The Half-Orc's Maiden Bride

There is nothing wrong with being a woman that likes clothes and makeup and all the feminine stuff in the world. Nor is there anything wrong with not liking that stuff. I’m just tired of society building up one side and tearing down the other. Let’s normalize heroines who like cooking and sewing, darn it.

What the fuck is wrong with the color pink anyhow?

"I'm not going anywhere with you," I say, as loud as I can. "You break your word to everyone. You gave me to Agakor in marriage and drove off with his gold before the wedding. You don't get a say in my life any longer."

"I'm okay," I breathe. And then I point at the man collapsed at his feet. "But I think you just married that one."

Agakor gazes down at me in surprise. "Gods. Yes, Iolanthe. Only you. I can't believe you'd have to ask. After touching you, you've ruined me for all other women."

He props up on an elbow, his hand on his ear as he gazes down at me. "You're beautiful, you know that?" I chuckle, because his hand is drifting down to my thigh, as if he can't resist touching me constantly.

You shouldn't be thanking your husband for thinking of your comfort. It should be his duty."

He kisses my mouth and then the tip of my nose, as if I'm precious to him, and it melts me.

I'm tempted to crawl under the table and kiss her large feet. "You are a wonder."