#forest god skull
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Unexpected Benefits of Becoming a Swamp Witch (2)
AO3 link for those who prefer to read fics there
Chapter 1
Finally, here's the promised fluff!
At over 12k words, this is, by quite a bit, my longest ever chapter. If I wasn't so determined to have this be the final chapter, I definitely would've spilt it up, because this was a chore to get through. It feels like I've been writing this forever, and I've honestly gotten just a little bit sick of it by this point. I also think this chapter might've driven me just the tiniest bit insane, but that's fine. I'm just SO glad to have finally finished it!
I've got a cold right now, and my head hurts, so I'm not sure exactly how I feel about this chapter. But I'm pretty sure that if my head were clearer, I'd be incredibly proud of what I've managed to get out. This was a lot of hard work, and, personally, I feel like it's paid of. Of course, you, the reader, are perfectly entitled to feel differently. I'll leave it up to you to decide, but I hope that this chapter was worth the wait, and that you enjoy it.
Skull and Forest God Au belong to @llamagoddessofficial
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Chapter 2: Living with the Consequences
I was wrong. Very wrong.
His interest in me did not, in fact, diminish in the following days, months, or even years. Quite the contrary – his feelings for me only grew, exponentially, over time.
And slowly, subtly, surprisingly... so did mine.
~~~
It was getting late, and my two familiars had left to go hunting, so I decided to put off all thoughts of the infatuated Wetland God, and what I would do about him, ‘til the next day. The tree hollow wasn’t the most luxurious of bedrooms, but it was cushioned on all sides by an abundance of pillows and blankets, so I would at least be comfortable and warm throughout the night. Besides, I’d slept in rougher spots than this during my travels, and I had honestly been expecting far worse for my first few weeks here, until I could build my own witch’s cottage.
Trying to ignore Skull’s besotted expression, I turned my back to him and dug through my satchel, searching for some rations I’d packed for my dinner. My hands fell upon a large, wrapped package, still warm and smelling strongly of honey. I gave a start, as I recalled the honey cake I’d baked, as an offering to the Wetland God. With all the excitement and confusion of the day, I’d completely forgotten to give it to him.
Daring a peek over my shoulder, I caught a glimpse of Skull’s red eyelight, shining brightly in the growing gloom of the evening, its pupil still heart-shaped. His mouth was stretched in a wide smile, soft and sappy, in spite of the wickedly-sharp teeth lining his jaws.
I looked back at the cake, feeling that crimson gaze continuing to burn a hole in my back. If I gave Skull the cake now, he might take it as a sign of my ‘affections’. My brows furrowed, indecision gripping my mind. It wouldn’t do to encourage the deity’s attention, flattering though it may be. But still...
I chanced another glance at him. He was still staring at me, adoration written all across his skull and radiating from his magic. His face brightened when he noticed my gaze, his magic buzzing excitedly in the air. I hastily looked away.
He’d definitely be happy to receive my offering. I pursed my lips, as I imagined the joyful expression he’d likely make, how much more electrified his magic would become. Given the horror stories I’d been told by the townsfolk, I was certain that Skull hadn’t received an offering in years, if not centuries. He really would be happy if I were to give him one now.
I sighed heavily, my shoulders falling, before I drew myself back up, my face set with determination. Skull had shown me nothing but kindness since I arrived in his domain. The very least I could do, was to show him a bit of kindness in return, and give him the cake that I’d already baked for him. Firming my resolve, I grabbed the honey cake with both hands and marched straight toward him.
Skull shifted from foot to foot as I approached him, looking for all the world like a gigantic, skeletal puppy, eager for his owner’s attention. I cleared my throat and held out the cake, uncovering it to show him what I’d brought him.
“I baked this for you, Skull, as an offering. It’s a honey cake. I hope it pleases you.” I offered him a polite smile, showing none of the doubts plaguing my thoughts, and braced myself for what I assumed would be an overzealous reaction, given how he’d acted so far.
But I received no such reaction. In fact, I hardly received any reaction at all.
Skull stared at my cake with a strangely blank look, the widening of his eyelight being the only indication of the shock he seemed to be experiencing. His mouth opened, but after a few seconds without a word being said, it closed again, only to reopen several heartbeats later.
After a minute of watching Skull’s muted gawking at my cake, I could stand the awkward silence no longer. “What’s wrong? Do-... do you not like the cake?”
That finally got a reaction, as Skull’s head snapped toward me. “NO!... no... i... i... i love it... so much... it... thank you... i... thank... you...”
Then, to my utter horror, large tears started gathering along the corners of Skull’s eye sockets, eventually tipping over and dripping down his skull. Panic clawed at my chest, as the God of the Wetland continued to cry, a low, keening whine filling the air.
I shifted the cake to one arm, and used the other to stroke Skull’s wet muzzle. “There, there...” I murmured to him, as comfortingly as I could, with only the slightest edge of panic to my voice. “Oh dear, please don’t cry, sweetheart...! It’s all right, there’s no need for tears. Please, Skull, eat this cake. I baked it especially for you!”
I held the cake out once more, a pleading smile on my face. Skull’s tears finally seemed to slow down, although they didn’t stop completely. He sniffed loudly, then nudged me, very gently, with the tip of his snout.
“i can’t... eat this... it’s a... gift... from you... it’s too... precious... to eat... i will... cherish it... forever...” he insisted, voice as wobbly as his red eyelight.
I huffed a sigh. “It’s a cake. It’s meant to be eaten! That’s why I baked it.” I barely held back an eyeroll, exasperation leaking into my voice.
However, Skull refused to budge. The tears still steadily falling down his skull didn’t seem like they’d stop any time soon, so out of desperation, I finally told him, “Fine! I’ll bake you more cakes! If you eat this one and cheer up, then I will definitely bake you all the honey cakes you want in the future. Okay? Please?”
That seemed to give him pause. Skull stood in silence for a few seconds, contemplating my offer, before he finally nodded his head. “all... right... if that’s what... you want... and if you’ll... give me... more... you will... give me more... right...?”
I instantly nodded to him. “Absolutely! Lots more cake, just for you! And anything else you want me to cook for you!”
In hindsight, that was probably a reckless vow to make, one that could easily be taken advantage of. Still, Skull seemed satisfied, and his weeping finally ceased. He opened his mouth wide and looked at me expectantly. Getting the message, I tossed the entire cake into Skull’s gaping maw, and watched it snap shut. I neither saw nor heard any chewing, but the Wetland God made several appreciative sounds, which soon devolved into more purring.
Crisis averted, I sighed, my shoulders sagging. I’d come dangerously close to making a promise I wasn’t fully certain I’d be able to keep, and I’d probably only reinforced Skull’s troublesome expectations of me and our relationship. I was really beginning to regret offering that stupid cake to him.
And yet... as Skull continued to purr, his magic humming in contentment, I couldn’t deny the warmth blooming in my chest. An involuntary smile curled onto my face, at the deity’s blissful expression. As I’d expected, he definitely was happy to receive my offering.
~~~
The next morning, I awoke to the beautiful singing of songbirds. Snuggled in warm blankets and soft pillows, I yawned, languidly stretching out my body. Feeling refreshed and well rested, I opened my eyes, ready to greet the new day.
And was greeted, instead, by Skull’s massive head, staring at me from the hollow’s entrance, his single ruby eyelight fixed unblinkingly on my face.
I suppressed a flinch, as memories of the previous day came flooding back to me. Right. I had yet another admirer to deal with. One I couldn’t dismiss as easily as I could all of the previous ones. Forcing away the urge to bury my head beneath my blanket and go right back to sleep, I dragged myself out of my cosy nest and got up.
Skull perked up, leaning his head toward me to nuzzle me, with a gentleness belying his tremendous size. The glow of his red eyelight softened, beginning to shimmer, the pupil once again becoming heart-shaped.
Reflexively, I reached out to pet his muzzle, receiving a purr in return. I probably shouldn’t have been indulging the Wetland God like this, but something about his earnest desire for my affection was too endearing for me to resist. Skull let out several cute little chirps, in between his constant purring, and unable to help myself, I leaned forward to wrap my arms around his wide snout as best as I could. The purring only intensified at the hug.
“Good morning, Skull,” I mumbled against his bones. I didn’t ask him whether he’d been stood there, staring at me all night, just silently watching me sleep. I was afraid of the answer.
“yes... it is!... such a... very... very good... morning... with you... here with me...” he rumbled back, his deep, gravelly voice managing to sound incredibly tender, and full of joy. “i’ve been... all alone... for so... so long... but not... anymore... not now that... i have you...” He beamed at me, his eyelight practically sparkling in its socket. “i’m so... happy... i love you... so much... my wife... my mate... my love...”
He sounded so sincere, so genuine, as he spoke of his ‘love’ for me, that I couldn’t prevent heat from spreading across my cheeks. I pressed my face to Skull’s, trying to hide the flush in my cheeks, feeling more embarrassed than I had in a very long time. I’d never blushed before, like some shy, simpering girl-child. It was undignified. Mortifying. And utterly unbecoming of a powerful sorceress.
Stepping away from Skull, I turned my back to him and cast my eyes all around me for something to focus on, beside the sad, pitiful whine of a lovesick Forest God. However, there was nothing to see in the tree hollow, except for the piles of blankets and pillows, and the various little human trinkets strewn about the place. This simple den was also unbefitting of a powerful sorceress.
Mind made up, I faced Skull again, and announced my intentions. “Skull, while your nest is very, uh, charming, it’s too small and basic for a witch like me to live and work in. I need a proper home. Would you happen to know of a spot where I may construct for myself a witch’s cottage?”
The Wetland God didn’t look too happy with my request. He fidgeted, pawing lightly at the thick tree roots, eyelight dimming, and let out an anxious-sounding whine. “but... nest is... for mate... you can’t go... somewhere else... mate must... stay in... our nest...!”
His fidgeting got worse, and a few of the flowers on his legs and horns wilted. I bit my lip, unsure how to convince him to let me leave, without him getting too upset. Forest Gods were creatures of instinct, first and foremost, and the last thing I wanted was to trigger Skull’s more possessive instincts. Suddenly, he lifted his head, his eyelight shining brightly with hope.
“i can... make nest... better...for you...!” he eagerly proposed. “i can... make it bigger... can change it... for you...!”
I hesitated, feeling sceptical about his idea, uncertain whether his magic was stable enough for such complicated alterations to the giant tree, but his pleading expression was hard to deny. With a resigned sigh, I nodded my head.
“Very well, I accept your offer,” I conceded, to which he beamed at me, his eyelight almost glittering within his eye socket. “I’ll assist you with my own magic, of course. Together, we should hopefully be able to fashion a suitable house out of this tree.”
I tried to inject as much confidence into my voice as I could, if only to dispel my own doubts. Skull looked excited and relieved, shifting his considerable weight from foot to foot, his large head swaying slightly.
“yes...! together...!” he agreed, very enthusiastically.
Then, tossing his head back, Skull let out an ear-splittingly loud bellow, shaking the ground and the trees with the force of his roar, and causing the water to ripple outwards. I covered my ears, shrinking back and away from him.
The Wetland God’s magical aura spread out from him, filling the air, and coating the surrounding area, concentrating on the giant tree in particular. As the ancient and powerful Nature Magic seeped into the tree, it started growing, its branches lengthening and its trunk thickening, the hollow expanding along with it.
I retreated to Skull’s side, to observe the transformation. It wasn’t... exactly what I was hoping for... But it was a start. Filled with determination, I sent out my own magic, entwining it very carefully with Skull’s, and guided his wild magic to where I needed it to go. Skull’s magic responded eagerly, if clumsily, to my direction, and together, we slowly shaped the tree into a form more suitable for my needs.
I smiled to myself. Yes, Skull and I would be able to make this tree into a home. Together.
And over the next several days, we set about doing just that.
It took a lot of time, work, and dedication, but the two of us devoted ourselves completely to the lengthy and arduous task of transforming the giant tree into a treehouse (or rather, a tree-cottage). At the end of the day, I was often magically drained, both from having to guide Skull’s chaotic and untamed magic, and from having to cast various spells for the more delicate and finicky adjustments, as well as physically exhausted, from the manual jobs that magic could not accomplish. But I was also incredibly proud of our achievement.
We were making steady progress, and I knew that soon, much sooner than I had anticipated, I would have my forever home.
~~~
A cottage was not all that I required, however. At my request, Skull raised a sizeable chunk of land above the water, beside the den, to serve as my garden. The soil there was fertile and saturated in potent Nature Magic, so anything that was planted in it was sure to thrive. On top of the usual fruits and vegetables, I’d also planted various flowers and herbs for potion-making.
Additionally, Skull kept encouraging moths, bees, and other pollinators to visit my garden. The bees, in particular, gave me an idea of how I could express my gratitude to the Wetland God, for all of his invaluable help. It took me most of an afternoon, but I managed to craft a large, wooden apiary. Then, I used an insect charm to lure a queen honey bee into settling inside it.
After a few of days, and many enchantments, I had a rapidly growing colony of bees, to help pollinate my garden, and to produce honey, which I then used to bake cakes and other sweet treats for Skull. I had told him that I would bake him more honey cakes, after all. Thankfully, his reactions to my offerings weren’t as alarming as his first one, even if he was no less delighted, each time I gave him one. Moreover, I also discovered that the Wetland God was especially fond of warm, freshly-baked bread, soaked in honey.
Occasionally, though, I’d come across a flower in my garden which I was certain I hadn’t planted myself. They were always vibrantly colourful, but were otherwise completely useless to me and had no beneficial properties whatsoever. It seemed obvious to me that Skull had grown them, likely as an attempt to please me. While I did appreciate his thoughtfulness, I didn’t want useless flowers taking up room in my garden, so I removed them each time I spotted one.
