Lake Lewisia #768

"In thanks for your service, we offer this one to be your consort," the monarch said with a gesture, indicating a girl-thing waiting, head bowed and beribboned, to one side. A moon ago, a lifetime, before quest and combat, he would have stuttered out, "Oh, yeah, no, I'm not really in the market for a...that," or perhaps, were he feeling particularly truthful, "I'm not into other people like that." But he had been a fairy's knight, and he had learned to bite down on casual agreement and incautious rejections both, and so all he said to this offered warbride, as he turned toward the waiting feast, was, "How do you feel about cake?"

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LL#768