Serpent Queen Quotes

Well, even if the serpent bites off your head,” says Tatterfell, “the rest of you will still look good.” “That’s the spirit,” I tell her.

And if the serpent grows in monstrousness and corruption, if it poisons the land of Elfhame itself, then let me be the queen of monsters. Let me rule over that blackened land with my redcap father as a puppet by my side. Let me be feared and never again afraid.

I was not the woman who breaks into pieces under the blows of abandonment and absence, who goes mad, who dies. Only a few fragments had splintered off, for the rest I was well. I was whole, whole I would remain. To those who hurt me, I react giving back in kind. I am the queen of spades, I am the wasp that stings, I am the dark serpent. I am the invulnerable animal who passes through fire and is not burned.

You might not think a hippo could inspire terror. Screaming “Hippo!” doesn’t have the same impact as screaming “Shark!” But I’m telling you—as the Egyptian Queen careened to one side, its paddle wheel lifting completely out of the water, and I saw that monster emerge from the deep, I nearly discovered the hieroglyphs for accident in my pants.

I am the queen of spades, I am the wasp that stings, I am the dark serpent. I am the invulnerable animal who passes through fire and is not burned.

I take it back," Rune said. "You're not an utter heroine. You're a drama queen.

It's not going to make a very good story, in the annals of my time as sister queen.” She quoted dryly, “‘Then her consort jumped up and knocked the foreign queen unconscious with a kettle.

I picture the High Queen as she was in that final battle, blood flecked across her face. Chopping off the head of the serpent who’d been her beloved, even if it doomed her side to failure, all to save a land that despised her. Now, that was hate that was somehow also hope.

I decided, enough pain. To the lips of their nocturnal happiness I would attach those of my revenge. I was not the woman who breaks into pieces under the blows of abandonment and absence, who goes mad, who dies. Only a few fragments had splintered off, for the rest I was well. I was whole, whole I would remain. To those who hurt me, I react giving back in kind. I am the queen of spades, I am the wasp that stings, I am the serpent. I am the invulnerable animal who passes through fire and is not burned.

What was it like?" I ask. "Being a serpent." He hesitates. "It was like being trapped in the dark," he says. "I was alone, and my instinct was to lash out. I was perhaps not entirely an animal, but neither was I myself. I could not reason. There was only feelings--hatred and terror and the desire to destroy." I start to speak, but he stops me with a gesture. "And you." He looks at me, his lips curving in something that's not quite a smile; it's more and less than that. "I knew little else, but I always knew you." And when he kisses me, I feel as though I can finally breathe again.

Do not mistake me for a hero. I’d destroy the entire world to save the person I loved the most.

Well, even if the serpent bites off your head,' says Tatterfell, 'the rest of you will still look good.' 'That's the spirit,' I tell her.

You aren't my prisoner,' he said. 'You're my queen.

When the Devil was a woman, When Lilith wound Her ebony hair in heavy braids, And framed Her pale features all 'round With Botticelli's tangled thoughts, When she, smiling softly, Ringed all her slim fingers In golden bands with brilliant stones, When she leafed through Villiers And loved Huysmans, When she fathomed Maeterlinck's silence And bathed her Soul In Gabriel d'Annunzio's colors, She even laughed And as she laughed, The little princess of serpents sprang Out of her mouth. Then the most beautiful of she-devils Sought after the serpent, She seized the Queen of Serpents With her ringed finger, So that she wound and hissed Hissed, hissed And spit venom. In a heavy copper vase; Damp earth, Black damp earth She scattered upon it. Lightly her great hands caressed This heavy copper vase All around, Her pale lips lightly sang Her ancient curse. Like a children's rhyme her curses chimed, Soft and languid Languid as the kisses, That the damp earth drank From her mouth, But life arose in the vase, And tempted by her languid kisses, And tempted by those sweet tones, From the black earth slowly there crept, Orchids - When the most beloved Adorns her pale features before the mirror All 'round with Botticelli's adders, There creep sideways from the copper vase, Orchids- Devil's blossoms which the ancient earth, Wed by Lilith's curse To serpent's venom, has borne to the light Orchids- The Devil's blossoms- "The Diary Of An Orange Tree

What was the secret that the serpent told Eve? That she could eat a certain fruit? Pah. That was a euphemism. The fruit was carnal knowledge and everybody from Thomas Aquinas to Milton knew it.

Though I would not delight to see the straps sink into your skin, neither would I mourn.' 'Enough blustering,' he says. 'You've already won. Look.' He takes me by the shoulders and turns me so that I can see where the great body of the serpent lies. A jolt of horror goes through me, and I try to wrench out of his grip. And then I notice the fighting has ebbed, the Folk are staring. From within the body of the creature emanates a glow. And then, through that, Cardan steps out. Cardan, naked and covered in blood. Alive. Only out of his spilled blood can a great ruler rise. ... Cardan takes a step forward and little cracks appear from his footfalls. Fissures in the very earth. He speaks with a boom that echoes through everyone gathered there. 'The curse is broken. The king is returned.' He's every bit as terrifying as any serpent. I don't care. I run into his arms.