Nevertheless, I didn’t have the heart to just toss away Skull’s gifts. I could only too easily picture the look of heartbreak he’d give me, and it made my chest ache, for reasons I couldn’t explain. It was frustrating, and almost made me want to throw away the flowers, just to spite the feeling. However, I merely put Skull’s flowers in one of my taller chalices, one made out of clear crystal. I placed the makeshift flower vase by one of the windows I’d recently installed in the side of the tree, and it made for an aesthetically pleasing sight, if nothing else.
It didn’t take long for me to run out of space for the flowers, though, and I had to get a little creative about where to stuff anymore I kept finding. I was sorely tempted to ask Skull to stop growing flowers I didn’t want in my garden, but the thought of his disappointed expression made me hold my tongue. It was just a minor inconvenience, anyhow, and certainly not worth complaining to an Old God about, especially not one as emotional as Skull.
One day, however, one of Skull’s flowers did manage to catch my eye. It was a rare blossom, and toxic if consumed, but its pollen was used in many regenerative potions, so I decided to let it stay in my garden. I even gathered some of its seeds, to grow more of this valuable specimen. Skull had evidently noticed my interest in this particular flower, as the next morning, I found more of them growing in my garden.
From then on, each time I showed any interest in a specific flower, by the following day, more of them would have appeared. This then extended to any herbs or fungi I found in the swamp, and brought home with me. Furthermore, whenever I caught an insect or other small critter for my potions, or collected ingredients from the local wildlife, such as those alligator teeth I’d been eyeing that first day, I’d come across even more of them afterwards, as I explored the swamp.
Skull was clearly always paying attention to me, and his attentiveness warmed my heart more than I cared to admit. And he was never overt or demonstrative with these gifts, either. While he was very open about his feelings for me, and never hesitated to declare his love for me or to nuzzle me, calling me his “wife” and “mate”, his gifts to me were always subtle, and he never drew attention to them, as if he were shy about giving them to me directly.
And I never thanked him openly, either. Despite appreciating his gifts more than I ever had anyone else’s, the thought of expressing my gratitude to him so plainly, so sincerely, left me feeling a little too... vulnerable. So instead, I baked him more cakes. And biscuits. And pies. And whatever else I thought he might enjoy.
And each time I would give them to him, he’d have the most heartfelt look of joy and wonder on his face, in spite of his lack of facial muscles, and his magic would thrum so happily, so excitedly, that it felt like an even greater gift than all of the flowers in my garden.
~~~
The plants and other potions ingredients weren’t the only present Skull would leave for me, however.
The Wetland God kept coaxing pretty insects and colourful birds to the area around my home. While Artemis enjoyed playing with the insects, especially the dragonflies, much to their distress, Hermes didn’t take kindly to the other birds showing off on what he now considered his territory, and never failed to chase them all away the moment he spotted one.
Skull seemed more than a little downhearted about that. But he never complained, or tried to stop my familiars, and instead, kept attracting more visually appealing wildlife to my home, in the hopes that I would appreciate them. Well, I appreciated the effort, at least. For being such a fearsome and often violent Forest God, who had killed countless humans in the past several centuries, he could be surprisingly sweet.
Besides his other, natural gifts, Skull also started leaving me shiny trinkets and glittering jewellery. I was initially baffled as to where he could’ve possibly gotten these man-made objects from, before discovering the answer from one such present.
One of the rings was especially ornate, with a large, glimmering gemstone in the centre, surrounded by smaller, clear jewels, which I presumed to be diamonds. More interestingly, though, I noticed that it bore an inscription on the inside, which read “To R, with everlasting love, C”. I realised, then, that Skull had taken all of these items off of the intruders he’d drowned in the bog.
I shrugged, and tied a string to the ring, hanging it up from a nearby branch, where it caught the sunlight and sparkled magnificently. Waste not, want not, after all. Besides, it wasn’t like these items’ original owners would need their things anymore.
Skull looked pleased, when he noticed that I’d made use of his gift. I found more jewellery the next day. It took a while to wash off the mud and tar still stuck to them, but they made very beautiful decorations for my new home.
~~~
One thing I couldn’t help but notice, regarding Skull, was that throughout my time in the swamp, I’d often spot him conversing with alligators, or various marsh birds. I couldn’t understand what they were saying, obviously, and it left me intrigued.
Hermes was the one to enlighten me, when I voiced my curiosity. He’s asking them for advice. On how to woo you.
Well that was a surprise.
And also... rather adorable.
Sitting on the lip of wood at the entrance to my home, I glanced over at Skull. He seemed to be watching very intently, as a heron cawed loudly at him, spreading its wings and extending its neck, displaying its plumage, and snapping its bill rather aggressively. I stifled a laugh as Skull proceeded to rip a branch off of a nearby tree, and presented it to the heron, who then nodded at him, apparently deeming the Wetland God’s efforts satisfactory.
I shook my head, unable to keep the smile off of my face, as fondness settled itself in my heart. He really was adorable, sometimes.
Still smiling, I turned to my familiars. “Has Skull ever come to you two for help, or advice on how to, heh, win my heart?” I asked them, although internally, I suspected I already knew the answer. As well as exactly how much help Skull would’ve received from them.
Hermes bristled his feathers. He has. I refused. I would never betray Mistress’s secrets.
Artemis didn’t even bother to look up, as she groomed herself meticulously. He did... I ignored him...
I snorted, my smile turning wry. Just as I thought. No help whatsoever.
But then I paused, as a curious thought came to me. What would it take to win my heart? Countless people had tried, for most of my life, all without success. Not a single person had come even close to earning my affections. I knew, then, what didn’t work. But I’d never given a thought as to what would.
My brows furrowed, as it suddenly hit me that I had no idea what would make me fall in love with someone, no idea what would be able to finally melt the walls of ice I’d erected around my heart.
A shadow suddenly fell over me and I looked up.
Skull was standing in front of me, just outside the entrance (thankfully, without the tree branch, stars knew what I would do with it). I was getting much better at reading his expressions, and I could tell that he looked troubled. His magical aura was tinged with want and frustration and worry.
I reached up to pet his snout, dragging my nails gently along hard bone, and he calmed down immediately, his magic settling into a pleasant hum. “What’s wrong, Skull?”
The giant creature let out a low, unhappy sound, and pressed his nose into my touch. “want to hold you... want to hug you... want to cuddle... soft wife... but can’t... like this... too big... might hurt you...”
I wanted to coo at him, because that was so cute, and so like him, but I managed to restrain myself. Instead, I gave him a commiserating smile and pet him harder. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You are just a bit too big for cuddles, I’m afraid.”
His face fell and, unable to resist the urge, I leaned forward to place a kiss to the end of his snout.
His red eyelight lit up like a bonfire and his magic buzzed. The tension in his gaze intensified considerably, and he seemed to be focusing very hard on something. I could sense his magic condensing, his vast, powerful aura compressing and compacting in on itself. I gave a start, as Skull’s form shimmered, and then gradually began to shrink and mutate.
When everything had settled, Skull stood before me, not as a gigantic, monstrous Wetland God, but as something a lot smaller, and lot more... humanoid.
I gazed in awe at Skull’s new form.
His magic was too unstable for him to assume a fully human form, so instead, he appeared to be a huge, hulking, humanoid skeleton. His bones sported many chips and cracks, including a particularly big, jagged hole on top of his skull, a testament to his damaged psyche, but he was still altogether whole, and in one single, solid piece. The clothes he wore were ripped and ragged, their colour faded, but looked very soft, and even a little fluffy.
Skull’s expression was strained, his stance awkward, but the smile he gave me was tentatively hopeful. “it’s... hard... for me to... contain... my magic... in such a... small body... but now i can... hug you... please?... wife??”
There was nothing I could say to such an earnest request, besides, “Of course you can, dear.”
His expression brightened immensely, his entire body practically lighting up with joy, and I spread my arms invitingly. “Come here, Skull.”
Without wasting a single second, he stumbled towards me and wrapped his big arms around me, drawing me close to his broad chest and nuzzling the top of my head. Despite being much smaller than before, he still easily dwarfed me, and I was almost smothered by his hug. Still, I couldn’t find it in me to complain, or pull away.
His embrace was tight, and so very new and unfamiliar to me, but it was surprisingly gentle, and warm, and soft. Pressed up against him like this, I felt small, and delicate, but so, so precious.
With his magic brushing against me, radiating tenderness and affection, his rumbling purrs vibrating through me, and his strong, solid body all around me, I felt myself relax, leaning back into his hold. I practically melted in Skull’s arms, a delicious warmth seeping into my heart.
I felt so cherished, so loved. It was a wonderful feeling. One I never wanted to let go off.
~~~
Eventually, all of mine and Skull’s hard work paid off, and my tree-cottage was finally completed.
The original hollow had been expanded into a spacious, circular living room, complete with a fully-functional kitchen and dining area. Some stairs along the wall led to a second floor, which I’d designated as my study, and my potion-brewing space. The walls were all fully lined with shelves, completely taken up by either potion ingredients, magical instruments, or ancient tomes, as were the many desks and tables spread out wherever possible. A massive cauldron took pride of place in the centre. Another set of stairs was squeezed in amongst all of the magical paraphernalia, leading up to my bedroom, which also served as my observatory.
All in all, I was extremely satisfied with what the both of us had managed to accomplish, in such a short amount of time.
To celebrate, I baked another honey cake. Skull enjoyed the cake, while I enjoyed having a proper home, at long last. Even my familiars were pleased with our new living quarters.
It finally felt like the beginning of a promising, peaceful new life, the kind I’d always been longing for. And, for the first time since I’d stepped foot in the wetlands, I could finally say with complete confidence that I’d made the right choice, all along.
I was... hopeful. And... happy. Skull was happy, too.
The future was looking bright.
~~~
Now that I’d fully settled into life in the swamp, and completed construction on my tree-cottage, I decided it was time I got myself officially registered with the local Mage’s Guild, so that I could begin accepting clients and contracts again. A witch needed to earn a living after all, and I was getting bored and restless, without anything pressing to do.
Skull was predictably upset about my leaving, but I’d managed to convince him that it was important to me, and, after many, many reassurances that no, I wasn’t leaving him forever, and yes, I would definitely return to him, the clingy deity finally relented and allowed me to leave.
He still kept begging me to reconsider, though. I hadn’t thought a dog skull could look that sad and pitiful, but Skull always managed to surprise me, in the most unexpected ways. Truthfully, it was almost enough to make me give in to his pleas, but I firmed my resolve and pushed on.
The Old God escorted me out of his wetland, moping the entire way, and howled miserably when I finally stepped outside of his territory, and flew off into the horizon on my broom. His mournful wails followed me for a long time.
~~~
The headquarters of the Mage’s Guild were, naturally, within an ancient and massive castle, centred around a tall and imposing Sorcerer’s Tower. The accumulated, residual magic of generations upon generations of sorcerers saturated the entire area, sinking into the ground, and seeping into the rune-covered stone walls of the castle. You could practically taste the magic in the air.
It was a heady feeling, being in such a remarkable place.
Given what an eminent witch my mother had been, I was instantly welcomed into the Guild, and directed to go present myself officially to the Guild’s Master, while my familiars were taken to be registered in the Magical Menagerie.
The Guildmaster was a mage of very few words, and shrouded in mystery. They were widely regarded as being a sorcerer of considerable skill and power, second only to my late mother, and had quickly risen to the top of the Guild within only a handful of years. While their achievements were universally acclaimed, precious little was known about them personally, beyond the fact that they’d forsaken much in their pursuit of arcane and esoteric knowledge.
Even their own name.
They were also the only human, in the entire world, whom I respected, and even admired.
~~~
My registration was completed swiftly and efficiently, as was expected of someone as competent as the Guildmaster. They spoke coolly, and without inflection in their voice, as they questioned me on my magical abilities and specific talents. That, coupled with their calm, impassive demeanour, gave very little away regarding their thoughts.
It was honestly a bit intimidating, being in their presence.
But also, incredibly fascinating.
When the interview came to an end, I stared pensively at them, as they gathered all of their materials, with precise, economical movements.
“Have you ever been in love?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
I bit my lip, shocked at myself. What had possessed me to ask the Guildmaster such a personal question? And why on the subject of love, of all things?
The slight widening of their eyes, and the stuttering of their movements, were the only indications that the Guildmaster had heard me. They carried on with their task, as before, putting away all of their things in various trunks and desk drawers. As always, their inscrutable countenance, and deep, impenetrable eyes, gave nothing away.
The silence stretched on, until it got very uncomfortable, and just as I was about to open my mouth to apologise and change the subject, the Guildmaster finally gave me an answer. And it wasn’t the one I’d been expecting.
“Once. Briefly. Years ago,” they revealed, their voice as emotionless as ever, despite the subject matter. “But we had... differing priorities. So we parted ways.”
To say that that came as a surprise to me would be an understatement. The Guildmaster was well-known as an individual singularly focused on the pursuit of knowledge, who cared very little for anything not relating to their magical studies. They’d discarded all earthly attachments, and had immersed themself so fully in their research and their craft, that it was rumoured that they were now more magical spirit, than flesh-and-blood human.
Moreover, mages were solitary people by nature, generally choosing to remain isolated from the mundane for our own safety, and only coming together with fellow sorcerers to conduct trade, or to exchange knowledge we deemed important enough to share with the wider world. We otherwise kept mostly to ourselves, passing on our craft and family magics from mother to daughter, or from father to son.
I would never have guessed that one of the most mysterious and reclusive sorcerers in the world, would have ever sought companionship, let alone love. I honestly thought they were beyond such needs, or desires. Although, it seemed that, in the end, they were.
“Do you... ever regret it?... Any of it?” I couldn’t help but ask the Guildmaster, my voice quiet and unusually hesitant.
For a split second, I could’ve sworn I saw a brief flash of emotion flit across their face, but it was gone before I could be sure. I dismissed the thought. It was probably nothing more than a figment of my imagination.
