Hushed Willows im gonna live

"Certainly."

Dream-times of the empress could never diverge from her reflection. Beautiful, gracious — or, well, what the fierce lady presumed. Her kind turquoise-globes, waxy-eyed yet gleaming. If queens did caress the cheeks of newly born babes as sweet as cinnamon, oh! What Aoibh could give to be one. The rabbitsoft clasp of her bosom against the bridge of her nose. Jesting minuscule tales of salt-scented sharp-tooth were the weight of a pebble concerning caring. Maybe another short promenade? A flinging? Oh, Orlaith would not fornicate. Her hold could only be relinquished of the corpses of enemies. 

She forgets Fionn even exists these days. "He'll learn his lesson one day," Aoibh shrugs dismissively. Fionn is a problem all on his own, maybe he'd learn a thing a thing or two from the women.