Really, Fearghus. You need to stop asking me to let you kill our family.
G.A. AikenTake deep slow breaths,” it told her. “It will calm you.”
Calm her? Slow breaths? Instead she sucked in a breath to tell it to
go to hell, but ended up sending her late-night snack spewing across the
dragon’s foot.
Staring down, it muttered, “Oh, that’s just vile.”
Talaith’s eyes narrowed and suddenly she found her voice. “And yet, I
feel remarkably better,” she sneered.
How long should a dragon of my stature be expected to survive without a warm, willing pussy at my disposal?
G.A. AikenNow. Now, Annwyl. No need to curtsy. A simple nod of your head and absolute worship will be more than enough.
G.A. AikenTags: modesty
And then what are your plans?”
Annwyl frowned. “My plans?”
“Yes. Your plans. You take your brother’s head, your troops are waiting. What is the next thing that you do?”
Annwyl just stared at him. He realized in that instant that the girl had no plans. None. No grand schemes of controlling the world. No plots to destroy any other empires. Not even the plan to have a celebratory dinner.
“Annwyl, you’ll be queen. You’ll have to do something.”
“But I don’t want to be queen.” Her body shook with panic, and he could hear it in her voice.
“You take his head, you’ll have little choice.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do as queen?”
“Well . .you could try ruling.”
“That sounds awfully complicated.
Tags: plans after-the-fight ruling
Dagmar knew there were worse things in this world than pretending to be a caring, demure woman. For instance, actually being a caring, demure woman.
G.A. AikenTags: demure traditional-female-roles
I already explained this. I don’t like you. True, I don’t like most people, but I especially dislike you. I could start my own religion based on how much I dislike you.
G.A. AikenAre you in great physical pain, or is that your thinking expression?
G.A. AikenTags: thinking insults put-downs
This wasn’t what she expected. Never, in her wildest dreams. This... this was the Blood Queen of Garbhán Isle? Scourge of the Madron lands? Destroyer of Villages? Demon Killer of Women and Children? She who had blood pacts with the darkest of gods? This was Annwyl the Bloody?
Talaith watched, fascinated, as Annwyl held onto Morfyd the Witch’s wrists. Morfyd — the Black Witch of Despair, Killer of the Innocent, Annihilator of Souls, and all around Mad Witch of Garbhán Isle or so she was called on the Madron lands — had actually tried to sneak up on Annwyl to put ointment on the nasty wound the queen had across her face. But as soon as the warrior saw her, she squealed and grabbed hold of her. Now Annwyl lay on her back, Morfyd over her, trying her best to get Annwyl to stop being a ten year old.
“If you just let me—”
“No! Get that centaur shit away from me, you demon bitch!”
“Annwyl, I’m not letting you go home to my brother looking like that. You look horrific.”
“He’ll have to love me in spite of it. Now get off!”
...
“Ow!”
“Crybaby.”
No, this isn’t what Talaith expected. Annwyl the Blood Queen was supposed to be a vicious, uncaring warrior bent on revenge and power. She let her elite guard rape and and pillage wherever they went, and she used babies as target practice while their mothers watched in horror. That’s what she was supposed to be and that’s what Talaith expected to find. Instead, she found Annwyl. Just Annwyl. A warrior who spent most of her resting time reading or mooning over her consort. She was silly, charming, very funny, and fiercely protective of everyone. Her elite guard, all handpicked by Annwyl, were sweet, vicious fighters and blindingly loyal to their queen.
Tags: fear-of-medical-treatment reputations
Adjusting her frames, Dagmar said, “It’s time for you to stop talking.”
“I don’t want to.”
“But you will stop talking.”
“We’re on my territory now, Beast. You can’t strut around here and pretend you rule all—”
“Quiet.”
“But—”
She raised her right forefinger.
“She—”
Dagmar raised that damn forefinger higher.
“It’s just—”
Now she brandished both forefingers. “Stop.”
He gave Dagmar his best pout, which she completely ignored, turning her back on him to again face Annwyl. “Think there might be some place private we can talk, my lady?”
Gwenvael’s mouth dropped open. “Did you just dismiss—”
Dagmar held up that damn forefinger again but didn’t even bother to look at him when she did.
Annwyl’s grin was wide and bright. A smile Gwenvael hadn’t seen from her in far too long. “Right this way, Lady Dagmar.”
“Thank you.” Dagmar brusquely snapped her fingers at Gwenvael. “And don’t forget to bring my bags up once I get a room, Defiler.”
Annwyl fairly glowed as she followed Dagmar from the room, her smile growing by the second. Gwenvael faced his sister. “It’s Ruiner, which is a vast difference.So get it right!” he yelled at the empty doorway.
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