“Regrets are pointless,” they affirmed, voice even as ever. “To dwell on the past, is to squander the present, and to sacrifice the future.”
They fell silent, and I thought our discussion over. But suddenly, they turned to me and fixed me with an oddly serious, and meaningful stare. “Which is why, no matter what you do, no matter what you choose, above all else, make sure that you do not regret your decisions.”
Unable to do anything else, I nodded. Seemingly satisfied with my response, they turned away, and the conversation ended there.
~~~
With all of my business with the Guild concluded, I prepared to take my leave, anxious to return home again. New witch’s licence in hand, I went to collect my two familiars from the Menagerie, and then retrieved my broom. Just before departing, however, the Guildmaster themself came to see me off.
“I am glad for the chance to have met you,” they told me, catching me off guard. I truly hadn’t thought that they would care about my presence here, one way or another. I still didn’t have quite the same reputation my mother had, after all. “You look well. And you seem happy. Good. It is what your mother would have wanted.”
And with those final, perplexing words, the Guildmaster disappeared back into the central Tower. I stared after them for a while, unsure what to think about our bizarre interaction, before I shook my head, banishing the encounter from my mind, and sat myself on my broomstick. Once Artemis was snuggled safely in my bag, and Hermes was securely perched on my hat, I then rushed us home, as fast as my broom could carry us.
I had a lonely husband to return to.
When I finally reached the Wetland, I kept flying, eager to get back to my home as quickly as possible. As I soared over the wetlands, though, I saw that most of the greenery had withered, and much of the landscape had been taken over by bog once more. Not a single flower remained. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest, at seeing how much my presence had clearly been missed.
Skull was there to greet me, before I had even made it to our tree-cottage nest. He called out to me, a sharp, high keen, his magic filled with excitement and overwhelming relief. I descended at once, and hoped off my broom, landing right on top of his massive head. Without pause, I immediately crouched down and threw my arms around him, pressing my lips to his skull in a firm kiss.
The air crackled and sparked with his magic, like electricity, sending tingles down my spine. Tiny flowers bloomed across Skull’s antlers, along his legs, and on the trees all around us.
“never... leave me... again...” he begged me, his voice trembling with emotion. “please... please don’t... ever leave me... alone... please... promise me that... you won’t... please...”
There were a million things I could say to that. But, for the first time in my life, I listened to my heart. “I won’t, Skull. I promise.”
His answering smile was all I needed, to know that this was one decision that I definitely would not regret.
~~~
There was one last, major decision left for me to make. A decision that would change my life more than any other I’d ever made. A decision that I could not afford to regret.
With a steaming cup of herbal tea in hand, I took a seat in front of the largest table in my study, and observed the ruby-red stone sat upon it with a critical eye. It was a rather innocuous-looking rock, about the size of my fist, transparent and glass-like, and coloured a deep, dark red. The average, non-magical human would probably assume it was nothing more than a hunk of coloured glass. But anyone with any magical ability whatsoever would be able to tell, at a glance, exactly what this stone was, and just how precious it truly was.
This was a Philosopher’s Stone.
A stone capable of transmuting base metals into gold, and which could produce the Elixir of Life, a mystical, miraculous potion able to cure any illness, heal any injury, and which could grant the drinker eternal life and youth.
It was, perhaps, my mother’s greatest achievement, or, at least, one of them, and was certainly her Magnum Opus as an alchemist. She’d dedicated years of her life to creating this legendary artefact, and when she’d finally succeeded, it had earned her untold fame within the magical community, since previously, only three other people had ever managed to create one. Mother had even gone on to share many of her findings with the scholars and researchers at the Mage’s Guild, in the hopes of furthering magekind’s understanding of alchemy, and its vast and innumerable possibilities.
She’d taken the Stone with her when she’d left the Guild, to go live a quiet life in an enchanted forest, after becoming pregnant with me, and I’d inherited it when she’d passed away. Neither of us had ever used it, though. We’d both been competent enough witches to accomplish all that we wanted to, without it. Mother hadn’t created the Philosopher’s Stone out of any great need or desire for its incredible properties. She’d simply done it to prove that she could.
But now, I did have a use for it.
A noise from outside drew my attention to one of the windows. With one last glance to the Stone, I tore my eyes away from it, and stood up. My feet carried me over to the window, and I looked outside, my lips automatically tilting up into a smile at the sight below.
Skull was returning from his patrol of the outer edges of his territory, and the swamp’s residents were welcoming him back. Hermes was hovering above him, having accompanied him on his patrol, but when my avian familiar spotted me, he gave a sharp cry to the Wetland God, before flying towards me. I hastily opened the window, just in time for Hermes to swoop in. He circled the room a few times, before finally landing atop one of the bookshelves.
Looking out the window again, I saw that Skull had noticed me as well. His happy expression was plain to see, even from this distance, so I waved to him. He called back to me, his deep, powerful voice making the water ripple, the leaves tremble, and my heart shudder in my chest. I gave him another wave, and a smile, before retreating, back to the Philosopher’s Stone.
I still had a decision to make.
Much had changed since I’d first stepped foot in the wetlands. I now had a home, a proper witch’s cottage to call my own, and I even got on fairly well with all of my new furry, feathery, and scaly neighbours, mostly thanks to Skull’s influence. All in all, I’d settled into life in the swamp far better than I’d ever dared hope for. This place was my home, and I never wanted to leave here.
Even my familiars had settled surprisingly well into their new life in the swamp. While Hermes still chased away any birds who dared venture too close to our home, he’d come to accept Skull as my mate, and even joined the Wetland God on his patrols. I’d often see the tan owl flying beside Skull, or perching himself on the deity’s huge horns.
Artemis, on the other hand, still hadn’t warmed up to Skull, and was content to simply ignore him most of the time. I’d assured a dejected Skull that it wasn’t anything personal, and that the black cat was just very independent, and preferred to keep to herself. Heck, she still wasn’t overly friendly with me, her master.
My feline familiar had finally grown to like the wetlands, however. When she was not curled up on a pillow at home, Missy was often out wandering the swamp, exploring her new territory, usually on the back of whatever poor alligator she’d somehow managed to bully into giving her a ride. While the humans were terrified of the God of the Black Wetland, it was my own black cat whom those actually living in the wetland had grown to fear.
But by far the most significant change, was my relationship with Skull.
I’d originally believed that Skull’s feelings for me were nothing more than a temporary infatuation, brought on solely by his crushing loneliness, and his desperate desire for companionship and love. The deity had been all alone, for centuries, after all. It was no wonder he’d gotten so attached to me, so quickly. But I’d assumed that once the novelty of my presence had worn off, his feelings for me would fade away and disappear.
But I had eventually realised how wrong I was.
The gigantic God of the Wetland had only grown more affectionate towards me over time, which was saying something, considering how obsessively he doted on me ever since we met. He was caring, attentive, thoughtful, and the most devoted creature imaginable. His love for me was evident in every action he took for me, every word he said to me, and every look he gave me. All of my doubts as to the sincerity of his feelings for me had long since vanished, in the face of his unwavering devotion to me. I was loved, and I knew it.
As for my own feelings towards him... they’d evolved, in ways I could not have anticipated. I’d grown to appreciate Skull, and all that he did for me, and cherished his fondness for me. I... cared for him... more than I ever thought possible. More than I ever thought I was even capable of, in all honesty. He made me feel things I never thought I could – warm things, gentle things, tender, soft things. Emotions both terrible and wonderful.
Without my realising, Skull had managed to sneak his way into my heart, and had made it his own.
Heavy footsteps from the floor below alerted me to my guest. I abandoned my musings, and made my way to the ground floor of my home, to go greet my husband.
Skull had once again taken his smaller, humanoid skeleton form, despite how difficult it was for him to maintain, so that he could enter my home safely. He was clearly here for more cuddles. And I was more than happy to oblige him.
As soon as Skull caught sight of me, his face lit up and he beamed at me. His movements awkward, and clumsy, in such an uncomfortable body, he stumbled towards me, arms wide open to receive me. I met him halfway, all but throwing myself into his embrace. Skull’s strong, thick arms encircled me, drawing my close, and pressing me tightly to his clothed rib cage. I wrapped my own arms around him, and smiled up at him.
“Welcome back, dear,” I greeted him, in a warm, tender voice I reserved just for him.
Skull’s already wide smile widened further, his single red eyelight shining brightly. He leaned his head down to nuzzle his face into my hair, low, rumbling purrs echoing from deep inside his chest.
“i... missed you... wife...” he mumbled into my hair, so close to my ear it sent pleasant shivers down my spine.
“I missed you too, husband,” I murmured back, removing one arm from around him, to raise it up to Skull’s face. I placed my hand on his cheekbone, my thumb rubbing gentle circles on his hard bones, and Skull eagerly leaned into my touch.
“you’re so... soft... and warm... and perfect... you smell... so nice... i love you...” he purred into my hand, the pupil of his eyelight becoming heart-shaped with adoration.
My smile softened, an impossibly tender feeling warming my heart, and spreading throughout my chest.
“I love you, too,” I whispered to him, and before he could react, I pulled his head down towards mine, leaning my own face up in tandem, and pressed my lips to his.
Skull froze, his entire body going still and rigid, before his arms tightened around me. Sharp phalanges dug into my skin, almost to the point of pain, but the skeletal deity managed to restrain himself just enough to avoid harming me. With a fierceness that took my breath away, Skull deepened our kiss, his mouth moving against mine with a passion I hadn’t known he was capable of. Small, colourful flowers bloomed all across his body, covering up every crack and every hole scarring his bones, and even filling up the large one on his skull.
As I closed my eyes, and surrendered myself to the emotions swelling within my chest, and the love in Skull’s kiss, I knew that I’d already made my decision. And that I wouldn’t regret it.
I had promised Skull that I would never leave him, after all.
~~~
Time passed, as it always did. But since it no longer affected me, I paid it no mind, and focused instead, on the joy of living.
My life now was peaceful, blissful; sometimes tranquil, sometimes exciting, but always satisfying. My days were full of love, and happiness, like I’d never known, nor dared to dream of.
I was happy. My mate, and husband, was happy. My familiars were happy. Even our wetland home was flourishing, thanks to Skull’s steadily improving mental health, and his overflowing positive emotions.
Everything was perfect, and it seemed like it always would be.
I truly believed that I was living my best life, and that there was nothing at all that could make it better.
...
And then I became pregnant.
~~~
Discovering that we were going to be parents was more than a little overwhelming. For the both of us. Skull had been all alone, without anyone, for centuries, and I wasn’t much better in that regard, either. Neither of us were very confident that we would be up to the challenge of raising a child.
Those early days were tumultuous. Skull’s instincts went haywire, and he frenziedly tried to make our nest as safe and as comfortable as possible. He added even more pillows and blankets to the tree-cottage, until I could barely walk in my own home, and temporarily banished all of the alligators from the swamp. While Skull knew, on an intellectual level, that the poor reptiles would never hurt me, his protective instincts would not allow any large predators anywhere near me, his mate, while I was with child. The alligators were, understandably, very upset, but had begrudgingly obeyed.
Consequently, the marsh and bog had become even more dangerous for humans to traverse, even as both became more vibrant and alive, thanks to Skull’s huge increase of positive emotions.
Not that I was able to appreciate any of that, however. Given my delicate state, I wasn’t allowed to leave the heart of the swamp. I’d expected that, truthfully, but it was nonetheless mildly annoying. While I had rarely travelled far from the swamp to begin with, I still missed being able to collect potions ingredients, travelling the wetlands with my mate, either riding on his head, or with Skull trailing close behind me like a baby duckling. But a Forest God’s natural instincts could not be denied.
There was one major benefit to my pregnancy, though – Skull made a real effort to use his smaller, humanoid form more often, in spite of how uncomfortable it was for him. Our cuddles were becoming more and more frequent, which more than made up for everything. Being able to hold my husband close to my chest, and feel his arms around me, was worth any inconvenience I had to put up with.
My tree-cottage had also undergone some notable changes. Skull and I had constructed an extra room, attached to the main living area on the ground floor, which would serve as our child’s bedroom. It wasn’t very aesthetically pleasing, and made the giant tree look lopsided at the bottom, but I didn’t want our child to have to pass through the potentially dangerous study/potions area, just to reach their bedroom.
Skull had already started stuffing piles of blankets and pillows inside the new baby room, leaving barely any room for the child’s cot. I let him, reasoning that it was better that he do so there, than elsewhere in the cottage. I’d had to put my foot down, when my mate had tried to blanket my study.
Besides the living arrangements, preparing for our new arrival came with some rather... interesting challenges. All owing to the fact that neither of us knew what species our child would be.
This was because, while mages were considered humans, we were, technically, actually a sub-species of human. As such, we differed from ordinary, non-magical humans in a variety of ways, most notably our ability to use magic. Another difference was that, whether or not a child born to a mage was one themself, all depended on both the magical parent’s biological sex, as well as the child’s.
To be precise, a female child born to a witch would always be a witch, and a male child born to a wizard would always be a wizard (barring any future decision to change one’s sex). Otherwise, the child would be of the same species as their non-mage parent. In my case, that meant that I would either have a witch daughter, or a Forest God son. And neither of us would know until much later on in the pregnancy. For now, though, it was a mystery.
The prospect of my impending motherhood was both terrifying... and exciting.
Furthermore, as my pregnancy progressed, and the life within my womb kept growing, unknown emotions started taking root inside my heart. Feelings of love, both soft and tender, yet also powerful and all-consuming, swept over me with a ferocity which threw me off guard. I never thought that I would feel so completely and utterly devoted to, and protective of, a person who hadn’t even been born yet.
