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Wedding Song
We boarded the Naglfari bone and nails ship, as Jarnja stood in her bestial form proud atop the prow. She blossomed like a boar bristle brush as she drank us in with lion eyes, bowing low like a dire wolf in service to her pack mates. Jarngrimr’s thick black lips quirked:
“To what do I owe such a blissful occasion?” Jarnja inquired, her eyes glimmering like coals. “My dear Valkyrie, and my dearest shieldmaiden – Yolanda and Turiel meadowsweet – what is that in your palm, dear Turry?”Yolanda and I smiled, surrounded by our friends, family, and godborn Heith. We knelt, and in unison said: “Jarnja, will you marry us?”She balked, then began to weep: “You both truly love me, my troths?”We could not voice our feelings, so Yolanda and ISang:“To Wotan’s Daughter”“Gift for a Gift”“You ask what priKaugnay na kabanata
The Troll Queen's Bride Lussi
Jarngrimr lazed in bed with Yolanda and I, us three brides content as a vicious wind rocked the ship captain’s berth like Hyndla shoving Balder’s funeral pyre off to Helheim. The ghost of Nanna, his bright armed bride, wept, and the call of the Underworld drew near.“The River of Knives, Nastrond, is at hand,” Jarnja hissed, her fangs and red-black coals of eyes glimmering in the anemic Vidagol light.We ventured to the prow, and crossed on overInto the dark Mist.Gullinkambi illuminated the Strait of Bone that surrounded Vidagol. He crowed loudly, heralding dusk’s descent. The sun blotted out like a stain, the ghosts of draugr clawed at Naglfari from the tides, brilliant and shining like pond gunk turned opal. “Quick!” Jarngrimr said, but suddenly, Loki and Sigyn appeared in the mist, glowing like molten flame, their red blonde hair a fulsome Saint Elmo’s fire
The Troll Queen's Bride Eleleth's Heir
5,000 Years Later:The Snow King watches me on a throne of silver. He twines a thread round his fangs, then snaps it and spits it out.“Slit my gullet and stuff it full of pork pie. I’m starved,” he opines. His muscles ripple as he flexes biceps that could crush a giant’s skull. “My adorable little wife. Come and let me pamper you. Maybe you brought me food?” His ram’s horns shine in the mist.“I’m 6’7 and covered in gore from your labyrinth. I ran out of food a day ago.”“I’m 7’8. Hence, little lady, thou art tiny. And what’s a little blood to a man, Dia?”He snorts suggestively, a caged gnarl.I laugh at the silly sound.“You haven’t changed a bit in undeath, Lussi,” I observe.He smirks. “The siren call of the grave makes me stronger.”I study him: my husband dear an
The Troll Queen's Bride Hieros Gamos
“About what?” I polish the flames on my blade with a buffing stone from my pocket.“I do not have two snake dicks.” He looks down reluctantly, brow glowing plasma.“That’s the myth you’re hung up over? Not the pillaging, patricide, and murder?”“The cobra cock is the main one, yes.” He’s crying sleet. It smells like ship tar and rain.“You’re making it snow in sorrow. Hush, my sweet. I don’t mind your anatomy.”“Well, if I have a reptile dick, what about Mikhail? A platypus? What a weakling.”“A lion’s, I think. And you won that war through subterfuge alone.”“So what? I’m not a court knave dealing cards. I was father’s pawn… you were lucky to have parents that cared. Not that they didn’t abandon you, just like mine. Titans don’t have nurturing qualities
The Troll Queen's Bride Alexandria
I gently nudge a sleeping Lussi off me, and quietly sheathe my sword. I walk out.He wakes, crying: “Dia, please, don’t leave me! I can’t bear this alone.”His ragged sobs follow me up the nine circles and fresh out of Hell, like a crow. I sob, but do not look back. To look back and reply, I would be stuck in Jahonna forever.I ascend the Hades grotto that leads back to Vidagol. My bridal finishing school that Lucifuge presides over awaits me, where the demons live in court intrigue with their brides. Lussi visits every week to preside over his domains, and I attend him in wifely duties. If I did not, my Arcadian bloom would wither; my blood would boil like the Phlegethon. I touch my collar and wince.The prophets say, if Lussi truly dies, he will be reborn uncursed as Sa’el, and will bring peace. Thus, I play with ways to dispose of my husband, for him to be renewed an Irin. He thinks the prophecy of Sa’el a fallac
