I AM IRON AND I FORGE MYSELF

Perhaps one day Wessex will be a warrior-queen: tall, proud, confident and bold in all her unusual, spiked glory. The type of woman whose quirks her subjects find endearing, and makes her enemies think twice about any tomfoolery. She would like to inspire devotion, admiration and fear all in the same breath. In short, she would endeavor to be like her mother, and as there are no other female idols that have come to replace the late, great Lagertha, Wessex must do with the childish, idealized version of the Warrior Queen. She need never know of her dam’s flaws. Ever.

This dance that she is doing with Manon is utterly unfamiliar. Stuck in a feeling that has nothing to do with her bulk, she feels clumsy, as if the beautiful woman might be secretly laughing at her for such obvious and infantile efforts. To what result? She does not know. Two mares cannot make a child, and even then does she want to be responsible for any more lives?

Ah, but Wessex’s brain is five steps ahead of her body. Call it anxiety, or something else. Nerves. The side effects of twitter-pated syndrome.

“It’s the horns, right?” Wessex jokingly quips back. “If you’d met me as a child, you’d probably look right past me – but these babies are my calling card now. I’ll consider them a success now that you’re talking to me.” This time, her words come with an ease and blatant flirting that she would not be able to manufacture around Tiamat. That bit of information is stored away for later analysis.   “I’m on a very leisurely patrol,” she responds, acknowledging the fact that she should be working, but this distraction is much more appealing. Her muscular shoulders roll, rippling beneath the tips of dragon ears and mottled fur. “Oh, this and that – fighting bears and fellow warriors, exploring… the usual.”

Is that the ‘usual?’ Hell, Wessex doesn’t know. She’s making everything up as she goes. “And you? Does the Edge keep you busy?” The thought occurs to the Corporal that she’d like to bring the pretty little thing back to the Basin to (no- not that, get your mind out of the gutter)  show her around, and request a reciprocating tour when the weather turns cold – when she would rather be anywhere but the ice-covered Basin.

W E S S E X