But as my belly swelled with new life, so too did my heart swell with emotion, as I fell more and more in love with this impossibly tiny, and precious creature I had yet to meet. And I wasn’t the only one caught in our baby’s spell.
Skull adored our child from the very moment he became aware of their existence. Despite how overwhelmed he was, and how out of our depths we both were, he was still beyond overjoyed to become a father. The Wetland God was completely obsessed with the tiny life growing inside me, and would frequently stare at my belly in wonder, as if not quite fully able to believe that there was a child in there, his child. It made him all the more endearing in my eyes.
Whenever he was in his humanoid form, Skull would place his hands so delicately, so hesitantly on my belly, and just leave them there, for as long as I would let him, desperately trying to feel his baby growing within me, and be as close to them as he could. And when the baby started to move, those touches became near constant. As inconvenient as it was, having Skull practically glued to my belly, seeing his face light up with pure joy and awe, each time our baby kicked, was more than worth it.
My husband also became even more attentive than ever, and did everything in his power to see that my needs were met. He kept making sure that I was comfortable, and happy, panicking whenever my “morning” (ha!) sickness acted up, and almost never left my side if he could help it. If there was something I wanted, he would try his best to get it for me, and had even learned to cook very simple meals, helping me around the house and the garden, whenever and however possible.
As for the things he couldn’t do, my familiars were more than capable of handling those. Both Missy and Hermes were frequently sent out to go fetch whatever food I was currently craving, with a note, a small bag, and some money clutched in their mouth or talons. Hermes was particularly adept at this, given how he was always the one who delivered the potions I brewed, to my clients.
Whenever my familiars weren’t out getting me supplies, they were either hovering protectively at my side, or were hanging out in the baby room, eagerly awaiting the little one’s arrival. Both had taken a keen interest in my child, even the normally aloof Artemis, and had appointed themselves my baby’s future protectors. A duty they both took very seriously. It was reassuring, knowing that I could always count on their support.
All in all, my pregnancy was progressing relatively smoothly, and all of us were greatly looking forward to welcoming the baby into our lives. We all already loved the child, so much, and yet we knew that our love for them would only grow stronger as time passed.
~~~
With all of these changes happening in my life, the one I least expected was how I’d begun to think about my mother again. I hadn’t thought about her much, if at all, ever since arriving in the wetlands, but now that I was about to become a mother myself, my mind would often turn to my own, late mother.
They weren’t even born yet, but I already loved my child with every fibre of my being. There was absolutely nothing that I wouldn’t do for their sake, and I was constantly thinking of ways I could ensure that they would live a healthy, happy life. I wanted only the best for my baby, and would do anything to achieve that.
All of a sudden, I could understand how my mother must’ve felt, when she was pregnant with me.
I could understand, only too well, just how desperate she must’ve been to make sure that I would not suffer the same fate as her. I could sympathise, only too keenly, with her fervent wish to see me loved and admired, by those who had hated and feared her. It was with startling clarity, that I could see exactly why she did what she did. A mother’s love was a powerful, and terrifying thing indeed.
And with that understanding, came a willingness to forgive.
The resentment I’d held in my heart, all these years, finally started to fade away.
I was finally ready to talk to my mother.
And so, on the night of the next new moon, at precisely midnight, I performed the ritual to summon Mother’s spirit from the afterlife, and bind it to her skull.
When it was done, I stepped back, and took a deep, fortifying breath, steeling myself for what was sure to be a very trying experience. It was never easy, talking to Mother, and I hadn’t done so in years. I was more nervous than I thought I would be.
When the hollow sockets of Mother’s skull lit up, those eyelights travelled around the room for a few tense seconds, before eventually settling on me.
“So, you’ve finally decided to talk to me, have you? Well, better late than never, I suppose.”
I reflexively hunched my shoulders at the chastising tone of her familiar voice, feeling like a young child once more, being scolded by her mother. I stood up straighter in defiance of that feeling, trying to dismiss it from my mind and my heart. I was an adult now, and soon to be a mother myself.
“It has, indeed, been a while, Mother.” I inclined my head to her, in acknowledgment. “I’ve been... busy, since last we spoke.”
Mother’s eyelights roved across my form, coming to a halt on my protruding abdomen. Her eye sockets widened.
“So I can see! It seems you’ve finally deigned to let someone touch you. Will wonders never cease?”
I pursed my lips, resisting the urge to rub my forehead, and soothe the ache I could feel building behind my brow. Instead, I raised my hand and gestured to Skull, who stood anxiously by the tree-cottage's entrance, his massive head peeking inside.
“Mother, I’d like to introduce you to my husband, the Forest God of these wetlands.”
Skull bowed his head in greeting, giving Mother a rather nervous-looking smile.
“hello... mate’s mother... nice to... meet you...”
Absolutely gigantic, monstrous-looking, shrouded in the darkness of a moonless night sky, and illuminated only by the glow of fireflies, and the crimson light of his eye, Skull made for quite the intimidating sight. But Mother only gave him a dismissive “hm” in response, her eyelights flitting across his features, before they returned to me.
“I’m not surprised, honestly,” she sniffed. I could practically see the shrug she was unable to give. “I always knew you’d never fall for an ordinary human.”
I had nothing to say to that, really.
Mother then turned her attention back to Skull.
“So then, what’s your name, big fella?” she asked him, her tone more casual than it had any right to be.
“Mother!” I hissed at her. “You can’t just ask that of a Forest God! It’s rude!”
The animated skull raised one of her brows, looking utterly unrepentant.
“So what?” she retorted, unabashedly. “What’s he going to do? Kill me harder? Is there another level of ‘dead’ I didn’t know about? If so, I’d like to see it. Should be an interesting experience.”
I sighed heavily, feeling my shoulders sag. This was going to be a long night. Turning to Skull, I gave my husband an apologetic look.
“Sorry about Mother. Please pay her no mind, love.”
I heard Mother harrumph behind me, but I ignored her, focusing only on my mate’s face, looking for any sign that my mother’s words had upset or angered him. But I found none. Instead, Skull was staring at Mother with what was unmistakably awe written all across his features.
“mate’s mother is... brave... and... spirited...” he remarked, sounding impressed. He then turned his head towards me. “just like... you...”
I wasn’t sure how to feel about such a comparison.
Mother gave Skull a broad, toothy grin.
“Yep. Girl’s always been headstrong and wilful, just like her mother,” she practically boasted.
I wasn’t sure how to feel about that, either.
Then Mother’s grin turned wry.
“It's a real wonder she’s never gotten herself into any serious trouble yet. As far as I’m aware of, at least.”
I was sure how to feel about that, however.
Affronted, I glared at Mother.
“Hey! I’ll have you know that not a single person I’ve met has ever had a bad word to say about me!”
Mother looked decidedly unimpressed.
“Of course not. They’re all too mesmerised by your beauty,” she rebutted. “A beauty I gave you, no less.”
The reminder of what had always been more of a curse to me, than a gift, stung. I shot her a baleful glare.
“I’m more than just a pretty face. So much more,” I insisted, tone carefully flat. Internally seething, I crossed my arms, my fingernails digging into my skin. “I’ve already made quite the name for myself, and the Mage’s Guild were most impressed with my talents.”
Mother snorted.
“Pah! The Mage’s Guild! That lot are nothing but a bunch of bootlickers and stuffy bookworms,” she sniffed, tone full of mocking condescension.
I bristled, offended on the Guild’s behalf, even though, secretly, I’d thought much the same about them myself.
“How dare you, Mother! The Guild is a prestigious institution!”
Mother rolled her eyelights. “Prestigious my arse.”
I gasped, utterly appalled at her foul language. “Watch your tongue, Mother!”
She shot me an incredulous look. “I haven’t got one, you daft child.”
At this point, I was about ready to hurl Mother’s skull out the window, and pray that it sank to the very bottom of the swamp, but I managed to restrain myself. Just.
Then, Mother’s eye sockets narrowed.
“Say, is that miserable old wanker still in charge?” she enquired, the slightest hint of bitterness in her voice.
My jaw dropped, as I gave her a scandalised look.
“Mother! You can’t talk about the Guildmaster that way!”
But she only scowled – an especially unnerving expression given that she was nothing but a skull.
“Bah! They’re nothing special,” she sneered, derision clear in her expression and her tone. “None of that lot are, in the Guild. In any Guild. I’ve been to many, all around the world, but they’re all the same, each one full of nothing but useless cretins. I was glad to be rid of them, when I left.”
Her shameless and irreverent behaviour was more than I could bear, especially not with a baby on the way, as well as with my sweet and soft-hearted husband having to play witness to it all. Abandoning my self-restraint and all pretence of decorum, I buried my head in my hands, letting out the biggest, long-suffering groan I could.
Skull nudged me, ever so gently, making soft, worried sounds, and I uncovered my head, to stroke his snout comfortingly, wanting to ease his concerns. His big, red eyelight gazed at me consideringly, assessing if I was truly all right, and I gave him my best reassuring smile, which seemed to satisfy him.
Meanwhile, my mother was giving me her own, scrutinising look. Her eye sockets narrowed in concentration, as her eyelights scanned me, something sharp and calculating in her gaze.
“I see you’ve managed to find a use for my old paperweight,” she remarked blandly.
I ran a hand over my face, massaging my temple in aggravation.
“Mother, the Philosopher’s Stone is a valuable artefact of unparalleled importance! It should not be used as a mere paperweight!”
But as usual, my protests fell on deaf ears. Mother was as impertinent as always.
“Well it’s not like that lousy rock was good for much else. Besides, it’s really bloody heavy! I could hardly lift the damn thing!”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, mentally counting to ten, as I took deep, calming breaths. From within my womb, my child gave a hard kick, successfully dragging my attention away from my infuriating mother, and towards my darling baby. I rubbed my belly, trying to soothe my child back to sleep, and felt them settle down once more.
Skull nudged me again, more insistently, concern shining in his face and emanating from his magic.
“are you... okay...? is baby... okay...? can i... help...?” he asked me softly.
My husband’s earnest concern and care for me never failed to warm my heart. I smiled back at him, running my hands along his muzzle in gentle caresses.
“I’m fine, thank you, Skull,” I assured him.
He leaned into my touch, as desperate for affection as ever, and I couldn’t help but indulge his adorable, needy side, with more pets and a kiss to the end of his snout.
Sadly, the tender moment was ruined, and my attention was ripped away from my sweet, loving mate, and pulled back to my irritating mother, when she spoke up once again.
“Oh, so that’s his name, is it? Skull? A little uninspired, but I suppose it’ll do.”
I was close to tearing my hair out in frustration and exasperation.
“Mother! Please! Skull is both my husband and a Forest God. Try to show him at least some respect!” I practically pleaded with her, for all the good I knew it’d do.
Mother raised a browbone at me, completely unaffected by either my words or my tone.
“The living show the dead respect, not the other way around, you silly child. Besides, Skull is my son-in-law, and I’ll not treat him any differently than I would any other family member.”
Skull’s eyelight lit up like a beacon, even as the edges got fuzzy. He appeared to be on the verge of tears, as he gave Mother the most heartfelt look of wonder and gratitude.
“mate’s mother... accepts... me...?” he mumbled, voice low, and thick with emotion. “i’m... so... happy... thank... you...”
I was a little stunned at how Skull had managed to only see the positive in what my mother had said, but more than anything, I was relieved. So long as my beloved was happy, I could overlook the rest.
Even Mother seemed a little taken aback. She blinked, her eye sockets slightly wide, before she collected herself.
“You’re welcome, dear,” she told him, voice uncharacteristically sincere. “I can tell that you make my daughter happy, and that’s all I could ask for.”
The hard edges of her skull seemed to soften, and she smiled at me, one of her very rare, genuine smiles.
“I’m glad that you have someone who loves you, especially during this difficult time. I’m glad that you aren’t alone, like I was.”
That left me truly speechless. I honestly had no idea how to respond to such heartfelt words, coming from my mother of all people.
“I- I-, um...uh... Thank you, Mother...” I eventually forced out, fiddling with my fingers, and shyly averting my eyes, unable to meet my mother’s gaze.
It was sobering, being reminded of how much hardship my mother had had to endure. As far as I could tell, she’d always been alone. When I was a child, I’d never once seen her be close with anyone, and there was never any sign of her having any friends or lovers, let alone a spouse. The only companionship she had, was myself and her familiars, a black cat, a sparrowhawk, and a viper.
As a child, I’d occasionally wondered about my father. But my mother’s stony expression, whenever he was mentioned, had stayed my tongue. It wasn’t worth dredging up unpleasant memories, just to sate my meagre curiosity. My father wasn’t around, and that was all that mattered, in the end.
But now that I was about to become a mother myself, I realised how fortunate I truly was. I was grateful that I would have Skull’s love and support to rely on. I was thankful that our child would have both parents to nurture, care for, and protect them. Words could not express how much I appreciated how blessed I was, to love and be loved in return.
As if to confirm my thoughts, Skull nuzzled me, purrs reverberating from deep within his massive chest.
“not alone... never alone... you have me... always...” he promised me, tone overflowing with adoration and devotion. “i love you... i love you so... so much... i will be... with you... forever... i will... never leave... you... my precious mate... never...”
Familiar warmth flooded my chest, my heart constricting with a love of unfathomable depth. I hugged my husband’s huge head as close to me as I could, and pressed several lingering kisses to his snout.
“I love you too, Skull,” I whispered against his face. “And I’ll never leave you either. We’ll always be together.”
The Wetland God let out a deep, guttural, grating sound.
“yes... together... forever...” he agreed, the pupil of his single eyelight transforming into a little heart, as he smiled lovingly at me.
Watching our affectionate display, Mother’s lipless mouth curled into a sly grin.
“Oh, so it’s that kind of relationship.”
Drawing back slightly from my husband, I frowned harshly at my mother.
“Whatever you’re thinking right now, Mother, stop it! This instant!” I bit out, through gritted teeth.
