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A name given; a body delivered. That was my true role. That of a harbinger. A lone assassin in a world of none. Death’s Maiden.
“If a man ever tried to throw me around, I’d cut his balls off before he had the chance to empty them.”
“Come on, fearsome, king-slaying Death Maiden with thirty-two titles. Let’s ruin everyone’s plans.”
“Hate to interrupt the festivities, but it seems your princess is already married. To me.”
“I’m beginning to think there are no sides of you that wouldn’t absolutely destroy me.”
“I’m sorry everything is broken, Deyanira. But I want to fix it. I don’t think I’m supposed to want that. Hell, I don’t think I’m supposed to want you, but here we are, and I can’t help the way my heart fucking aches for you.”
“I am not enough. You are the stars and the storm, Wife. Somehow, you’re both peace and destruction. Nightmare and a daydream. You’re hell and home. Fear and solace. Slumber and panic. Kindness and rage. Light is easy to love, but I’ve seen your darkness, and I want that, too. I crave it. I want to fucking drown it in. But how does any man live up to that? Deserve that?”
“No, Husband. I am the abyss that calls to your shadows, the tempest that matches your storm. We are not mere darkness, we are the symphony of our scars.”