The Troll Queen's Bride Malik
Malik is in his pea plant garden, the mutant plants growing red and black blossoms.He idly pops a legume open, then looks up mid-scarf to find Alexandria and I dressed in hunting trousers, buckskin boots, blue cloaks, and tunics embroidered with sun sparrow wings.His green eyes, sandstone skin, and curling red-black hair spills onto his leather coat and black harem pants. He spits the peas out, rubies hanging from his ears, gold torc at his throat.“Oh no, a visit from the ladies. What is it, my doves? Excited for Lussi’s ball? Matilda, chocolates!” He claps his hands and calls to his succubus lab assistant, who canters off on fawn hooves with a “Yes master!” to the kitchen to fix us a plate of cocoa tinged sweets. Malik has them imported just for Lexa across the Naiadis Sea from the southern Unktehi, he loves her so.“Excited my ass,” I snort. “You hate Lucia.”“She
The Troll Queen's Bride Sidhr Tree
Alexandria flies on her indigo wings through a flurry, bundled in her hunting cloak, and Malik is dressed in dark wool and deerskin, his bat wings folding, lifting and flying as he and Lexa dance through the air.My iron skiff of eider down, Lussi’s bridal gift to me, and a quiverful of phoenix-fletched arrows from Alexandria are at my side as the prow of my boat charts its way around icebergs and snow seals. The white iron doves of Vidagol fly with metallic feathers, spawned when Elyon’s blade met Eleleth’s trident in the first of their wars. They are scrappy birds that screech like the twang of a snapping piano string, perched on the helm of my boat carved like a siren.I toss an apple up into the air. “Catch, Malodorous!”“Don’t call me that!” Malik shouts, but grabsit anyway, biting into the golden flesh. “Mmm, Laushtian apples, my favorite.”“Share, you hound, you’
The Troll Queen's Bride Lucia
I am in the bridal chamber with Lucia, Lussi’s female form. She has platinum hair, soft, ethereal features, small breasts like hills of milk, and is dressed in blue violet robes.She looks at me inquisitively, then gently pets my wrist. Transfixed, the spell of her beauty breaks, and I continue to adorn her, lighting her tallows aflame: candles shine in her hair, white tapers arranged in an ivy Lussinight wreath that I have gently braided into the cornsilk strands of her crown. She sits silently like a queen, a translucent black veil over her albino face. She stares into the mercury of her mirror, and waits bemusedly as I powder her brow.My wife looks like a China doll from the Eastern lands father once brought back to me from one of his far flung mercantile trips to the Oni. All of the humor of Lussinight has left her, her bravado and jokes and tricks, vanquished by a sicksleep wind.She dreads this as much as I do, her Harrowings. Luci
The Troll Queen's Bride Harrowed in Hell
I shudder, and spit in her face. She simply licks it up.I speak in tremulous thunder: “Your prophecies are shortsighted and wrong.”Lucia lets out a snort. “You think my visions ill-intentioned, like false prophets gibbeted in Judecca? What do you know of the future, you paltry, blind mortal?”I dig my fingers into her hips and kiss her with vile. She groans, pulling me in, and cries. I break away, my breaths coming like fractured bones: “I know that demons lie. That I have no hidden potential. That I will only bring you pain. Prophesize yourself dead, why don’t you, slain by my blade and reborn as Sa’el!”“More! More kisses, my heartbreakingly beautiful wife. I need more – ughlgh?”I drive the hilt of my dagger into her breast, and she gasps, choking up ichor. I get a chestful of the poison her veins spray, but the flesh of her demonic construction rejects the Ifrit
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