Mother chuckled, a teasing glint in her eyelights.
“Now, now, child, don’t fret, I won’t judge."
“Mother!!”
~~~
The sun was low in the sky, only just starting to dip below the horizon, dying everything a soft pinkish-orange hue. As our surroundings darkened, fireflies began making their appearance, their soft glow blending in with the will-o'-the-wisps shyly peeking out from behind the trees – an increasingly common sight, now that Skull was no longer the same violent, lonely Bog God he was before I arrived. The air was filled with the buzzing of insects, the distant croaking of frogs, and the gentle sloshing of water, as some aquatic creature broke though the surface.
It reminded me of when I first arrived in the swamp, hoping to make my home there.
The peaceful atmosphere filled me with the sweetest nostalgia, and I reclined back in Skull’s arms, sinking further into my husband’s embrace behind me. In response, the transformed deity’s arms tightened around me, his hands continuing to stroke my swollen belly, as he began purring once more. His magic practically sang, as it caressed me on all sides, echoing all of my mate’s love and happiness. Our baby also seemed to be relaxing, only giving the occasional kick to remind us of their presence.
Artemis was curled up on my lap, fast asleep, whereas Hermes was perched above us, on a nearby branch, keeping his usual vigil, regardless of how safe we were, in the very heart of Skull’s territory. Mother’s skull had been brought outside, and placed on the edge of the lip of wood at the entrance to my tree-cottage, where we were all resting. For once, Mother was blissfully silent, as she admired the beautiful scenery, and enjoyed the quiet tranquillity of the misty swamp at dusk.
My hands came up to settle atop Skull’s on my abdomen, lacing our fingers together. Skull gave my hands the very gentlest of squeezes, ever mindful of his great strength, and nuzzled his face into my hair. I could feel him take several deep breaths, likely inhaling my scent, and his purring got a little louder and deeper.
I wasn’t sure what the future would bring, or what challenges life would throw at us, but for this one moment in time, all was well. I was surrounded by my family – surrounded by all that I loved in this world. And I would hold this moment in my heart forever, and cherish it for the rest of my life.
...
~~~~~
...
Ten tiny fingers, ten tiny toes, and the cutest little button nose. My daughter was perfect.
I was exhausted. I was in pain. But I had never been happier.
After nine months of carrying her in my womb, and many hours spent bringing her into the world, I finally held my daughter in my arms.
I was utterly entranced, as I gazed down at her with all the love in my heart and soul, feeling indescribable warmth flood through my entire body. She was so perfect.
My daughter was, for all intents and purposes, a human – a witch, like me. But her Forest God blood would likely affect her magical core in unpredictable ways. She would almost certainly have powerful, if highly unstable magic, just like her father. It would be up to me to teach her the discipline and control necessary to harness that wild, chaotic magic.
She would definitely have a very difficult path ahead of her, if she wished to master her magic, as I, and my mother, had. But if becoming a great witch was something that she wanted, then she would always have my support, and I would do all in my power to help her, in any way I could. And even if she had no interest in developing her abilities to their full potential, she would still, always have my love and support.
As well as her father’s.
Skull was hovering by my bedside, very clearly wanting to come closer, but seemingly too afraid to do so. His magic was a turbulent tornado of emotions; fear, excitement, hope, joy, love, all warring together in his soul, as he gazed down at our baby. I knew he was too overwhelmed by his emotions, to be able to hold our daughter, and would need some time to calm himself down, so I just cradled our child close and made sure that Skull had a clear view of her.
The Wetland God was almost entirely covered in tiny, vibrantly colourful flowers. While his brilliantly glittering red eyelight was fully focused on the newborn baby in my arms, his other eye socket was bursting with little marsh flowers. Furthermore, there was a veritable bouquet sprouting out of the gaping hole in his skull, and, all in all, my mate was practically a living flower sculpture. He was adorable.
I looked back down at my daughter. They both were.
I was so lucky, so blessed, to have such a wonderful family.
My life hadn’t been easy, and the road to getting to this point had been long and winding, and fraught with many obstacles. But I wouldn’t have changed a thing. Every choice I’d made may not have been the best one, but they all, eventually, led me to here, to this moment, and I was glad for it. This moment was easily the happiest of my entire life, and was more than worth every single hardship I’d ever suffered. I had no regrets whatsoever, not anymore.
Choosing to become a swamp witch really had been the best decision of my entire life.
_______________________________________________
There's only the epilogue left, but it's mostly a just a fun little bonus chapter for those who've read and enjoyed "Good Girl Needs Kiss", so this fic is basically finished now.
I really wish my head were a little less fuzzy and achy, so that I could actually think clearly and give this fic the send-off I feel it deserves, but this cold has been dragging on for a bit, and I've been writing this for too long and am way too impatient to finally get it out. I've had a lot of fun writing this, but I'm happy to put it mostly behind me, and finally move onto something else. I'm not sure when the epilogue will be out, maybe soon if I'm really impatient, or maybe not if I want a break.
By either way, I'm taking it easy for a bit. Once the epilogue's done, though, I'm definitely going to be focusing on more Frans stuff, because I really miss writing it.
=> Epilogue
#JMB writes#skull x reader#forest god au#forest god skull#reader is a witch#skull is baby#they both get lots of love and cuddles#fluff#so much fluff#more characters!#who don't get as much screen time as I'd like#but also too much at the same time#why did every single part of this chapter take twice as long to write as it should've??#I cannot stress enough that this whole fic was supposed to be SHORT
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Murintr, custom monster design commission by Katrin Buttig
This artist on Instagram
#art#illustration#digital art#dark art#horror#fantasy#macabre#creature design#skull#antlers#deer#surreal#forest god
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Could you please give us some Bog God Skull fun facts? 🥺 Also… how can one swoon this bog boi?
~BOG GOD SKULL FUN FACTS~
His favourite food is honeycakes. He hasn't had them in a while.
Sometimes, when he isn't patrolling or sleeping in his den, he likes to find a deep section of water in his marsh and just... wallow.
Though he doesn't like people, he does like the sound of talking.
Birds will occasionally nest in his antlers. When they do, he tends to settle down for a little while, until the chicks fledge. It's nice to have the company.
The plants that grow on his body are small, and seem plain, but upon closer inspection they are ancient species that are have often been long extinct. Little ferns and patches of moss, the occasional tiny flower. Leaves that haven't seen the sky in eons.
He sneezes when he's excited
Skull will avoid the husks of old trees, that scatter the dead bog. It's one of the few ways a hunted human might evade him. The dead trees bring back painful memories of his old home- he can't bring himself to knock them down, but he can't bring himself to look too long either. Tuck yourself close enough to a dead tree while being chased, and he might just leave you be.
You can actually tell how Skull feels about you based on the insects you encounter in the bog. Mosquitoes and gadflies indicate the simmering hate he generally feels for all humans. Non-stinging gnats- neutral feelings, you're a bit better than the others. Dragonflies and crickets... hey, he might have started to actually like you. 'Pretty' insects near you, like damselflies, butterflies and beetles? Woah, you definitely got yourself an admirer, he's showing off. And if any of them land on you that's a sure sign he wants your attention.
... If you're encountering birds, small mammals, or amphibians... be careful. You have a husband now.
Now... as for wooing him...
He's shy, when he catches feelings. He can look a bit spooky, hiding nearby in the fog... but try to remember, he's hiding, not hunting. You're a pretty human and it makes him nervous.
Though nothing planted by human hands can survive on his land, he'll still like it if you do try to plant something. It soothes his ancient anger, somewhat, to see that there are humans who are nothing like their ancestors. Attempting to plant things is a good way to gain his affections.
If you've already tried planting something, and it dies, you might find other things growing in the dead plant's place. Boggy flowers and shrubs, well suited to the area... thriving in the spot you made.
(He put those there. The prettier the plant, the more he likes you.)
A better way to gain his affections, though, is food offerings. Leave them anywhere in the bog, he'll find them. Remember, his favourite is honeycakes- though he likes anything baked, soft or sweet. If you're baking for him, it's best to stick to older and simpler recipes; newer looking things might confuse him.
Try singing, while you walk through the bog. Or just talk to yourself. As mentioned before, he likes the sounds of people, and he likes the sound of a pretty human singing even more.
Don't turn around, if you hear him following you from a distance. He's just taken an interest. Keep walking- there's a reason he's hanging back.
It's okay to pick up the pace if you're nervous, but don't run. It hurts his feelings.
Showing appreciation for his bog will woo him, too. Enthusiasm about the plants and animals is especially effective. If you can find beauty in such a 'horrible' thing, he might welcome you into parts of his home nobody has ever seen before.
... He can get childish, when in love. Age doesn't necessarily equal wisdom. Try not to travel through the bog with other people, he gets jealous and cranky. Your friends will be swatting away clouds of aggressive flies.
#llamagines#forest gods au#skull: i like this human a lot. to show my affection i will show them: a frog#mc: Woah!! A froggie!! I love frogs!#skull: ... they are perfect
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#AAAAAAAAAAAAA FUCKFUCKFUCK#CONDTANT UNENDING SILENT SCREAMING#NO WORDS BUT FORCED TO UNDERSTAND STILL UNESCAPABLE I CANT I CANT I CANT#ill never be anything ill never be anything ill never be anything at all to any of you#too fucking tired to go out of the house for so long no way to stop being tired its all wearing down on me like a fucking curse. too much#CANT CANT CANT take 10 more days of this waiting itll just go back to normal after#TRIED TO LIVE BUT WHAT IS THE POINT WHAT IS THERE EVEN FOR ME NO LOVE NO CARE NO IMPORTANCE NO PLACE#FADING MEMORY REMNANTS OF MY SOUL DRIPPING OUT OF MY HEAD LIKE A GUTTER. NO ONE WILL REMEMBER. EVEN I CANT.#AAAAAAAAAAA rotrotrotrotrotrotrotrotrot wish i just had a fucking dad to hold me wish i had a brother to show me the loving care noone will#please. llease. please. nothing left nothing left everyone wants me less with every single post but icant stop#cooped up inside. tumblrs knly good when you have a life outside of it. i cant fight it tho bc of this fucking EXHAUSTION#caused by the emotional pain and exclusion. eternal loop. let me.out#NOT LIKE IT MATTERS TO ANYONE BUT THE FEW WHO CANT HELP. THE FEW WHO CANT MAKE MY SITUATION BETTER. I JUST WANT A GROUP.#I KNOW COMMUNITY ISNT REAL BUT I FUCKING WANT SOMETHING. PLEASE#LET ME OUT. GIVE ME LIFE. INSTEAD OF THIS CONSTANT FUCKING VOID GROWING BLACK MOLD ON THE CREVICES OF MY SKULL#aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa nothing is giving me life right now i want sometbing i cant create anything i dont wanna die but i have no choice#FIGHT THROUGH THE TIREDNESS WALK INTO THE FOREST IN THE NIGHT AND ROT.#SLIT MY WRISTS EVEN THOUGH IT WONT DO SHIT. LAY ON A BLANKET AND LET THE COLD TAKE ME#WOULDNT BE THE FIRST TIME IVE BEEN CLOSE TO IT. LEAST I CAN GO ALL THE WAY. GOD WHY DO I TRY. I WANT TO TRY. I HAVE NOTHING TO TRY FOR.#NO OTHER CHOICE.
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Sacrifice Chapter 3
<< Chapter 2
<<< Chapter 1
A/N: After a bit of schedule maneuvering, it looks like this story will be updated once every two weeks until I finish it (I still don't have an estimate one the chapters yet oops). Thank you all for your patience and I hope you enjoy!
Standing underneath a levitating tree has my nerves on end. Up close, it's more massive than anything I could imagine, tall enough to reach the clouds, wide enough for my home to fit inside twice over. The magic that keeps it afloat must be grand and ancient.
As we walk under the behemoth, I see the underside is pockmarked by rings. It sits so high that Aurelius can walk underneath unimpeded, but I feel a pull in my chest to reach out and touch the marks, to make sure I'm not caught up in an illusion.
There's thousands upon thousands of them, a lifetime spiraling outward through delicate circles that mark the eons. The dark rings of a fire, then the swollen sections of a flood, the sun-bleached cambium and rich heartwood towards the center. I'm awestruck by the majesty, the history of it, and terrified all at once.
Appearing as if through a fog is a spiral staircase, invisible one moment and in front of me the next. The banister is a filigree of plantlife rendered in wood, thin to the point where I see sunlight through the petals of a flower. It leads straight up, where warm light pours forth from a circular opening. The light is warm, inviting, and I think of a predator, luring me in with false hope only to eat me up. Perhaps I'm still shaken from the fae earlier. I can still feel their fingers pinching my skin, my ears still ring from their voices. Will his home be the same?
Ignoring the litany of images my mind throws at me, of emaciated bodies reeking of death and decay, of hovels filled with rats and sludge that seeps into my skin. I ignore the image of the house slowly swallowing me, integrating my body into its walls over a matter of years while I am helpless to stop it. I ignore all of it, and walk up into the tree.
With shaking hands I poke my head through the floor, and find not a den of fear, but a grand entry hall. It's rendered in stone, torches lining the archways that stretch all the way to the back. I half-expect to see colored glass windows that I'd find in the town church, but the windows here are simple. In fact, everything has been stripped to the bare essentials, save for the massive chandelier made of bones acting as centerpiece.
Stepping onto the floor my bare feet are warmed by the stone, but the air is cool against my face. Long tables meant to seat dozens line the left and right walls, covered by table runners colored a rich red and edged in gold. They're bordered by high backed chairs, made for someone of Aurelius' size, and I wonder if I'd feel like a child sitting in one. There's a single set of silverware and cutlery at the far end of the left table, shining and untouched. It's the most ornate set I've ever laid eyes on, the gold it would fetch alone would feed my family for a year.