Well, even if the serpent bites off your head,” says Tatterfell, “the rest of you will still look good.” “That’s the spirit,” I tell her.

I so adored her when she let her warrior queen armor fall, and came, silly and giggling, into my arms.

On top of the Tree of Life - in the Hall of the Palace - someone had found somebody for whom he had been searching for a long, long time. And the tears of joy which were shed became the fruit of the Tree of Life, the grapes whose juice if distilled by the flute of the blue god.

Snowlin Edlynne Krigborn, the one other blade mightier then this one

What was the secret that the serpent told Eve? That she could eat a certain fruit? Pah. That was a euphemism. The fruit was carnal knowledge, and everybody from Thomas Aquinas to Milton knew it. How did they know it? Nowhere in Genesis is there even the merest hint of the equation: Forbidden fruit equals sin equals sex. We know it to be true because there can only be one thing so central to mankind. Sex.

I let go of him and remain standing. I promised myself I would do this, if I ever had the chance again.. I promised I would do this the first moment I could. 'I love you,' I say, the words coming out in an unintelligible rush. Cardan looks taken aback. Or possibly I spoke so fast he's not even sure what I said. 'You need not say it out of pity,' he says finally, with great deliberateness. 'Or because I was under a curse. I have asked you to lie to me in the past, in this very room, but I would beg you not to lie now.' My cheeks heat at the memory of those lies. 'I have not made myself easy to love,' he says, and I hear the echo of his mother's words in his. When I imagined telling him, I thought I would say the words, and it would be like pulling off a bandage- painful and swift. But I didn't think he would doubt me. 'I first started liking you when we went to talk to the rulers of the low Courts,' I say. 'You were funny, which was weird. And when we went to Hollow Hall, you were clever. I kept remembering how you'd been the one to get us out of the brugh after Dain's coronation, right before I put the knife to your throat.' He doesn't try to interrupt, so I have to choice but to barrel on. 'After I tricked you into being High King,' I say. 'I thought once you hated me, I could go back to hating you. But I didn't. And I felt so stupid. I thought I would get my heart broken. I thought it was a weakness that you would use against me. But then you saved me from the Undersea when it would have been much more convenient to just leave me to rot. After that, I started to hope my feelings were returned. But then there was the exile-' I take a ragged breath. 'I hid a lot, I guess. I thought if I didn't, if I let myself love you, I would burn up like a match. Like the whole matchbook.' 'But now you've explained it,' he says. 'And you do love me.' 'I love you,' I confirm. 'Because I am clever and funny,' he says, smiling. 'You didn't mention my handsomeness.' 'Or your deliciousness,' I say. 'Although those are both good qualities.' He pulls me to him, so that we're both lying on the couch. I look down at the blackness of his eyes and the softness of his mouth. I wipe a fleck of dried blood from the top of one pointed ear. 'What was it like?' I ask. 'Being a serpent.' He hesitates. 'It was like being trapped in the dark,' he says. 'I was alone, and my instinct was to lash out. I was perhaps not entirely an animal, but neither was I myself. I could not reason. There was only feelings- hatred and terror and the desire to destroy.' I start to speak, but he stops me with a gesture. 'And you.' He looks at me, his lips curving in something that's not quite a smile; it's more and less than that. 'I knew little else, but I always knew you.' And when he kisses me, I feel as though I can finally breathe again.

The form of a servant girl bringing the king and queen refreshments made him invisible in the hallways as he edged towards his father's chambers. He as almost certain that's where Odin would have fled with Karnilla and Frigga. Once he was in the room, the servant girl would likely go unnoticed enough to eaves drop — certainly less noticed than a snake, which had been his initial plan, and which was easier to imitate than an Asgardian. But snakes tended to garner attention — Thor would pick up any serpent to admire it.

What’s that crazy Ranger doing?” Ores said, unable to believe what he was seeing. “He’s climbing up the leg… toward the serpent’s body…” Ender was muttering, impressed.

beware, whilst you assume the softness of the dove, to forget not the cunning of the serpent.

He’s every bit as terrifying as any serpent. I don’t care. I run into his arms.

No serpent's tooth, they say, has the sharpness of an ungrateful child, but no serpent's tooth has the sharpness of many an unappreciated mother.

I’m not afraid of your darkness, Serpent. I’m already consumed by it.” Livia kissed my fingertips.

If you'd prefer to remain here and have a hand in caring for the serpent," I say, "you only have to say so." Lady Asha looks as though what she'd really prefer is to stab me in the throat.

To those who hurt me, I react giving back in kind. I am the queen of spades, I am the wasp that stings, I am the dark serpent. I am the invulnerable animal who passes through fire and is not burned.

Inside the carriage, Cardan slumps. I stare at him, at the blood drying in tide lines over his body and crusting in his curls like tiny garnets. I force myself to look out the window instead. 'How long have I-' he hesitates. 'Not even three days,' I tell him. 'Barely any time at all.' I do not mention how long it has seemed. Nor do I say how he might have been trapped as a serpent for all time, bridled and bound. Or dead.

