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Commiseration
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2022-01-30 22:32:59Rosy and Maren served us jellied cow heart on rye bread steamed in fresh colostrum. I sat beside Yolanda, across from Jarnja and Heith, with Fylja in the middle. Rosy had used her freshly learned healing skills to apply poultices to our scrapes and bruises – "Just like jelly!" she had exclaimed, dabbing them onto Yola, Jarnja, and I's wounds as the three of us sat in such thick silence, it could be cut like fat from an auroch.
We ate without a word until my younger sister could contain her twelve year old exuberance no more.Rosy oogled Yolanda: "Yolanda! My best friend! You are alive, my, why, this is the best day EVER."Yolanda smiled, flexing her biceps, enticing and gorgeous as the midnight sun in a leather tunic and buckskin trousers. A daggertooth dragon fang rested on a thong around her sandstone breast. Yola idly fingered it, then took it off her neck, and draped the necklace over Rosy's curling red locks. Rosy bounced on the balls of hRelated chapters
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Last Updated : 2022-01-30The Troll Queen's Bride Naglfari
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I could barely breathe as Jarnja crushed me in a headlock. I bit her wrist hard, drawing blood, and she yelped, releasing me. I rendered her into a half nelson, wrapping my thighs around her to pin her under me.She just sat there, smirking: “You like to be on top?”“We’ve – ugh – been sparring for two hours, Jarnja,” I choked, sweat dripping from my brow.“And we haven’t kissed yet,” she mourned playfully.Queen Jarngrimr stood, about to carry me, but I did an upper reap on her thigh, knocking her to the ground, and she wheezed as I crushed a foot on her ribcage.“Feisty minx,” Jarnja purred, grabbing my leg and slipping me down into the bed with her.“Let me go, Beast!” I laughed, losing myself. “I am bone tired, Queen.”She carried me to bed, laid me down, and began to brush my hair with an ivory comb.I threaded my fingers around
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The Crane Wife - In which Queen Jarngrimr contemplates her love for TurielThey said I should have loved a crane wife, her bleedingout in snow, onto ivory ice, I would give her my cloak andshe would be the female Christ, her blood stain my kimono,and as I carried her home to rice paper walls, on bent back,she would sing the sister stars down, and those souls departedwould flock around me, and I would know something of the afterlife,offering up my pain and beauty to death, and as her wings marriedmy mind and marred my pain stains into something quixotic, I wouldquicken, and Hell would have no place in my palace, and I would makea thousand like her, all for one wish of peace, after Hiroshima bombedme quite starstruck and desolate, and the grave of the fireflies wept.They say I should have loved a crane wife instead.Bu
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The Troll Queen's Bride Blooming Thorn
Asmodeus' cruel face softens. “I don't mean to pry, Janet, but don't you tire of resisting? It must be exhausting. Loving someone you despise. Let go of that hate, crown jewel. It is only keeping you from flight.”My wing stains ache. I nearly knock my tea cup over in anger. “Who said anything about love?” I demand. I have never told a single soul besides Samael that I love him. It is a secret I desperately keep. How sad, a tithe in love with her Fairy King. The Fairy King wound up being Tam Lin, trapped by his own enchantments. True, he is in ensnared by me, but our magic goes both ways.Asmodeus whistles low. “Raw nerve, eh? There's no use hiding your desire from me, Janet. You were built for him. Your very DNA has Samael etched on it. Fetal contracts and all that. Your signature is your wings.”“I was built for no one besides Proust’s vast corpus of literature,” I say haughtily.Asmodeus assumes a patronizing look, as if he is indulging a petulant child. I hate it. “Don't lie to yo
The Troll Queen's Bride Full Circle
“You're the demon of lust. How can I trust you?” I challenge.Asmodeus laughs. “What? Afraid I'll light your passion afire for our dear Samael? I would never do that, crown jewel. Your will is your own, and Samael would abhor me for manipulating you. He wants to win you for himself, without outside interference.” Asmodeus strokes his chin in contemplation. “Also, I don't just preside over lust, Janet - I'm a businessman,” he adds as an afterthought. “I run Hell's casinos and gambling houses and bars and bordellos, you know. Demons are more than the classifications mortals arbitrarily assign us. You would know that if you made any effort to socialize with us. Even just a trifle of trying to be queen. Your throne grows cold in the Hellopolis, dove.”My face reddens. “I am trying,” I murmur.“No, you run away to your avant garde bohemian flat in Paris and paint the days away,” Asmodeus points out. “Is it any wonder my kind distrusts you? You haven't put forward an iota of effort to know S
The Troll Queen's Bride In the Heat of the Moment(um)
“No! You are a beauty, inside and out,” Suri reassures me. “You bring out the best in Prince Samael. He is cruel - all demons are - but he has a better nature you draw out. He has changed since he has known you.”“He's turned his cruelty on me, you mean,” I lament. I take a drag from the hookah to calm my nerves, tasting the flavored serpentine vapor. This one is bottled sea foam. It tastes salty and sweet as the smoke settles in my lungs, then I exhale and try to relax.Suri looks concerned.“I'm sure he can be... trying at times. Prince Samael has always been capricious. Mercurial. But he loves you fiercely. He shows that love for his fallen brothers and sisters. Surely he has shown it to you?”“He has, yes,” I say. “But I don't know if I'd call it innocent affection. It's a dark, twisted force. I would never trust him, not really. Please don’t tell anyone that, Suri. It could cost me everything I love.”Suri steeples her fingers under her chin. “He has your best interests at heart,”
