Peace Treaty

The pair of women made their way around the edge of the castle and to the training area. Bowen had never used it, but she knew where it was. As she walked, she cast a side eye at the larger fae. What was her appeal? She was nice, but did Artorias think that Briar was prettier than Bowen? She was huge. Not dainty at all. Artorias could pick Bowen up, throw her around. She could ride on his back if she wanted to. He wouldn't be able to do that with Briar. Not with ease, anyway. And nothing like getting stabbed in the eye with antlers while you were rough housing in the bedroom, right? It had to be her personality.

Inwardly, Bowen sighed. She didn't want to be petty and nasty, but she couldn't help it. Artorias was her brother. He had been hers first. She had been stolen away and had found her way back to him. That had to count for something, right? There was a deep helplessness within the caramel cream fae. She craved certainty. The certainty that she was enough. Even beside Briar, she needed to know that she was enough. That they were enough. Now that Artorias had the idea that he could have two women... what would stop him from taking three? Four? Fifty? And being friends with that polyamorous brute from Fenmyre...

A low growl pulled from the usually docile woman as her viridian pools flashed red. She heard the instruction that was given and her attention was pulled back to the antlered fae. Bowen mimicked the stance that Briar took, but she didn't want words. She didn't want to speak. She wanted to act. "Just fight me," she demanded. Though she was no fighter, she wasn't totally helpless. She'd had to learn to protect herself to stay alive. Bowen was small and fast while Briar was hefty and slow. From their interaction, she would learn. Words were just going to go in one ear and out the other. Right now, Bowen needed to feel something. She needed to release the anger and insecurity that ate her alive inside. If Briar wanted to make herself the target, so be it.

"Bowen"