Once upon a time there was a great queen who, having given birth to twin daughters, invited twelve fairies who lived nearby to come and bestow gifts upon them, as was the custom in those days. Indeed, it was a very useful custom, for the power of the fairies generally compensated for the deficiencies of nature. Sometimes, however, they also spoiled what nature had done its best to make perfect, as we shall soon see. ("Green Serpent")

I would attach those of my revenge. I was not the woman who breaks into pieces under the blows of abandonment and absence, who goes mad, who dies. Only a few fragments had splintered off, for the rest I was well. I was whole, whole I would remain. To those who hurt me, I react giving back in kind. I am the queen of spades, I am the wasp that stings, I am the dark serpent. I am the invulnerable animal who passes through fire and is not burned.

Let kings stack their treasure houses ceiling-high, and merchants burst their vaults with hoarded coin, and fools envy them. I have a treasure that outvalues theirs. A diamond as big as a man’s skull. Twelve rubies each as big as the skull of a cat. Seventeen emeralds each as big as the skull of a mole. And certain rods of crystal and bars of orichalcum. Let Overlords swagger jewel-bedecked and queens load themselves with gems, and fools adore them. I have a treasure that will outlast theirs. A treasure house have I builded for it in the far southern forest, where the two hills hump double, like sleeping camels, a day’s ride beyond the village of Soreev. “A great treasure house with a high tower, fit for a king’s dwelling—yet no king may dwell there.  Immediately below the keystone of the chief dome my treasure lies hid, eternal as the glittering stars. It will outlast me and my name, I, Urgaan of Angarngi. It is my hold on the future. Let fools seek it. They shall win it not. For although my treasure house be empty as air, no deadly creature in rocky lair, no sentinel outside anywhere, no pitfall, poison, trap, or snare, above and below the whole place bare, of demon or devil not a hair, no serpent lethal-fanged yet fair, no skull with mortal eye a-glare, yet have I left a guardian there. Let the wise read this riddle and forbear.

On the throne, the remaining flowers turn the same inky black as Cardan's eyes. Then the black bleeds down his face. He turns to me, opening his mouth, but his jaw is changing. His whole body is changing- elongating and ululating. ... The monstrous thing seems to have swallowed up everything of Cardan. His mouth opens wide and then jaw-crackingly wide as long fangs sprout. Scales shroud his skin. Dread has rooted me in place. ... In the place where the High King was, there is a massive serpent, covered in black scales and curved fangs. A golden sheen runs down the coils of the enormous body. I look in to his black eyes, hoping to see recognition there, but they are cold and empty. 'It will poison the land,' cries the smith. 'No true love's kiss will stop it. No riddle will fix it. Only death.

No more light answers. Let our officers Have note what we purpose. I shall break The cause of our expedience to the Queen And get her leave to part. For not alone The death of Fulvia, with more urgent touches, Do strongly speak to us, but the letters too Of many our contriving friends in Rome Petition us at home. Sextus Pompeius Hath given the dare to Caesar and commands The empire of the sea. Our slippery people, Whose love is never linked to the deserver Till his deserts are past, begin to throw Pompey the Great and all his dignities Upon his son, who - high in name and power, Higher than both in blood and life - stands up For the main soldier; whose quality, going on, The sides o' th' world may danger. Much is breeding Which, like the courser's hair, hath yet but life And not a serpent's poison.

He informed me that Huguenots throughout France were bolting across our borders into Geneva. There, I’d been branded as Queen Jezebel. Printed pamphlets declaimed every vile rumor told of me: I was the Italian serpent, a monstrous being who’d schemed with Spain to exterminate their faith. When once I might have been outraged, quick to protest my innocence, I told Birago to do nothing. Let all the calumny fall upon me, if it would absolve my sons.

And if the serpent grows in monstrousness and corruption, if it poisons the land of Elfhame itself, then let me be the queen of monsters. Let me rule over the blackened land with my redcap father as a puppet by my side. Let me be feared and never again afraid. Only out of his spilled blood can a great ruler rise. Let me have everything I ever wanted, everything I ever dreamed, and eternal misery along with it. Let me live on with an ice shard through my heart.

I take another step toward the serpent. And then another. This close, I am stunned all over again by the creature's sheer size. I raise a wary hand and place it against the black scales. They feel dry and cool against my skin. Its golden eyes have no answer, but I think of Cardan lying beside me on the floor of the royal rooms. I think of his quicksilver smile. I think of how he would hate to be trapped like this. How unfair it would be for me to keep him this way and call it love. You already know how to end the curse. 'I do love you,' I whisper. 'I will always love you.' I tuck the golden bridle into my belt. Two paths are before me, but only one leads to victory. But I don't want to win like this. Perhaps I will never live without fear, perhaps power will slip from my grasp, perhaps the pain of losing him will hurt more than I can bear. And yet, if I love him, there's only one choice. I draw the borrowed sword at my back. Heartsworn, which can cut through anything. I asked Severin for the blade and carried it into battle, because no matter how I denied it, some part of me knew what I would choose. The golden eyes of the serpent are steady, but there are surprised sounds from the assembled Folk. I hear Madoc's roar. This wasn't supposed to be how things ended. I close my eyes, but I cannot keep them that way. In one movement, I swing Heartsworn in a shining arc at the serpent's head. The blade falls, cutting through scales, through flesh and bone. Then the serpent's head is at my feet, golden eyes dulling. Blood is everywhere. The body of the serpent gives a terrible coiling shudder, then goes limp. I sheath Heartsworn with trembling hands. I am shaking all over, shaking so hard that I fall to my knees in the blackened grass, in the carpet of blood. I hear Lord Jarel shout something at me, but I can't hear it. I think I might be screaming.

