Win an argument at any cost

The lutenist, with a finely crafted lute, gently strokes the strings with the tips of her fingers as she listens to the faint music drifting through the air from the main hall. So familiar and yet so foreign...she could have never imagined finding herself here. She remembered the last time she heard this tune playing on the radio by some popular musician in the future world where she used to be living in as a middle-aged man with a typical family and life. She used to like to go home after a hard day at work and turn on this, or rather a song with a similar tune, at full volume and...

Her heart sank suddenly as she realized what this meant! She gulped and looked down at the flowers she was still holding in her hand. Her heart beat a little faster as she thought that her husband must have arranged for this song to be played! Her throat was getting tight. At that moment, more than ever before, she wanted to disappear, to fall through the ground, and best of all, although it seemed impossible now, to return to her own time.

Why? Why was she so stubborn when she was still a man and argued with his wife? Why didn't he calm down then and let the argument go? But no, he had to push it, insisting that women, especially those in the past, had it so much easier, especially noblewomen. He had laughed at the idea that they ever truly faced hardship, claiming that they were pampered, protected, and never had to deal with the real struggles of life. And now, because of that foolishness, here he was, trapped in a medieval life as a noblewoman.

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching. She quickly looked up to see her husband approaching her. Her throat tightened as he looked down at her with a commanding gaze that made her skin crawl.

"Do you find the music to your liking?" he asked in an icy tone. It was more of a rhetorical question, the kind that didn’t really need an answer. "I had it arranged especially for you."

She nodded, unable to find her voice. Her heart was still racing, and she could feel her hands beginning to tremble slightly. The flowers in her grasp suddenly felt heavy, like a burden rather than a gift.

He moved closer and slowly reached out and ran his fingers through her hair. "You are silent, my lady. Does the gesture not please you?" His voice was cold, but there was a hint of something else behind it—something dark and dangerous. And she realized that she needed to answer.

"It... it pleases me, my lord." She said quietly as her husband continued to gently caress her hair, causing her to blush slightly at his touch. She know what this means but didn't want to admit it, or even think about it.

Without another word, he moved even closer, his presence overwhelming. He took a seat beside her on the ornate bench, his hand still tangled in her hair. Slowly and without saying anything he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers. Her eyes went wide, but she couldn't deny him, for it was his right as her husband, and her master. Here she had no right to divorce. The best she could get was a monastery, where it would be even worse. But even that option was unlikely; most likely, if she behaved badly, she would face consequences far worse than a life of isolation in a monastery. The thought sent a chill down her spine as his lips pressed more deeply against her mouth, his tongue darting out to taste her own. She felt herself like some doll or thing.

When kiss ends, he leaned back a little, studying her with his piercing blue eyes, as if evaluating her. "You understand your duties, don't you, my lady?" he whispered, his voice low and edged with a warning. He paused while he waited for a reply, his eyes fixed on hers as he tightened his hand in her hair.

"Y-yes, my lord." She swallowed hard, unable to look away. "I... I do." The words came out as a whisper, barely audible even to her own ears, caused her husband's mouth to spread in a satisfied smile.

"Women like you, noble women, have no problems in life. They are only to be envied," he said, with a strange emphasis on "you," as if referring to her life as a man before her transformation. She quickly turned to him with her big eyes with hope to escape from here and go back to the future.

"You...you know who I really am?" She whispered, not sure whether he could even understand her, or whether she should even be asking this question at all. But to her surprise, he gave her a quick, affirmative nod, which made her heart skip a beat.

"You are daughter of a duke of a noble house." He replied with a chuckle and and she literally heard how hope was shattered by his words, filling the room with the sound of broken pieces of her last chance to return to the future and live her old life back. "Just a simple girl who could have been some kind of milkmaid, but look where you are! Now, you will be a mother of my children!"

She gulped at hearing those words and closed her eyes, trying to keep calm.

"You're not happy?!" he suddenly raised his voice.

She opened her eyes in horror to see her husband looking down on her with eyes that made her skin crawl.

"Answer me," he demanded.

"N-no, my lord," she whispered, her voice trembling with fear and apprehension. "I-I mean...yes, my lord. I understand what is expected of me tonight. And I...I will try to please you in any way possible." She hung her head as she uttered the last words, hating herself for her weakness, but knowing there was nothing else she could say or do to change the situation she was now in.

"Good." He leaned down and kissed her forehead. "You're a smart girl, you're pretty and your eyes are really pretty, and now, I want you to look at me and give me a smile."

She lifted her head, meeting her husband's eyes with her own and forced a weak smile on her lips. "Thank you, my lord."