Aurelius makes a noise of recognition behind me. "So this is the entry way that she chose."
She? Is there another human here? The fae who tried to kidnap me implied that he had brought more than one human here. Aurelius takes one look at my expression and his jaw opens halfway as if he means to smile.
"My home, sweet doe." He rests a hand on one of the long dining tables. "She is a fae, as old as I am."
That is all the explanation I'm allowed it seems, because he walks past me and off to the right without a word. My face pinches in confusion-- there's nowhere to go, he's going to run into the wall.
Except it's not a wall that greets him, but a doorway. A doorway stretching into a hallway that shouldn't be possible. It should stop, should hit the edge of the tree, at the very least it should lead outside.
But I follow him into a long hallway, around a corner and into a sitting room that looks completely untouched. The furniture is plush and there's a roaring fire I can feel from the doorway. The room branches into three, and Aurelius walks into the far one.
The hallway twists like rope, and my eyes widen when Aurelius continues walking and it leads him to the ceiling and back to the floor. I take a step forward, and another, and it's like the pull of the earth shifts as I move forward. My feet stay on the ground, and down becomes up. My hair doesn't fall to the side, even as the frame of a door creaks under my feet. I make it to Aurelius, my heart in my throat, and look up at him. He stares down at me, his head tilting slightly, and my face flushes. I grab his large hand in both of mine, and we continue forward.
***
Despite trying to trace my steps, I cannot wrap my head around where we are. The hallways are endless, the stairs lead in circles, and so many doors simply open to walls. All the while, Aurelius continues forward, allowing me no space to breathe, to process my surroundings.
The home is lit by faerie fire, a soft glowing flame bathing every room in warm, comforting light. Orbs of light bounce along the ceiling like insects, or lines the walls or baseboards in strips, or simply floats in the air like a candle held aloft. Shadows are soft, shifting things that catch my attention. I look for some demon or creature that would grab at me, but there's nothing. Just the two of us. Three, if the house counts.
I'm led through archways made of water, upside down stairways, halls of mirrors and glass, each dwelling more fantastical than the last. Despite the growing absurdity though, I'm not as overwhelmed as before. The home exudes an aura of calming, of welcomeness. I don't know where I am, but I don't feel lost.
After the thousandth set of stairs, I ask through heavy breaths. "How high does your home sit?"
Aurelius pauses, his hands clasped in front of him. He tilts his head to one side, considering me. "I've never been to the topmost level. You are welcome to try, but beware that the higher you climb, the more chaotic it becomes, and even I may not be able to find you."
"Chaotic?" I look around us. We're currently standing sideways, on a set of stairs above a reflecting pool on what should be the ground. Fish swim in the air around us, a koi swirls lazily around my feet. "What could possibly be more chaotic?"
Aurelius holds up his hands, gesturing grandly as he speaks, "As a tree splits into many branches or a mind into many thoughts, so too does this dwelling separate from reality as it climbs towards the sky." He looks down at me. "And I would hate to lose you, my dear."
I purse my lips. That was far too eloquent to not have been practiced. Aurelius is pressing his hands together, steepling his fingers, his head still turned on me as if expecting a reaction. He most certainly had that prepared.
"Eloquently put, my lord." And my suspicions are confirmed when he lifts his head, chin held haughtily as he continues up the stairs. My lips tug into a smile. Very cute.
The stairs lead us to a hall, and at the end a single door.
"The house has told me she has not prepared a room for you yet, so you can stay here while she works."
Before I can ask how he speaks with the house, Aurelius pushes open the door. Inside is a library, towering in stature, holding thousands upon thousands of books. There's several corners cut out for reading with couches and cushions, as well as a large fireplace.
"A…library?"
"Your temporary room."
I bite my lip around the next question as we both step into the room. Some part of me had hoped we'd…share a space. I thought he cared for me, wished for me to be around.
"This is…where you want me?"
But as I look around, I'm not so sure. Every corner, piled high on the floor and on tables and covering everywhere one wouldn't walk, is clutter. Books, clothes, fabric, papers and writing utensils, empty cups, and even more books, all over.
I rest my hand on the arm of a couch, looking at the mess with dismay.
He doesn't make any motion other than to look around the room. "This will do for now. I use this room most."
"Oh," I say.
Aurelius doesn't respond, and when I look to him for direction, he's standing where he came in. His hands are in front of him, his fingers interlaced, and he starts to glide back towards the door.
"Are you hungry?"
I frown, concern marking my features. "I…We just ate."
Didn't we?
"Right," he says, looking around, a hand coming to his bony snout. The air stales in my throat, turns awkward. He doesn't want to be here, he's trying to back out.
"Right," I slowly repeat back to him, watching as he creeps towards the door.
"I am going to…" He's standing in the doorframe now, leaving me here. I'd ask where he's going, but I don't want to bother him. Maybe he enjoys being alone, and I'd be a deterrent to that.
I push down the concerns that begin to build behind my chest. I don't do well alone, I thought he would stay. But surely a god has other responsibilities to tend to, he can't be spending all his time with a lowly farm girl.
I hold back my disappointed sigh, and give him a nod. "Goodbye, my lord."
As I turn towards the room, anything to ease the tension, the door closes gently behind me.
I need something to distract my mind. Looking around at the mess, my fingers itch to clean. Perhaps that's why he brought me, as a maid.
I start with the clothing, gathering it in my arms. It all smells clean, thankfully. Mostly shirts and pants, a cloak here and there. The cloak he wore to see me must have been for the cold then. All the clothes are from different eras, some pieces similar to what I'd see hanging in the church. Decades are laid out and tossed aside here, and I'm curious to know if he wore these things often.
My arms are full to bursting with items much too large for any human, when I realize there's nowhere to put it all.
I glance around to the empty room. "Um, H-House? Do you have, uh, somewhere I could put these?" I lift up the armful of clothes, looking around at the ceiling of the library, as if some face is just going to appear out of the grain. But the only response I get is the creak of the wood. I sigh, feeling rather stupid. Of course the house won't respond to me, she has no connection to me. Only Aurelius.
The scrape of something against the wood catches my attention, and out of the shadow pushes a basket. Flat, wide, and expertly woven out of the same material as the library walls.
"Can you, um, hear me?"
Placing the book back in its spot, I forget about it and continue attempting to organize the mess.
A book falls from a low shelf close to my feet. I'll take that as a yes. I dump the clothing pile into the basket and continue gathering what I can to place in it.
I pick up the book that had fallen and dust it off to inspect it, but I can't read the cover. The scrawl on the spine is too curly, too high-brow for me to make out. I had only just started to learn to read before Arthur got sick, and that was only in the dead of night with his help.
Picking up the clothes takes me at least an hour with the help of the house. I speak to her as I work, telling her of my previous life. Of my friends that all left for the city by the coast, my brother and my parents and our life on the farm. I was never ashamed of the hard work, in fact I took pride that I knew my way around the animals and the crops. She doesn't respond, and I feel more alone than before, but having something to do is a welcome distraction to keep from thinking about where I currently am.
Once the clothes are gone, I start on the loose items--papers and scrolls, inkwells and writing utensils. The scrolls have a curled writing similar to the book. It must be Aurelius' handwriting. Strange that such a hulking presence can have such delicate penmanship. I still can't read it, but I try to make out what I can to keep everything somewhat organized. I notice the words "festival" and "moonlight" are repeated quite a bit across the parchments.
I stand, self-consciously rubbing my arm. I hadn't seen any washbasins in here, or passed any rooms for them on my way in.
They seem to be plans for something. I pick up drawings, layouts of boxes ovals all lined up in order, with scrawled names and notations. There's lists with items crossed out, corresponding to several stacks pushed into a corner of the library. It seems like he's preparing for something, but I'm not sure what.
Only when the room is mostly clean do I sit down. My mind feels less foggy, a little more stable now that I feel like I can breathe. It allows smaller things to creep their way through my attention, like the dirt under my nails and on my feet, the sweat cooling against my dress, and the dried spill between my legs. I need to bathe.
I stand at the doorway, hoping Aurelius left it unlocked. The handle pulls easily and I'm greeted by an empty hall. It definitely wasn't the one we came in through.
"House? Where might I bathe?" I say to the empty room. She doesn't respond, only to shove the book off the low shelf again. I sigh, turning back to the hallway and starting it down. Stepping out of the library feels like a violation of some unspoken rule, but I'll do it if I must.
The first door I try opens to a small room filled with large smooth stones along the walls and floor. There's a huge window at the far end letting in the glow of sunset through, and below the window is a huge, oval-shaped wash basin built into the wall. It's made of varnished wood, stands up to my hip, and could fit three of me sitting side by side.
The space between the basin and the wall is filled with glass bottles of every color and size, some as small as my finger, others as big as my head. The light from the window hits the colored glass and refracts onto the walls, each bottle I pick up makes a tiny light flitter like an insect against the stone. I open a small bottle the color of honey and sniff, my senses filled with milk and sugar. None of them have labels-- not that I could read them anyway-- but I don't think this house would want to hurt me. I did clean up that room quite a bit, maybe this is her way of giving thanks.
The water is steaming as I strip and step into the basin. There's a small square of cloth I dunk into the water and use to scrub at my skin. I grab the honey colored bottle again, tipping the thick liquid into my palm. It lathers like soap when I rub it over the cloth, filling the room with the scent and making my skin slick.
Gradually, the dirt falls away, each pass of the cloth releasing tension I hadn't realized I'd been holding. The scent of the soap is relaxing, working in tandem with the hot water to loosen my muscles. I'd always been the last to bathe with my family, and hot water is a precious commodity. This feels like a luxury I can't afford, one I shouldn't put to waste.
I reach my thighs to scrub at the dried come, and pause for a moment. I'm not a maiden anymore, at least, not in this sense. I'm still unmarried, I think. I'm unsure what this arrangement with Aurelius constitutes as. The witches that live in the woods outside of town would howl with laughter if they knew, they might have even congratulated me.
I scrub it away, trying not to think of what happened. There's too many emotions involved, too many details. I can think later about the god that's given me his names and then left me alone to clean his house. I can think later about this messy place that is not my home but something else, something that will likely eat me if I anger her.
As soon as the water begins to cool, I get out of the tub, my mind no less clear than before. I look at my kirtle and shift with dismay. Both are a mess, covered in blood and dirt and sweat.
On instinct, I grab them both and throw them into the water, and immediately I realize what a stupid thing I've just done. This is my only dress. The kirtle alone will take hours to dry.
My head falls forward and I groan. "Idiot…" I chide. Well, it's already soaking, I may as well clean it best I can. Eyeing the bottles on the shelf, the one that grabs my eye is ruby red with a cork stopper. I uncap it give it a tentative sniff: Peach and honey, that'll do.
I pour some into my hand, and when it doesn't burn away my skin or make it turn purple or some other trick, I dunk it into the water, and the room layers with the scent of the soaps as I scrub the dirt out of my clothes. In such hot water, Mortimer's blood dissolves away, turning the water a brackish brown.
I try not to think about all that's happened in the past day, pushing back feelings too enormous for my broken mind as I scrub away the past several hours, but in the quiet, my thoughts bubble to the surface whether I like it or not.
Think about it later, Kyla. Later, later, later.
What's wrong with me? Making a deal with a god, and for what? He can take whatever he wants from me now-- for that matter he already has taken something-- he could condemn me to this house so I never set foot outside again. And this isn't my home, I think with dismay. Home is a place that takes any joy, any softness, chews it up and spits it out. This isn't my home, with it's baths and it's books and it's warmth. I haven't earned the right to live here.
And what comes next? Am I just going to live here, some sort of servant? A bed slave that also cleans? That wouldn't be the worst fate, but Aurelius never specified what my role would be, and it irks me not knowing. You don't make deals with fae, let alone one of their gods. And what do I have that he could possibly want? I need to remain useful to earn my place.
Once I'm done ignoring my feelings, I set the kirtle out to dry. The stones here are smooth and free of any dirt or grime, so I set the dress on the largest one I can find, fanning it out as much as I can so it dries evenly.
I'm left standing bare in the washroom, my hair plastered to my back and shoulders. I decide to test the waters.
"House? Would you happen to have any spare dresses?" Hopefully any other human Aurelius has brought back has left her clothes. I shudder to think of what he may have done with them.
From the shadows slides the basket of clothes I'd picked up earlier. Certainly these can't be the only clothes available. I wait for another basket to make itself known, but there's nothing. Just the steady dripping of water. Beggars can't be choosers, I suppose.
I sort through the clothes, many of which are too large for me, until I find a long shirt. The neck is high so it won't fall off my shoulders, the sleeves are cuffed so I can push them up, and it's long enough to reach my knees when I pull it over my head. This will have to do as my kirtle dries.
"Thank you," I say to the basket as I throw the discarded clothes back into it.
I find my way back to the library, hoping the house doesn't steal my clothes from me.
It seems to be a record of some sort, but I can't make out much of anything. A few numbers, a word, half of a phrase. The concentration proves to be what I need to finally pull my mind away though, and combined with the pattering of rain outside it makes my eyelids grow heavier with each page turn.
The library is cleaned enough, and I feel sleep begin to pull at my eyes. But my mind is still abuzz with thoughts, thoughts for later, so I need a distraction.
The book the house continued to push to the floor is still resting there, and I pick it up again and bring it to a pile of cushions underneath a massive window. The writing inside is the same looping scrawl on the cover, but there's sections of print that're more legible to my untrained eye. Night is beginning to creep in, but it's still bright enough that I can make out a few words.
***
The clap of thunder tears me from sleep and into full alertness. It's dark, the fire is gone, the only light coming from the moon through the window. The rain from earlier has transformed into a downpour, punctuated by lightning and thunder so loud it shakes the room.