What was it like?' I ask. 'Being a serpent.' He hesitates. 'It was like being trapped in the dark,' he says. 'I was alone, and my instinct was to lash out. I was perhaps not entirely an animal, but neither was I myself. I could not reason. There were only feelings- hatred and terror and the desire to destroy.' I start to speak, but he stops me with a gesture. 'And you.' He looks at me, his lips curving in something that's not quite a smile; it's more and less than that. 'I knew little else, but I always knew you.

With my polished Verses as a trellis of pure metal Studded cunningly with rhymes of crystal, I shall make for your head an immense Crown, And from my Jealousy, O mortal Madonna, I shall know how to cut a cloak in a fashion, Barbaric, heavy, and stiff, lined with suspicion, Which, like a sentry-box, will enclose your charms; Embroidered not with Pearls, but with all of my Tears! Your Gown will be my Desire, quivering, Undulant, my Desire which rises and which falls, Balances on the crests, reposes in the troughs, And clothes with a kiss your white and rose body. Of my Self-respect I shall make you Slippers Of satin which, humbled by your divine feet, Will imprison them in a gentle embrace, And assume their form like a faithful mold; If I can’t, in spite of all my painstaking art, Carve a Moon of silver for your Pedestal, I shall put the Serpent which is eating my heart Under your heels, so that you may trample and mock, Triumphant queen, fecund in redemptions, That monster all swollen with hatred and spittle. from “To a Madonna

THE INFERNAL NAMES Abaddon - (Hebrew) the destroyer ... Asmodeus - Hebrew devil of sensuality and luxury, originally "creature of judgement" ... Azazel - (Hebrew) taught men to make weapons of war, introduced cosmetics ... Bast - Egyptian goddess of pleasure represented by the cat Beelzebub - (Hebrew) Lord of the Flies, taken from symbolism of the scarab Behemoth - Hebrew personification of Satan in the form of an elephant ... Coyote - American Indian Devil Dagon - Philistine avenging devil of the sea ... Dracula - Romanian name for devil ... Fenriz - Son of Loki, depicted as a wolf ... Hecate - Greek goddess of underworld and witchcraft ... Kali - (Hindu) daughter of Shiva, high priestess of Thuggees ... Lilith - Hebrew female devil, Adam's first wife who taught him the ropes Loki - Teutonic devil ... Mania - Etruscan goddess of Hell ... Midgard - son of Loki, depicted as a serpent ... Pluto - Greek god of the underworld Proserpine - Greek queen of the underworld ... Sammael - (Hebrew) "venom of God" ... Shiva - (Hindu) the destroyer ...

The Queen sat in her place before the king-column, in a chair of olive-wood inlaid with pearl and silver; her footstool was covered with a sheepskin scarlet-dyed. On a low seat beside her sat a dark young man, with strange shadowed eyes, whom I took to be the King. She rose and came to meet us; a woman of about thirty years, handsome still, and a true Cretan, with dark crimped hair in serpent tresses, breasts heavy but round and firm, and a little waist tightly cinched in with gold. She held out to Ariadne both her hands, and gave her the kiss of welcome.

The magic is unleashed as Tam Lin writhes in the grip of the Fairy Queen’s power. He is translated into a lion, a bear, a serpent and a red-hot band of iron, a burning gleed! But Janet, alone at midnight on the crossroads, clings fast to the man she loves.   ‘Again they’ll turn me in your arms To a red het gaud of airn; But hold me fast, and fear me not, I’ll do to you nae harm.   And last they’ll turn me in your arms Into the burning gleed; Then throw me into well water, O throw me in wi speed.   And then I’ll be your ain true-love, I’ll turn a naked knight; Then cover me wi your green mantle, And cover me out o’ sight.

Medusa was revered and exalted by the Libyan Amazons as the Queen Serpent Goddess of female wisdom. I think all the ramifications of the meaning of this title remain mysterious because female wisdom is denied in patriarchy and women must search beneath the hardened layers of conditioning to find our true heritage. The most common story of Medusa, whose name from ancient Greek medo means “to protect, to rule over” and “the ruling one,” tells the aggrandized patriarchal tale of jealousy, betrayal, rape and murder. In this myth the goddess is split into her “good” and “bad” aspects forcing her to appear to fight against herself—Athena, the daughter born from the forehead of her father, created in alignment with patriarchy as the male myth makers wished, and Medusa, the mortal Gorgon who was punished by Athena. The goddess punishes herself—a very strange, confused and twisted story indeed. The Classical Greek myths are all variations on these same themes. Demonizing the creative female powers of the cosmos became a high priority for the male-dominated violent hierarchy that sought to replace the more peaceful woman-centered cultures of the Neolithic. In the above-mentioned variation she is blamed for Poseidon raping her, the burden of which still plays out very commonly today, not only in the shame women feel when men rape them but also in the persistent blame that it is a woman’s fault if a man rapes her. Classical Greek mythology is the embodiment of both rape culture and a deep-seated misogyny that are the bedrock of Western civilization. I believe that the challenge in dealing with these violent woman-hating mythologies is to learn what lies at the core of these anti-woman and anti-life myths, for the Medusa Archimage is also cross-cultural.

