Day Two-Sixty-Seven: Goblin Standards

The trickle has begun. King Gok is talking to us… one at a time. Interview-style.

It began this morning with one of the nobles, a woman wearing a torn paper mache dragon's head on her noggin. (She's been wearing it for two weeks now. I don't know why she doesn't take it off. Weird-ass upper class.) Two goblin guards came into our apartments and ushered her out for a question-and-answer period with the king in his private chambers. She looked frightened, but she didn't protest…

… and by the time she came back, she was much happier. Apparently the king, despite grilling her for details, had proven a most cordial and polite host. That's a bizarre thing to hear when you're used to an idiot who murders for sport, but I guess not every monarch is like Jeffrey.

Seriously. I hope he got eaten by a crocodile. If I ever see him again, his genitals will be lodged somewhere in the back of his own throat. For starters.

More nobles came and went during the day, and all of them returned with beaming reports of Gok's hospitality. They also said that he asked most of them similar questions, many of which had little to do with the catastrophe at the castle: what's your name, where were you born, tell me about your childhood, what was your relationship with King Jeffrey, that sort of thing. I don't know what game Gok's playing, but unlike the rest, I'm not fooled.

… maybe because I haven't talked to him yet. Still, I want to be cautious if I can. We shouldn't assume he's our buddy because he's letting us shack up in his kingdom.

All that shit aside, something else is bothering me that I think has something to do with the hormones of being pregnant: nobody here thinks I'm attractive. At all.

Let's put aside the humans for a second. I don't give a shit about 'em. I know Harold's got a thing for me - he tries to hide it, that coy little prick, but he sucks at subterfuge - and Edmund, well, his eyes roam. Guys are like that. I might be a widow, but that won't stop roaming. And if they try to get fresh or some shit, I'll pound them down. No worries.

No, not humans. It's the goblins that bug me on this.

I'm not a superficial lady. I don't give much of a damn if people don't find me attractive, and I don't give a damn if the people around me aren't attractive. How else could you explain Dragomir? He had kinda boyish good looks, but he turned homely whenever he freaked out. His face stretched into some weird shapes. And he smelled bad. No, I loved him because he was…

Um…

Well, an idiot. I guess I have a thing for idiots. Or just one idiot.

So it's not that I care about being called attractive, or even being considered attractive. I'm fine with not standing out. It's just… these goblins seem to actively consider me ugly. Whenever they come into the rooms and see me they look repulsed by my face, and they spend the rest of the time avoiding eye contact. One even sneered! What the hell?

This shouldn't bug me. At all. Which is why I think it's biology at work. I wouldn't normally care. It's a species difference thing. The little fuckers are ugly to me, so why wouldn't I be ugly to them? It makes perfect sense. I shouldn't care one single bit.

But I still punched the bastard who sneered at me. Right in the jaw. He asked for it.

Ugh. I need to get out of here. I wish this captive shit would end already.

Libby