Restless, I start to pace the floor, hands cupping my ears to mitigate some of the noise. I can't fall asleep like this, I can't even relax. If I had someone else with me, I'd feel safe, secure.
At home, I'd never been in a thunderstorm on my own. I had my parents, then my brother. It's a childish fear, I know it is, but I can't help it. Every shadow wants to jump at me, every flash from the sky makes me shake.
I curl into the cushions, squeezing my eyes shut and begging my racing heart to slow down. It's just rain, I know this, but what if it tears the house down? What if lightning comes through one of the windows?
I need to find Aurelius.
Exiting the room, I walk down the empty hall, again a different one than the first and even the second. The hallway is dark, lit only by the lightning flashing outside, so I'm feeling blindly along until I find a handle and push it open. The door swings open silently, and I step into the room.
It's a large room, probably as big as my home in the mortal plane, with high ceilings and crossing support beams. In place of the left wall is a stained glass window, the patterns forming some abstract shape I can't make out in the dark. On the far wall is a bed, four-poster and untouched, and an archway leading into a pitch black hall. The room seems empty, and I wonder why the house brought me here, when movement to the right catches my eye.
There's a loft, high in the ceiling, and inside is a nest made of branches and leaves. It's not like any bird's nest I've ever seen, it's spread and built up, integrated into the wall, clinging to itself and the beams, with structure coming up to wrap around and make an entrance.
The movement that caught my eye was inside, and through the darkness I make out the motion of breathing. That must be Aurelius.
I climb up the rafters to reach the loft, my hands shaking on every roll of thunder that pierces the glass. My heart thunders in my chest, and I nearly slip halfway up to the top. I carefully crawl on one of the rafters to this massive nest, and pause. Will he be upset with me for waking him? Will he lose himself in sleep and eat me? Another flash of lightning makes my choice for me, and I scramble into the safety of the strange nest.
It's like we're back at the altar; the whole nest smells like him-- pine and sage and everything in the forest. It's warm and comforting and safe. He's larger than I recall, laying on his side, away from me. His neck is stretched out and his head rests on the ground like a sleeping elk. I lay down, pressing myself into his back, curling my legs into my chest and resolutely watching the storm outside.
Aurelius stirs, voice almost too quiet over the rain. "Kyla."
"Forgive me," I whisper as I curl into his spine. I didn't mean to wake him up, I just wanted the company.
His large head lifts, turning on a long neck to face me. His skull is that same corrupted deer I know, but his body isn't human anymore, now more animal-like. "What are you doing?" he asks, voice heavy with sleep. The white of his skull practically glows against the dark, like a beacon for me to latch onto.
He extends his neck and in one fluid movement gently clamps his jaw over my shoulder, lifts me into the air and sets me down on the other side of his body.
I open my mouth to answer, but I'm cut off by a strike of lightning and instant clap of thunder. I jump at the noise, hiding my face in my hands. Shame burns hot through me alongside the fear, making my heart pound in my ears.
Aurelius only hums, almost a growl, the noise rippling over my skin like water.
My suspicions are confirmed-- through the darkness I can make out that he's morphed into a large deer-like animal with four legs curled under a long body. The back legs are so long they nearly brush his front as he brings his head around, pulling me into him. "You may rest here," he says.
I settle into the solid shadow of his body and the nest he's laying in. Despite being made of strips of bark and tree, it's got a layer of down feathers that make it soft. Aurelius is covered in a layer of short fur, and he's warm enough to sink into. The branch-like antlers atop his head are close to me, the silver veins catching the light when it flashes outside. I reach out and hold one in my hand, the stability working to drag me back into sleep.
Chapter 4 >>
#my writing#Sacrifice#sfw.#monster writing#skull creature#monster boyfriend#forest god#sorry for anyone who wanted a speedy updat on this#it's lookin like it's gonna be a bi-weekly thing because my god was this chapter hard to write#i scrapped it like three times because it felt boring#but i think (i hope) it sets up future chapters well enough to be necessary
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The🌿Forest God and his companion, The 🐺Wolf God
#ts4#the sims 4#sims 4#simblr#oc: john#oc: brian#oc pair: healing hands#simblreen#simblreen 2022#forest god au#wolf god!john wanted to be fancy#also gave me an excuse to use this cc#and some body scars#forest god!brian has more of a deer motif#i had the skull but it didn't quite suit him
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nari wearing a crocodile skull
#her antlers go in the eye holes#kiwifae says shit#the arcane order#nari#wizards toa#nari of the eternal forest#she deserved a skull she's literally a nature god#also crocs are old enough that she coulda had that thing Way Back
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It's late, but then again it always is.
I'm kneeling on the ground and my knees are damp from the grass.
In front of me in a great tree, with a wide trunk and strong limbs that reach up high into the night sky. A face is carved into it, impassive and ever watching
But at the base, nestled in the roots right infroon of me is the skull of a wolf, it's bottom jaw missing and the bone bleached white from its time in the sun and the elements.
I set a candle of black beeswax upon it, and light it.
I cut myself and let my blood drip over its teeth and down to the trees roots.
And I bow my head, and let myself reflect as I drift somewhere between consciousness.
It's peaceful.
#weirwood#dark forest#forest gods#black forest#old gods and the dark woods#dark gods#wolf gods#pagan gods#paganism#wolf#dark woods#wolves#wolf skull#sacrifice
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Riley didn't know what to do. Her mother was sick, and fading fast. The doctors had made little headway, their prescriptions and medicines doing little to eleviate the sickness, or the pain. Desperate, Riley traveled the unwalken paths and entered into the woods.
After traveling for what seemed like eternity, she had finally come across the being she was looking for, the Forest God. Upon seeing him, Riley could barely come up with the words to describe him. Bloody hooves graced the ground, the weight of his form sinking into the dirt. His body was like that of a bird and beast, with bloody arms coming forth from his chest. And his head, no eyes, only horns and antlers and teeth. He stood many heads taller than Riley, and for a moment she felt as if her heart had stopped.
'Speak Child'
Riley was surprised, for his mouth had not moved when he had spoken. Despite this, she steeled her self and spoke.
'My mother, she is sick. Please, I beg that you heal her.'
'I Do Not Grant Favors So Easily Child. I Demand A Cost.'
Neither his face nor his speech revealed any emotion, but Riley had gotten the distinct impression that he was irritated.
'Forgive me, m'Lord. I did not mean to offend I offer you my family's most prized possession.'
Riley pulled out a green gem from her bag and offered it to him. He stared at it for some time before kicking it towards her.
'Foolish Child, You Think I Am In Need Of Gems and Metals? I Possess More Diamonds And Gold Than Your Mind Could Possibly Comprehend. No, If You Wish For Me To Save Your Mother, I Demand Something Far More Precious.'
'And what would that be?'
'If You Desire That Your Mother's Life Be Spared, Then You Must Come With Me To My Kingdom, To The Land Of The Fair Folk, For The Rest Of Your Days.'
'And if I refuse?'
'I Will Not Make You Come. But A Choice Must Be Made.'
Riley contemplated the choice for a long time. She thought of her mother, sick and dying. And slowly, but her surely, her hand made its way to that of the Forest God's.
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Eddie’s having a strange day.
For once in his life, he’s not being treated like absolute shit by all the dumbass jocks of Hawkins High School.
In fact, they’re not even engaging with him at all. They’re looking at him, but they’re just not saying anything. Even when Eddie pretends to drop his stuff in front of Billy Hargrove, he doesn’t even laugh at him.
And while this should feel like the best day of Eddie’s life, he has an underlying feeling that this is all very very wrong.
Then, he knows the universe has decided to fuck with him or something when Tommy Hagan meets him at his “business transaction” table and instead of buying anything, he leans in and whispers, “Meet me at skull rock after school today.” And fucking plants a quick kiss to his cheek.
And hey. What the hell was that?
Yes, he’s seen the way Tommy looks at Steve Harrington to know there’s no way that there’s not a part of him that wants him in a way that is definitely not platonic.
But Eddie isn’t Steve Harrington (who makes every guy feel a little bit gay) he’s Eddie Munson. And this does not happen to him.
But, he reasons with himself that, hey, maybe he’s in a coma or something and this is his only chance to see what life would be like if he was… liked? That doesn’t seem to be the right word, but he doesn’t know how else to describe it.
Or maybe the universe decided he needs a break from his horrible second senior year.
Doubtful.
Nonetheless, he decides what the hell, why not go to skull rock and see what Tommy Hagan wants, despite everything in his being screaming THIS IS A BAD IDEA!!!
And a few feet into the forest, he hears the quick crunching of leaves and sticks as something approaches him and is nearly startled out of his skin by Steve Harrington of all people.
“You need to leave,” Steve pants out.
Eddie glances around and wonders if this is real.
“Eddie, I’m serious. You need to leave. Right now.”
Eddie crosses his arms. “Why?”
Steve sighs and runs his hands over his face. “Oh my god you remind me of Henderson. Okay. The basketball team is planning to ambush you because Billy thought it was a good idea or something. I don’t know. I overheard it in the locker room. And you have to leave.”
Eddie takes a moment to let it all sink in. And yeah, it adds up with the rest of the day, but also… “Why should I trust you?”
“Huh?”
“You’re Steve Harrington. You’re on the basketball team. What if you’re part of the trap?”
Steve shakes his head. “I’m not really friends with any of them.” His head whips around when a cracking noise sounds out a good distance away. “Let’s go,” Steve says, grabbing Eddie’s hand and tugging him away.
Eddie plants his feet and stays in place. “You’re going to have to prove to me in some way that you’re not in on this.”
Steve runs a hand through his hair and pinches his lips together. “I don’t know how!”
“Then tell me why you’re going against all of them to help me.”
Steve’s brows furrow for a moment before he puts his hands on his hip. “Because I’ve been on the receiving end of a Billy attack and that was before he lost the little control he had over his sort of sister that like kept him weirdly grounded or something. But ever since, he’s been itching for a fight, okay? And he doesn’t hold back. He could kill you.”
Half of it doesn’t make sense to Eddie, but something about Steve’s tone makes him believe that he’s telling the truth. But there’s still a small part of him that wants to doubt him.
“Kiss me.”
“What?” Steve asks, exasperated.
“If you’re in on it, you won’t be able to. Tommy barely even got my cheek-”
“He did what?”
“And,” Eddie continues, ignoring Steve, “if you’re not in on it, you’ll know that this means literally nothing to the both of us, and I’ll run back to my van immediately.”
Steve stares at him for a second as if he’s out of his mind - which he is, really - before stepping closer and asking, “You’ll really leave? Straight away? No poking around the woods because you’re curious?”
“Yeah,” he confirms with a nod. He smiles at Steve’s hesitation and says, “So, you are in on i-”
Only for Steve to quickly close the distance between them, weaving his hands into Eddie’s hair and pulling him close as he kisses him deeply, lingering for a few moments before pulling away, breath coming out heavier than before.
They both stare at each other for a moment, neither of them saying a word until another crunching sound appears closer than before and a voice calls out, “Eddie?”
Steve takes Eddie hand and runs, only for Eddie to pull him the other way toward his van, still slightly not trusting him although he’s pretty sure Steve’s tongue may have grazed the inside of his mouth. But that’s a thought for a later day.
As soon as the van is in sight, Eddie lets out a deep breath, happy to see it’s untouched before he runs and unlocks it, yelling for Steve to get in before starting it and taking off.
Once he’s on the road, he turns to Steve and asks, “You think we lost them?”
Steve nods and sighs, “I hope they don’t find my car though.”
“Where is it?” Eddie asks, quick to turn around when Steve directs him.
He’s not far from where Eddie was parked before, but with the risk of being discovered, Eddie is quick to stop his car and tell Steve, “Go!”
But Steve takes a moment and looks back at him, and Eddie’s suddenly scared that maybe he read this all wrong and Steve really is in on the trap. But then Steve asks, “And what if I asked you to convince me to go?”
It takes Eddie a second to register what the hell he’s talking about before he’s glancing back at the trees, searching for any movement before leaning over and breathing out, “I have got to be in a coma or something.”
There’s a brief sharp pain in his arm that has him yelping before he registers that Steve pinched him. “Maybe not,” Steve says, leaning closer to close the distance between them again, deepening the kiss in the short amount of time they have and quickly pulling away, leaving Eddie desperate for more.
“I’ll see you around. Thanks for listen to me,” Steve says before hopping out of the van and running to his car.
Eddie takes a moment to breathe before realizing he needs to get the hell out of there, and he quickly speeds off wondering if this is real life.
-:-:-:-:-:-
The next day, things go back to the way they used to be, but any time Tommy sees him, he turns an ugly shade of red which is accompanied by laughs of, “Eddie Munson stood you up.”
It’s nice at first, but two periods in, he’s already had enough of the dumb jabs people take at him until someone knocks a notebook out of his hands and it goes flying toward a nice blue pair of Adidas.
Eddie bends down at the same time as the other person does, and they both grab the book. When Eddie glances up, he makes eye contact with none other than Steve who gives him a small, private smile.
“Harrington,” Tommy says in an accusatory tone that has Steve frowning before standing back up, leaving the notebook in Eddie’s hand.
As he walks away, he turns back and gives him an apologetic smile that makes Eddie wonder if this is what Romeo and Juliet felt like.
The thought makes his nose wrinkle up before he stands up and goes about his day as if he doesn’t know what it’s like to be kissed by Steve Harrington. And a big part of him hopes that maybe he’ll get another weird day where Steve Harrington plays hero for him. And another part of him hopes that if he really is in a coma, he’ll wake up with Steve waiting for him on the other side.
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Oh God I need more GOW(God Of War)!Ghost !!