Once upon a time there was a beautiful princess who was admired by all, but no one dared to ask for her hand in marriage. In despair, the king consulted the god Apollo. He told him that Psyche should be dressed in mourning and left alone on top of a mountain. Before daybreak, a serpent would come to meet and marry her. The king obeyed, and all night the princess waited for her husband to appear, deathly afraid and freezing cold. Finally, she slept. When she awoke, she found herself crowned a queen in a beautiful palace. Every night her husband came to her and they made love, but he had imposed one condition: Psyche could have all she desired, but she had to trust him completely and could never see his face.” How awful, I think, but I don’t dare interrupt him. “The young woman lived happily for a long time. She had comfort, affection, joy, and she was in love with the man who visited her every night. However, occasionally she was afraid that she was married to a hideous serpent. Early one morning, while her husband slept, she lit a lantern and saw Eros, a man of incredible beauty, lying by her side. The light woke him, and seeing that the woman he loved was unable to fulfill his one request, Eros vanished. Desperate to get her lover back, Psyche submitted to a series of tasks given to her by Aphrodite, Eros’s mother. Needless to say, her mother-in-law was incredibly jealous of Psyche’s beauty and she did everything she could to thwart the couple’s reconciliation. In one of the tasks, Psyche opened a box that makes her fall into a deep sleep.” I grow anxious to find out how the story will end. “Eros was also in love and regretted not having been more lenient toward his wife. He managed to enter the castle and wake her with the tip of his arrow. ‘You nearly died because of your curiosity,’ he told her. ‘You sought security in knowledge and destroyed our relationship.’ But in love, nothing is destroyed forever. Imbued with this conviction, they go to Zeus, the god of gods, and beg that their union never be undone. Zeus passionately pleaded the cause of the lovers with strong arguments and threats until he gained Aphrodite’s support. From that day on, Psyche (our unconscious, but logical, side) and Eros (love) were together forever.” I pour another glass of wine. I rest my head on his shoulder. “Those who cannot accept this, and who always try to find an explanation for magical and mysterious human relationships, will miss the best part of life.

You made a good choice for your Naga,” she assured me. “Danica is more graceful on a dais than half the serpents I know.” “Provided she isn’t blushing too brightly to see,” another quipped. “The first time I saw our queen perform, I thought she was a lost cause--far too uptight, like most avians--but I’m glad to be proved wrong.” I knew I was grinning. I had never doubted that Danica could learn the serpent art. Much of her loved my world; a part of her craved dance as surely as anyone else in this nest did. Perhaps that thirst came from her time dancing with the currents of air far above where we earthbound creatures roamed, or perhaps it came from the expressive nature her own world forced her to hide. Similar conversation flowed among us until A’isha’s musical voice commanded me, “Zane, admire your queen.” The words brought our attention to the back of the room, where Danica had emerged, looking so beautiful that she took my breath away. In response to her teacher’s words, Danica smiled and shook her head, causing her golden hair to ripple about her face. It made my heart speed and my breath still, as if I was afraid the next movement would shatter the world. She was a spark of fire in sha’Mehay. The serpiente dress rippled around the hawk’s long legs, the fabric so light it moved with the slightest shift of air. The bodice was burgundy silk; it laced up the front with a black ribbon, and though it was more modest than many dancers’ costumes, it still revealed enough cream-and-roses skin to tantalize the imagination. On Danica’s right temple, A’isha had painted a symbol for courage; beneath her left collarbone lay the symbols for san’Anhamirak, abandon and freedom. “You dance every day with the wind. This is not so different,” A’isha said encouragingly to Danica. “Now, look at the man you love and dance for him.” The nest hushed, faces turning to their Naga. Her cheeks held more color than usual, which A’isha addressed with a common dancers’ proverb. “There is no place for shame, Danica. If Anhamirak had not wanted beauty admired, she would not have made our eyes desire it. You are art.” Danica stepped out of A’isha’s grip. “If my mother could see me now,” she murmured, but she smiled as she said it.

You made a good choice for your Naga,” she assured me. “Danica is more graceful on a dais than half the serpents I know.” “Provided she isn’t blushing too brightly to see,” another quipped. “The first time I saw our queen perform, I thought she was a lost cause--far too uptight, like most avians--but I’m glad to be proved wrong.” I knew I was grinning. I had never doubted that Danica could learn the serpent art. Much of her loved my world; a part of her craved dance as surely as anyone else in this nest did. Perhaps that thirst came from her time dancing with the currents of air far above where we earthbound creatures roamed, or perhaps it came from the expressive nature her own world forced her to hide. Similar conversation flowed among us until A’isha’s musical voice commanded me, “Zane, admire your queen.