The Troll Queen's Bride Sterile as Snow
“Why, of course, my little dumpling.” She fixes me a plate of sweet, wrinkled dates and a stick of roasted lamb with seared onions she grills with her own fiery hair of flames. I hand over the appropriate coins - more than necessary - and she grins. “Come, sit with me, Janet. Tell me what that strange device in your ears is. I do so love your tales”“Oh really, I couldn't bother you, you’re so busy, you’re my friend-”“No. It is no bother at all! I quite enjoy your company. Come, tell me of the human world. I have not been there for many centuries. Your stories are always so delightful.”“Alright then,” I agree. She ushers me into her tent and onto a divan. There is a hookah crafted from the fumes of dragon’s breath that she smokes, smiling lackadaisically. She encourages me to try it. I do, in between bites of kebab and dates.“This is an iPhone,” I explain, taking out my earbuds and playing music for her on the speakers. Allat and Izad are spellbound by the Runaways. Suri claps in de
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A breeze picks up, spreading the cherry blossom petals to the breeze like rice thrown at a wedding. Samael catches a handful idly, crushing them between his fingers. I cringe at his act of destruction. He winces at my reaction and discards the pulp.“I didn't mean...” he trails off.“I know,” I say, too quick. I chew my upper lip, my cheeks burning. I am embarrassed for my show of weakness and even more for lashing out with violence. “I- I shouldn't have hit you.”“It's nothing. I’ve withstood much worse.”Cricket chirps and the gentle buzz of cicadas stretch in the silence between us. Fireflies light the air like will-o'-the-wisps.“I - I wouldn't mind if you told me a story,” I say.Samael looks at me in confusion. “Really?”“Yes, really. Like you did when I was young.”He smiles tentatively. “If you're sure...”“I am.”He rises, coming to sit beside me. He drapes his cloak over my shoulders to keep me warm. “Thank you,” I say.“It's nothing. Shall I - do you want me to begin?”“Y
The Troll Queen's Bride Tears of Lilit
I choose a Stephen King paperback – Salem’s Lot - from the lower shelves and struggle to decipher the pages, my curvy body sinking into the cushy couch. I’ve always been more size 12 than two, and look like those dumb pictures of Eve – soft sloping stomach like van Eyck’s Ghent altarpiece, pert breasts, and curving hips for days. The words of my chosen book all turn up like mush. The leather smells like the cigars Samael smokes, the spice of his orange and musk cologne, and rain. It smells like him. I close my eyes, inhaling the scent. Memories of him from my childhood haunt me, the man cloaked in shadow, the owner of my soul.The trauma of his words stretch across my mind: “How I will delight in breaking you.”I let out a soft cry, tears forming in my eyes. Here, in solitude, I can give in to the empty ache within me and cry over the childhood I never had, over the life I never will possess. I blot at my tears, cursing them.“Janet?” Samael asks with concern, suddenly materializing at
The Troll Queen's Bride Swan Down Arms
We reach the end of the hall. Samael utters a word in demonic speech and the great mahogany doors before us open. He enters the spacious personal library that fronts his quarters. Great windows peer out onto the moonlit courtyard that is surrounded by his rooms. The shelves rise dozens of stories into the air, built for winged beings, with narrow decks at each level that run the length of the library. Samael was thoughtful enough to install stairs for my use, seeing as I lack the necessary anatomy to fly between shelves. The library is one of the few treasures I now have, filled with books that span the ages and worlds. Classic human novels and new books line the bottom shelves, within easy reach for me. After human writers die, in Heaven, it’s said they continue writing even greater masterpieces, so books that never tasted mortal tongues are here – there are also a few damned romance novelists to boot. And of course, endless spell books.He's even included mysteries and psychological
The Troll Queen's Bride Porphyry
He helps me up. “I'm carrying you, Jean. Don't struggle.”“No! That's humiliating!” I yell, a loud maudlin. He does so anyways, lifting me up gently. His robes snake around me to stabilize me, and he folds his sooty owl wings to shepherd me away from the public’s eyes. I flail about, too disoriented to put up a united front, and end up with a mouthful of owl feathers.“What did you think would happen, pounding back all those drinks?” Samael says, his voice dry. He carries me out of the bar and further into the dusky hubbub of the streets. “You don't have a demon's temperament for alcohol, and you've never been able to hold your liquor.”“It's called drowning your sorrows, asshat. Alcohol is my crutch. The problem is you. Let me go.”“If I do, you'll fall again.”“I'd rather fall than be carried by you.”Despite my protests, he keeps me aloft, gliding like an omen through the streets. His robes are cold against my cheek, so eternally cold like his skin, just like the grave of his flesh.
The Troll Queen's Bride Enough
“Somehow, you snore like a foghorn. You look like Briar Rose, trapped in a thicket.” “Zzzz… eh?”“How delicate are the farts of a maiden who babbles in her sleep,,” Lussi drawls, naked, morning wood of his double serpent hemipenes crooked up like twin spears to the dawn. His prehensile cocks weep silky gold precum. My beloved husband idly watches me as the Arctic sun shines through the clouds of Vidagol. “Clear blue skies like sailor’s eyes,” he says. My husband’s amaranthine irises glow, his cheeks flushed as he draws the covers closer to my chin, then he tenderly leans into me, tracing the rise and fall of my breasts in fascination. “No lovelier creature has ever been made. I adore you. I worship you. You are all I want.”“Mrph?” I groan. My mouth stinks of sleep, and their is night grit in my eyes.He takes a deep whiff from my mouth. “Morning breath, as usual. Still cute.”I grunt and flip him the godsfinger. “Ten more minutes!” I groan, pulling the covers above my frazzled curls.
