He seems proud of that chaos, though the very notion makes me grimace. "If that's my option, be kind and simply murder me instead."
It has been some time since I have played. Decades. Centuries. Usually, I ignore their antics; joining in is out of character.
The more I notice the differences in me, the more uneasy I am. I'm like a child, long denied anything fun and suddenly allowed into the party. The thing inside me still has much influence, though for now, its anger directed at my mate seems sated. My cock twitches in my pants, remembering just what it took for me to stop wanting to strangle Darina.
"I say we've wasted enough time avoiding the subject, my king," Grimgol announces grouchily. "Tell us where we're at with that queenspawn of yours. Will she be problematic?"
"Likely. Aren't all women?"
I am surrounded by men, so we laugh.
"She's very fond of keeping her head on her neck, is all. Claiming the crown is the only way she'll stay safe. Once in power, well… She's open to being guided for now."
What she'll be like in a hundred years, who knows.
"Guided by us?" the redcap pushes.
"I said she wanted to keep her head on her shoulders, Foxwell. Favoring one side is a sure way of guaranteeing it doesn't remain there for long."
He sighs wistfully, likely at the thought of removing heads. "And we wish to let her keep it that way?"
"For my part, yes," I state hesitantly.
I ought to tell them she’s mine. They've likely spotted its mark on my skin, too polite to push, but they'll see soon enough who bears the matching claim. Speaking of it feels awkward. They'll ask questions, and I was honest when I told Darina it doesn't please me that she never had a say in the bond. Just like she never had a say in accepting the All inside her. As her mate, I allowed it, and so it was done, because while she was unconscious, I was the authority allowed to make that choice.
Do I have a mate if she’s never claimed me back? A question for the ages.
Still, it can't be wise to leave my allies in the dark.But saying anything becomes unnecessary. She enters, clad in one of Morrigan's best battle gowns, a mixture of fabric and armor, silver plates upon her bust and high collar, dark leather and velvet panels following the length of her body, but Mor was never shy, so it's open in various slits that reveal glimpses of her legs, or flashes of her arms through the open, flying sleeves. That nixie walks by her side, drawing all eyes, as her kind as well known devour of flesh; I’m grateful it’s here, giving pause to anyone tempted to take a bite out of my queen.
She's regal and beautiful, and despite everything, allmine, as the shifting mark running along her neck and left arm states.
The eyes of my circle fall on me, finding my brand, in the exact same spot.
I can't help it. I smirk as they gawk.
"Well, that's that. Long live the queen," Foxwell grunts under his breath, somewhat bitterly.
He would have quite liked to make war. It's not in the nature of the court of blood to do well in times of peace.
"Don't despair. There might be bloodshed yet," I say, watching Darina's progress through the parting crowds.
That seems to cheer him up.
Very few gazes are friendly. They probe and sneer and frown.
I make myself attempt to scan her mind, and am gratified to hit the strong, many faced shield I’ve been stopped by every time I tried since that day in the heart of the Hollow. She’s protected from me, which likely means she’s safe from every mind here.
Still, I miss her endless mental tattle. Her vulnerability. Her weakness.
When she reaches the queen's dais, Loch calls loud and clear over all the chatter,“Darina of House Harthorn, high queen to the folk.”
“Notyet,” someone sneers.
The crowd turns to single out Valmort, who has the gall to advance to the steps of the dais.
The nixie growl. Darina’s hand slides through her fur, calming her with a touch.
“Soon enough.” Loch shrugs indifferently. “You’ve all made vows to the crown. You may fulfill them now or be considered a traitor and stripped of your power over your court, which shall be given to loyal subjects.”