I don’t know much about your kind, but I know that a snake’s egg will grow too quickly and die if they’re too hot. Your palace doctor has confirmed that your young are the same way. That being so, imagine a serpiente child growing in an avian womb; it would never survive.” Without waiting for me to acknowledge whether I understood, she concluded, “Apparently you’re both human enough to breed together. Your mate’s body is adapting itself to take care of your child. She will be weak for a while, but otherwise she appears healthy. You may see her in a couple of days.” “Days?” “I’ve been a doctor since before you were born, and that gives me the right to be blunt,” Betsy said. “She needs a few days without excitement while her system is getting used to the changes. Having you in her bedroom is not going to help her rest.” Again I grudgingly accepted the doctor’s orders, though I hoped that Danica would argue once she woke. “Andreios, you’ll make sure he does as he’s told?” Betsy appealed to the crow. Rei answered immediately, “You know I would never let anyone do anything that would endanger my queen.” Betsy frowned. “You’ve spent too much time with serpents for me to trust that means you’ll obey my orders,” she said. “I’ll wash my hands of it until she has the sense to return to the Keep. Just make sure she is allowed to rest. I will stay in serpiente lands until she is well enough to travel, in case complications arise. Zane, your associates assured me a room in the palace.” I nodded. “Of course.” I wasn’t overly fond of the doctor right then, but that wasn’t really her fault. Avians, and their fixation on decorum and respectability, sent me to the brink of insanity almost daily.

Kluit laughed. “We storytellers get blamed for all kinds of things—corrupting the young, failing to paint a glorious enough picture of our queen, insulting the priests—but our obligation is to dig into our own hearts and expose the truths there. Sometimes our hearts are full of monsters. It takes valor to look them in the eye.

You’re my Lightbringer—the shining one who fell into the shadows.

(Errour's Den) This is the wandring wood, this Errours den, A monster vile, whom God and man does hate: Therefore I read beware. Fly fly (quoth then The fearefull Dwarfe:) this is no place for liuing men. But full of fire and greedy hardiment, The youthfull knight could not for ought be staide, But forth vnto the darksome hole he went, And looked in: his glistring armor made “A litle glooming light, much like a shade, By which he saw the vgly monster plaine, Halfe like a serpent horribly displaide, But th’other halfe did womans shape retaine, Most lothsom, filthie, foule, and full of vile disdaine. And as she lay vpon the durtie ground, Her huge long taile her den all ouerspred, Yet was in knots and many boughtes vpwound, Pointed with mortall sting. Of her there bred A thousand yong ones, which she dayly fed, Sucking vpon her poisonous dugs, eachone Of sundry shapes, yet all ill fauored: Soone as that vncouth light vpon them shone, Into her mouth they crept, and suddain all were gone. [The monster] Lept fierce vpon his shield, and her huge traine All suddenly about his body wound, That hand or foot to stirre he stroue in vaine: God helpe the man so wrapt in Errours endlesse traine. His Lady sad to see his sore constraint, Cride out, Now now Sir knight, shew what ye bee, Add faith vnto your force, and be not faint: Strangle her, else she sure will strangle thee. That when he heard, in great perplexitie, His gall did grate for griefe and high disdaine, And knitting all his force got one hand free, Wherewith he grypt her gorge with so great paine, That soone to loose her wicked bands did her constraine. Therewith she spewd out of her filthy maw A floud of poyson horrible and blacke, Full of great lumpes of flesh and gobbets raw, Which stunck so vildly, that it forst him slacke His grasping hold, and from her turne him backe: Her vomit full of bookes and papers was, With loathly frogs and toades, which eyes did lacke, And creeping sought way in the weedy gras: Her filthy parbreake all the place defiled has. ... Her fruitfull cursed spawne of serpents small, Deformed monsters, fowle, and blacke as inke, Which swarming all about his legs did crall, And him encombred sore, but could not hurt at all. ... Resolv’d in minde all suddenly to win, Or soone to lose, before he once would lin; And strooke at her with more then manly force, That from her body full of filthie sin He raft her hatefull head without remorse; A streame of cole black bloud forth gushed from her corse. Her scattred brood, soone as their Parent deare They saw so rudely falling to the ground, Groning full deadly, all with troublous feare, Gathred themselues about her body round, Weening their wonted entrance to haue found At her wide mouth: but being there withstood They flocked all about her bleeding wound, And sucked vp their dying mothers blood, Making her death their life, and eke her hurt their good.

The spring under the oasis was supposed to have extraordinary healing abilities.

Many generations ago, your ancestor Abraham and his family infested this land like a plague. He invaded this very city of King Arba, and butchered every one of our ancestors with impunity—save one. Abraham did not know that our queen Naqiya would give birth in her death to the child within her womb. That child was Anak, the father of my people. For over four hundred years we have waited for the opportunity to exact revenge upon our enemies, the Seed of Abraham.” Joshua responded with equal confidence, “The War of the Seed goes back farther in time. In the Garden of Eden Yahweh pronounced a curse upon the Seed of the Serpent at war with the Seed of Eve. He prophesied that Eve would crush the head of the Serpent. King Ahiman, the creator Yahweh has claimed your land and he will possess it for his people.

