The god paused a moment and blinked, part of the smile fading. “Stare, I told you a while back, near when we first met that something was going to be done about your short life. This is merely … well.”
Her beak snapped as close as she could get it near his skin, in the circumstances.
“You didn't even ask me, Vitruvion!” she yelled. “What is it? How many deaths? How more do I have to suffer before you are satisfied?!”
The smile faded completely. It was replaced by a huge frown and a deep crush in his brow. He blinked a few times and switched his balance of his stance.
“Stare …” he said carefully, “This -”
“You disgust me,” she spat, the anger boiling over now and the words … they were words made to hurt, made to curse. She chose them to sting because it felt bloody good. Eyes dark she hissed at the man before her who had - had … gods, she couldn't even think about it.
“I hate you. I despise you,” she hissed, mad, “I wish we had never met, that Raevin had nerve found me. I wish I was still dead, that I had no life here. I wish you had been, I wish that you and I-”
Wham.
Her words were cut off. Suddenly there he was, leaning across her. No, not leaning, he was basically over her, straddling her. One leg was awkwardly bent over hips whilst the other was on the side of her. His eyes were dark again, full of an anger and passion so deep that she could barely fathom the beginnings of it. And his hand - his hand …
It was pressed against her throat, pinning her back against the headboard. Her great eyes, suddenly filled with fear stared back at him and her heart beat wildly. All the things she had been saying - they tumbled from her mind like leaves, born from malice and made to hurt, nothing more. They had served their purpose clearly for now he was holding her down, all the strength of ages poured in to subduing her, quietening her, reminding her just who was master and god in this relationship …
And then he saw her fear. Her utter, sudden distress and terror from him. Her beak was clamped shut, her breath short and in her mind all she could think about was the last few days and the two nights. Where the ferocity of dealing with the Hugin situation driving him over the age with ire, to the point where he had ordered her to sleep on the windowseat …
Something he knew, in this moment, he could make her do anytime. Because she knew precisely what and who he was, and what powers he possessed. He had every right to pull her apart molecule by atom, every single iota and particle …
But that was not the type of god he wanted to be. Not the type he had ever wanted to be. That was his father's way, likely his brother's way. A law given with a malicious grin, followed because of fear. A type of ruling that assigned beings under gods and gave them the right to crush them and banish them whenever they saw fit. Public executions, forced migrations, epidemics because one was simply bored …
