Meredith is a hot mess’s Reviews > Captured by the Berserkers > Status Update

“Look in the lake again.” She pointed to the still, black water.
Frowning, I did. The wind ruffled the water, but under the ripples the image was clear.

“That’s her. The Lady of the Lake.” I turned to Yseult, but she had disappeared. The reflection at my feet was the woman I’d met on the island, who shared her wisdom and lent her strength. A woman with dark hair, green eyes, and great power. Me.

“Well isn’t this a pretty picture.” A blonde woman appeared through the fog, walking briskly. She was short and ordinary-looking until she came closer. Her face was abnormally smooth and unlined, her expression fixed like a mask.

“Who are you?” Brokk snarled, and lunged towards her.


“She is the witch, Yseult,”

What could I do? My body ached, wet and ready. Soon the moon would pull me into her embrace. I’d come into heat and lose all good sense



the moon rose higher with every passing second. My flesh tuned to the light, trembling with wanton energy

“The heat is one of the reasons you are fit to be a Berserker bride. Your scent calls to us,” Brokk said. “It both arouses and soothes the beast. Submit to us, and you will be well.”
Her head jerked no.
“Yes.” Brokk stalked behind her, blocking her escape in case she darted out of the keep and ran. “We can heal your fever.”
“How?”
“We will fuck you until you cannot walk.”

“A day ago, I had barely spoken to a man. Now you tell me a mage wants to marry me. It is unbelievable.”

“Why?” I asked, and when she didn’t answer, I said, “The mage is not the only one who seeks you for this purpose.” Her head snapped up. “You mean—”

“Aye, Willow. You are the perfect Berserker bride.”

The silent ranks passed not a few paces from where we hid, over a hundred of them.These draugr stink of blood, but not rotting flesh, I said, when more than half had passed. They haven't been dead long.

We are hiding because the corpse king sent his servants to get you. They are dead men. Animated souls."

"He seeks all spaewives for his own. He desires your power. He had you contained in the abbey and planned to take you one by one, to consume your power by draining your blood--"

The blatant Scottish dialect in this historical fantasy -- coming from Berserkers from other areas than Scotland, is driving me up the wall. So far there's been:

Lass used multiple times

Ken

Cannae

Dinnae

I'm waiting for a 'Dinnae fash'