The only thing worse than attending a formal Court is attending a formal Court where I’m expected to participate in legal arguments. Normally, I come in, get into a fight with the nearest noble, stab something, and leave. It’s very efficient and dramatic and entirely inappropriate when you’re trying to convince the Queen to authorize the early awakening of someone who may not have broken Oberon’s Law in a way that anyone would hold against her, but who had definitely behaved in an inappropriate and impolite manner, possibly racking up several charges of offense in the process.

The wind stirred his loose hair and Sorasa assessed him for the first time since her memory failed. Since the deck of the Tyri ship caught fire, and someone seized her around the middle, plunging them both into the dark waves. She did not need to guess to know who. Dom’s clothing was torn but long dry. He still wore the leather jerkin with the undershirt, but his borrowed cloak had been left to feed the sea serpents. The rest of him looked intact. He had only a few fresh cuts across the backs of his hands, like a terrible rope burn. Scales, Sorasa knew. The sea serpent coiled in her head, bigger than the mast, its scales flashing a dark rainbow. Her breath caught when she realized he wore no sword belt, nor sheath. Nor sword. “Dom,” she bit out, reaching between them. Only her instincts caught her, her hand freezing inches above his hip. His brow furrowed again, carving a line of concern. “Your sword.” The line deepened, and Sorasa understood. She mourned her own dagger, earned so many decades ago, now lost to a burning palace. She could not imagine what Dom felt for a blade centuries old. “It is done,” he finally said, fishing into his shirt. The collar pulled, showing a line of white flesh, the planes of hard muscle rippling beneath. Sorasa dropped her eyes, letting him fuss. Only when something soft touched her temple did she look up again. Her heart thumped. Dom did not meet her gaze, focused on his work, cleaning her wound with a length of cloth. It was the fabric that made her breath catch. Little more than a scrap of gray green. Thin but finely made by master hands. Embroidered with silver antlers. It was a piece of Dom’s old cloak, the last remnant of Iona. It survived a kraken, an undead army, a dragon, and the dungeons of a mad queen. But it would not survive Sorasa Sarn. She let him work, her skin aflame beneath his fingers. Until the last bits of blood were gone, and the last piece of his home tossed away. “Thank you,” she finally said to no reply.

I still fully intend to wreak havoc,” she spat. “And I’m going to start by rearranging your face if you don’t stop grinning at me like that.

Her words—and breath—caught abruptly in her throat as he leaned closer and whispered, “You have no idea about the sort of chaos I could cause you.

eyes were bright and fierce, flashes of gold playing across them. “Do you know how hard it has been to fight this? To make you angry, to keep you away? To force you to hate me, so I don’t fall to my knees before you and pledge my heart and soul?” I stared

The world outside of them—all the stars and songs and strange meetings—faded out of existence.

In the place where the High King was, there is a massive serpent, covered in black scales and curved fangs. A golden sheen runs down the coils of the enormous body. I look into his black eyes, hoping to see recognition there, but they are cold and empty.

The Peacock & The Eagle: Cleopatra's Entry Into Tarsus by Stewart Stafford Cleopatra arrives, regal and mighty, From ocean spray as Aphrodite, Wealthy and waif, yearning for her, Dared all to defy her possessive aura. Mark Antony, struck by her sultry gaze, Lepidus, prisoner in a bureaucrat's maze, Sees power slipping from a friend’s hand, Ensnared by a siren from a scorched land. Lepidus was Caesar's trusted right hand; A granule falling through hourglass sand, Antony, headstrong military provocateur; Funeral orator from bloody crown auteur. Bargain's scorpion pincers; no longer twain: Cleopatra was Ceres, promising Rome grain, Antony was Mars' armed emissary, Business and pleasure's flood tributary. Antony: "Barge of emerald, Elysium's onyx! Beyond counsel words of sage sardonic, Gliding the Cydnus's silken seam, This Nile Helen shall be my queen." Lepidus: "Pleasure vessel of a floating whore, Yours for a sesterce on the Tiber's shore, Honour your oath, noble Roman creed, Lest passion’s shipwreck sets out to sea.” "This Venus virago on her mirage barge; Serpent prow, silver oars, rhythmic charge! What hubris to think she can equal, The bloody talons of our Roman eagle!" Antony: "Feast your eyes past peacock's bower, She speaks Rome's tongue of naked power. Mark it, that obsidian Sphinx stings - Human head, lion's body, eagle wings! "That is the form she takes to the public: I smell a perfumed alliance for the Republic! With Plebeians as her tickled cats, they hum, I crave her beauty and company. Come!" © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.

I close my eyes, but I cannot keep them that way. In one movement, I swing Heartsworn in a shining arc at the serpent’s head. The blade falls, cutting through scales, through flesh and bone. Then the serpent’s head is at my feet, golden eyes dulling.

But it is a scheme that can be turned on its head. I have tied their hair to the golden bridle, and it will not be me who is bound with the serpent. Once the serpent is bridled, Madoc and Lord Jarel will become my creatures,

A queen must do what is necessary, Louise. You were almost there, but you stopped. Shall I show you the path to continue? Shall I show you everything you lack?

Traditionally,” said Orion, “the Lilu celebrations involve a human sacrifice, usually a prisoner dressed up as a mock king, and we tear him to pieces with our hands and consume his flesh.” I gaped at him. “Can we just do, like…a taco truck, maybe?

