere in the world with no care of what her actions brought back to her. Wonder of what she could actually become, should she get the chance.
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