This post will contain spoilers for Terry Pratchett’s Men at Arms. If you haven’t read it, go do so.
Read it?
Good.
Carrot is an alpha, a total sweetheart, and very, very hot. Angua, his lover, considers him her master. Anyone who reads much Terry Pratchett knows it’s not because she’s a woman. (Try to imagine Granny Weatherwax calling anyone “master”.) It’s because she’s a werewolf. As a “dog”, she figuratively (and literally, if not explicitly) rolls over for the most dominant person in the room. As a human, she loves Carrot for his goodness, his sweetness, his doofiness. As a human, she can also choose her master, even if the choice is partly subconscious, just as love always is. Put together werewolf submission and human affection, and you’ve got one powerful love story.
Today, I went into the kitchen to fill my glass of water. K was there, washing dishes. He shook his head and laughed.
“When I’m sitting down, you usually sit down with me for however long I’m sitting. Then I get up to do something else and you’re suddenly in the same room with me, getting in my way. Why is that do you think?” he asked.
I thought of the dog I had growing up. Unless she was totally wiped out from a long day of romping in the snow, she would follow the humans wherever they went. This was particularly pronounced when I got home from school: she had to be in whatever room I was in. Then I thought of Angua, who seems to somehow always know where Carrot is.
I remembered the night before, when K had ordered me into bed at 2 AM, then ordered me to get on my hands and knees so he could fuck me from behind, and I couldn’t figure out whether to come until he told me to. I said, “I guess you’re right when you call me your bitch.”