My actions are no better than my true face.” I barely heard his words, they were so quiet.

Why would that rune have appeared on the tapestry? I was sure it meant something.

Mazrith, I want the bond!” The shadows flurried as his sad, resolute eyes widened. I held my wrist high and willed the black mark to return. “I want to be bound to you!

I already am! I love you.” The shadows stopped. Tears flowed down my cheeks as I stared into his eyes. Black was creeping across them, but they were still his.

Undo what was done! You are the only one who can. If you refuse, I will make you one of us.

A rune-marked fae created the Starved Ones,” I breathed. “Using this mist-staff to steal Vanir magic.” “You mother created us,

They had killed my mom’s human husband to try to force her to harm other humans? And she had taken rage-fueled revenge and cursed them instead.

If I use this to free you, then I lose it. All its power. Mazrith will lose his Court, never wield his magic again.” The Elder took a step toward me, and Maz shook his head. “I don’t want power. Just you.” “Or, I could use this to control you,” I said, and the Elder paused. “I could use this to turn you into my weapon.” Mazrith’s swirling eyes widened. “Reyna, why would you—” “Or I could use it to destroy you.

Slowly, Orm lifted the Queen’s mist-staff. The now very dead Queen. “I never thought to own two mist-staffs, but one that controls an army of undead?

I held my empty hand out. It had, just as the vision had shown me, turned to mist.  “You freed them.

saw a shadow-fae, standing behind who I now knew was my mother.

make me realize that the shadow-fae was my mother’s handmaid. They were close. Friends.

If I am not able to return and wake her, you must hide my staff, and leave a trail — one only she will be able to follow. She will be able to wield my staff, she will be able to see what to do. I have disguised her as human. Wake her when the time is right.

Yes. Dwarves, wolves, and the high fae, or Vanir as the gods called them. That made eight. Then the goddess Freya and the mighty Thor took one each for themselves.

Prince is not cruel. But, he is not true. There is darkness in him.

How did she die?” “A disease. One of the rare few that can kill fae. He always believed his stepmother caused it somehow.” “Caused a disease?

But this time, I saw the shadow-fae handmaid too. She retrieved the staff and returned to the Shadow Court, where she hid it inside the mountain, then pledged her service to Mazrith’s mother.

My mother had sent Voror, from the Vanir homeworld, high in the canopy above Yggdrasil.

I was the only rune-marked fae left in Yggdrasil because my mother’s actions had changed everything. The Vanir decided there was too much power wielded by the rune-marked fae, and that the balance of humans and fae was wrong. They made the rune-marked human, and removed their history from the scriptures. But I was protected by my mother’s magic, inside the tree.

Life. There was a stirring of life… inside her belly.

He's every bit as terrifying as any serpent. I don't care. I run into his arms.

Then the serpent’s head is at my feet,

Then you need to let her love you in return. To refuse her love when you long for it would be a cruelty no woman deserves.

Well, even if the serpent bites off your head,” says Tatterfell, “the rest of you will still look good.” “That’s the spirit,” I tell her.

Your Seven are leal men and valiant, but they are men, and there are places men cannot go.” The king could not disagree. A raven flew to Duskendale that very night, commanding the new Lord Darklyn to send to court his bastard half-sister, Jonquil Darke, who had thrilled the smallfolk during the War for the White Cloaks as the mystery knight known as the Serpent in Scarlet. Still in scarlet, she arrived at King’s Landing a few days later, and gladly accepted appointment as the queen’s own sworn shield. In time, she would be known about the realm as the Scarlet Shadow, so closely did she guard her lady.

And I’ll make sure it hurts when I fuck her, just like it did when he raped our queen two hundred years ago.

sprinting now, shouting something indiscernible. “But with the Witch, the Queen . . . La Dame des Sorcières.

Mary, herself depicted as Hygieia, the goddess of health, whose animal was a serpent drinking from a saucer held in her hand.

of paved highways and international sailing routes. God also prepared to fulfill His promise to the serpent in Eden: “I will put animosity between you and the woman, and between your descendant and her descendant; he will bruise your head, and you will bruise his heel” (Gen. 3:15). For God never sleeps, and though He may not communicate as we expect Him to, He can always speak to a receptive heart.

And if the serpent grows in monstrousness and corruption, if it poisons the land of Elfhame itself, then let me be the queen of monsters. Let me rule over that blackened land with my redcap father as a puppet by my side. Let me be feared and never again afraid. Let me have everything I ever wanted, everything I ever dreamed, and eternal misery along with it. Let me live on with an ice shard through my heart.

Moon had been consort to Jade, sister queen of the Indigo Cloud Court, for eleven days and nobody had tried to kill him yet. He thought it was going well so far.

Frost, stop.” Moon had seen groundlings spank their young before and had no idea how that would work with a Raksuran fledgling queen. But he was ready to give it a try.

Those who treat with Norilendra Queen must be accomplished serpent handlers.

It is time to reclaim the essence of Medusa’s sovereignty in her entirety, once again re-storying the Queen Serpent Goddess of Female Wisdom.