He's so handsome omg 😵💫 need him to be ruthless to everybody else but treat reader like she's glass and like she's better than everyone else (she is in his eyes)
Literally breaks anyone's skull if they even come NEAR her let alone TOUCH her ♥︎
Territorial War God!Ghost💔 He's awful with it! I mean, it's basically in his blood to be menacing, terrifying and aggressive, he's the god of war after all but after getting that cute virgin village girl as an offering? All for himself?? Yeah no one's getting within like 10 miles of his temple😭
He's naturally protective and with a new mate (you) it will literally skyrocket, will genuinely become hostile and aggresive if he senses that people are getting too close to the edge of the forest where his temple is. The first thing he will do is to find you and herd you away deeper into the temple, ignoring your confused protests when you were just swiping the floors :((
But the huge male is insistent, like a man on a mission, and continues to basically drag you into your shared chamber and make you sit down in the nest of furs, pillows and blankets that he calls your bed and the only thing he tells you before vanishing into an ominous dark mist is that he 'needs to check something'.
All you can do is pout, strip off your white dress and climb under the warm furs naked, waiting for your husband-to-be to return to you. You know very well that when the blonde god acts like that he's off to kill some poor wanderer or bandit who happened to unknowingly tresspass into the war god's territory. Ghost, or Simon as he insists you call him, is a incredibly possessive lover and now that you are to be his bride and are actively trying for babies he became so much worse💔
#kin speaks#war god!ghost#cod x reader#cod mw x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley cod#simon ghost riley#simon riley
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Unexpected Benefits of Becoming a Swamp Witch (1)
AO3 link for those who prefer to read fics there.
I've said in the past that I have absolutely no intention of ever pairing Sans with anyone but Frisk, and I firmly stand by that. BUT, Llamagoddess's Sans, Red and Skull are so different from canon Sans, and her many AUs are so far removed from classic Undertale, that I've always seen them as OCs, from unique worlds that have little to nothing to do with Undertale. And Skull in particular is my favourite. Big, scary boi who's somft for his little waifu? Loving cuddle bug who adores his precious mate to the point of obsession? Giant teddy bear who wants nothing more than to hold his beloved close to his soul forever and ever, and stars help anyone who tries to get in his way? Yes please!!
Also, for all those who've read my fic Good Girl Needs Kiss, well here's that reader MC's infamous mother! It won't have any bearing on the plot, though, and is honestly just my own personal headcanons for that reader MC's parents, but there will be some fun little easter eggs here and there, along with some shared worldbuilding.
I've actually got a couple of different ideas for who that witch!reader's father is, so I left him ambiguous, but mama witch has always been fully fleshed-out in my head, and I've finally decided to write about one of my favourite versions of GGNK!Reader's parents, using one of my favourite AUs from Llamagoddess. (Fair warning, MamaWitch!Reader is… kinda bitchy? And I've never written a MC who isn't nice and kind before. It was… interesting)
Again, you can treat this as its own, completely separate story if you want. Totally up to you.
Skull and Forest God AU belong to @llamagoddessofficial
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Chapter 1: Making a Choice
There were three forests for me to choose from. Well, technically there were two forests and a wetland which used to be a forest, but the latter was guarded by an ancient and powerful Forest God, and had plenty of ambient magic for me to tap into, so it was functionally similar to the other forests and would suit my needs just as well. Now, the question was: which of these would be my new home?
I’d been pondering the matter for a few days now, and had yet to decide. All three seemed like viable options, so I would need to carefully examine each one, to determine which of them would be the most suitable home for me. To that end, I’d sent out my two familiars to go investigate each of the forests thoroughly, while I took to the air on my enchanted broomstick, flying over each of the woods, and observing them from above.
I needed to be absolutely sure that I was happy with my final choice, because I wanted this home to be my permanent one. I was tired of having to constantly move, each time I’d get overwhelmed by suitors and harassed by enamoured clients.
This was all Mother’s fault.
I shook off my familiar annoyance, returning my attention to the dense forest canopy beneath me, as I soared over the trees on my broom. Making sure to stay above the treeline, and out of range of the local Forest God’s magic, I peered closely at the landscape whizzing past me down below.
Acres upon acres of tall, leafy, centuries-old trees met my eye, the very vision of a healthy forest. While I couldn’t see below the thick foliage, I could nevertheless hear the wildlife – insects and mammals scurrying, scuttling, and running around, the birds singing and calling to each other, some occasionally flying past me as they travelled from tree to tree.
All signs pointed to this forest being healthy and full of life, clearly well-maintained by its guardian deity. And most importantly for me, well-protected. Exactly what I was looking for. I felt confident that no trespasser with ill intent would be able to reach me, should I decide to settle here. Forest Gods were incredibly protective of their territories, and those inhabiting them, after all. I would finally get some peace.
The forest adjacent to this one was much the same, save for the trees at the very heart being petrified, the air saturated with some of the oldest magic I’d ever come across. An interesting place, for sure, and one well worth studying, should I decide to live there. And should its protector deity grant me safe passage. Most Forest Gods were unwilling to allow mortals to wander too close to their nests, but maybe I’d be able to bargain with this one? It was something to consider, at least.
The final “forest” was far different from the other two. I held a handkerchief over my nose as I flew above miles and miles of dark mud and peat, the horrid stench of death and rot permeating the entire area and practically assaulting my nostrils. It was certainly an unpleasant place, to say the least. I shuddered to imagine just how full of hatred and pain the resident God must be, for his territory to have ended up in such an abysmal state. There had to be a tragic story behind all this, and the dead husks of charred trees, barely visible through the ever-present thick fog, gave me an idea as to what it might be.
Against my will, I felt a pang of sympathy for the poor deity and his ruined home, before forcefully banishing such feelings. I had a mission to see through, and I couldn’t let myself get distracted by useless sentimentality. Life was harsh and cruel, for everyone, and mercy was for the foolish. I couldn’t afford to care about anyone but myself.
I was almost tempted to abandon my observation of the wetland, and give it up as a lost cause, when the land began to change. Dead bog eventually gave way to wet marsh, with cleaner water and richer soil, allowing for life to finally grow. A smile crept onto my face, as I saw plants covering the ground, and animals moving about the undergrowth. A flock of birds even joined me in the air after a while and called out to me, so I followed them deeper into the wetlands.
Finally, I reached the centre of the Wetland God’s domain – a swamp. The water was obviously very deep, but also clean, and full of aquatic life. Including alligators, I noted with interest. There were many fascinating potions I could brew with alligator teeth. Not to mention all of the incredibly rare and valuable swamp plants and herbs which grew in abundance here. My eyes practically sparkled, as I gazed around the misty swamp, my interest renewed.
There were also a great many trees, as expected of a Forest God’s domain – truly massive trees, their trunks thick and their branches wide, housing innumerable birds, mammals, reptiles, and insects. Something like hope sparked in my chest, but I was probably just imagining it. Still, it was very encouraging to see that the heart of this wetland was overflowing with life and magic, in spite of the desolate wasteland which surrounded it. A Forest God’s home should always be full of life.
As I was hovering beside the largest tree in the swamp, my eyes happened to spot a big, circular, red light shining in the mist. It almost resembled a giant eye, looking directly at me and seeming to stare straight into my soul. As if noticing my gaze, the eerie eye widened, its red light becoming brighter, and I felt the magic in the air shift. I took that as my cue to leave. I’d seen enough, anyway. No point lingering here and risk incurring the wrath of the Wetland God.
But as I flew away, a loud, mournful cry rang out behind me, echoing through the air and shaking the leaves on the trees below. Startled, I urged my broom to fly faster, and the cry eventually faded away into the distance. However, the haunting sound still lingered in my mind, along with that glowing, red eyelight.
Was that the Wetland God?
~~~
The following day, I arrived at the nearby town. It was fairly average in both size and appearance, but was nonetheless bustling with activity, and travellers and residents alike were milling around, going about their busy lives. I drew my cloak tighter around myself, and quickly made my way to the nearest inn.
Upon reaching my destination, I was greeted by a young woman, probably the innkeeper’s daughter, judging by the family photo hanging on the wall behind her. Her face lit up when I removed my travelling cloak, revealing myself to her, and she gave me a wide, vapid smile she probably thought was charming, and asked me if I was looking to rent a room. Resisting the urge to roll my eyes at her stupid question, because why else would I be here, I gave her a beguiling smile and seductively leaned in closer to her as I answered her.
“Why yes, I am. Would a sweet thing like you happen to have a room for a weary traveller such as myself? I’ve walked such a long way to get here, and I could really use a rest in a nice, comfy bed. I’d be so grateful to you if you could spare me a room, beautiful,” I’d lowered my voice to a smooth, silky drawl, and my honeyed words clearly had the effect I’d intended, given the way her eyes were glued to my lips, and how her breathing quickened.
She swallowed, a pink blush spreading across her cheeks, and smiled shyly at me. She then practically fell over herself to offer me one of the nicest rooms they had, at a generous discount. I held back a derisive snort. It was pathetic, really, how easily swayed she was by my supernaturally good looks and enchanting voice. This was nothing new, of course, but it still sickened me each time it happened. It was then just a simple matter of making tedious small talk with her for bit, before I finally steered the conversation towards the topic I’d been most interested in: the three magical forests.
For such an insipid creature, she was at the very least decently knowledgeable about the surrounding forests, and gave me all the information she had on them and their Gods. Much of it I’d already seen for myself, but it was useful to have confirmation from someone who’d actually lived in the area her whole life. She also confirmed my suspicions about the Wetland.
I didn’t have to feign genuine interest, as I listened to her tale of the God of the Black Wetland. Apparently, centuries ago, the Wetland used to be a beautiful forest, whose deity was relatively peaceful. But a group of humans from the nearby village wanted to clear it and weren’t happy with how he drove loggers away, so they took it upon themselves to burn the whole forest to the ground in one go. And they succeeded. In his rage, the Forest God killed the humans and flooded the entire area, including the village, transforming the landscape into an ugly, black bog.
From then on, he was known as the God of the Black Wetland, and had become a terrifying force of nature, who dragged anyone foolish enough to wander off the path, and into his domain, to a horrible, muddy and watery grave. The girl’s expression turned serious, as she warned me to avoid the Black Bog, and that if I absolutely had to go through there, that I should stick to the path at all costs. And should the fog begin to thicken, and I heard a bell ringing, then I needed to stay low, hold my breath, and pray that he didn’t see me.
I tried to look suitably fearful as I thanked her for her advice, while internally, I thought that anyone who was stupid enough to trespass on the territory of a Forest God whose home had been destroyed, deserved their fate. There was not a witch alive who would dare enter a God’s domain, without first being granted permission to do so. It was only common courtesy, after all. To disrespect a Forest God, was to invite calamity upon oneself, as my mother had once told me.
When I had gleaned all that I could from the girl, I thanked her with practised politeness, ignoring her flirting with the ease of habit, and made my way to my room. Upon reaching it, I went inside, locked the door behind me, and gave the place a casual glance. It was decently spacious, with a neatly-made bed, a desk, and a few shelves lining the walls. There was a window on one wall, which I went to open, casting a quick spell on the sill, to ensure that no one but myself and my familiars could enter through it.
That done, I tossed my bag on the desk, and collapsed onto the bed with a tired sigh. The bag landed with an inordinately loud * thump *, and the flap fell open, spilling several of my magical tools and arcane instruments across the desk, including a human skull. The skull rolled across the wooden surface, until it came to a stop by the edge, its dark, empty eye sockets staring right at me.
I glared at the skull. “This is all your fault, Mother.”
The skull didn’t answer me, of course. Not that I expected it to. I still had yet to perform the ancient ritual to bind Mother’s spirit to her skull, so that she could communicate with me from the afterlife. I just wasn’t ready to talk to her yet. I wasn’t sure I ever would be. I had a very... complicated relationship with her, after all.
My mother had been an incredibly powerful witch, supposedly the greatest mage of her generation. Her outstanding talents had won her the respect and admiration of her peers, few in number though they were, but had earned her the fear and hatred of the general populace. Not surprising, though, considering ordinary humans feared magic. Enough to have sealed away all of monsterkind underground, long ago. If mages, such as my mother, were not so useful to the common folk, perhaps we would’ve met the same fate as well. Perhaps one day we still might.
It was that very fear which had led my mother to cast numerous powerful enchantments on me, while I was still in her womb. All with the singular goal of making me as beautiful and desirable as possible. Mother had believed that if I were especially attractive, I would win the hearts of the non-magicals, and they would never turn on me or shun me as they had her.
And she’d succeeded. I was, by all accounts, visually stunning, with looks that turned heads wherever I went. Men and women from all around flocked to see me, showering me with gifts and compliments, in the hopes of earning my favour. There was not a single person who had anything but the most effervescent praise for my beauty.
And I hated it.
Because while I had indeed managed to catch the eye of every person I met, I despised such meaningless attention with a burning passion. Humans were nothing but shallow, despicable beings, and I very quickly grew to loathe their cloying desires and worthless, empty affections. None of these mindless fools truly cared about me, not a one bothered to see past my outward appearance, and look for the real me, inside.
And yet still they hounded me, harassed me, haunted me, begging for my attention like baying dogs. They kept insisting on throwing themselves at me, no matter how many times I threw them back out. It was tiresome. Tedious. I’d finally had enough of it, and decided to find a new home, in the territory of a protective Forest God, like many witches tended to do. Hopefully that would be enough to keep all of the nuisances away.
Perhaps I could’ve chosen to conceal my features, or disguised myself, maybe even tried to alter my appearance to something more ordinary. But I refused to hide or change myself. Why should I? I may not have chosen this body or this face, but they were nonetheless mine , and I would not hide them away just because of how other people reacted to them.
Besides, my mother had gone to a great deal of effort to give me these looks. And while I despised them, and resented her for what she’d done to me... I understood, at least on an intellectual level, why she’d done so. It would be unforgivably ungrateful of me to throw away all of her hard work. I was many things, but I wasn’t ungrateful. Not to my mother, the woman who’d given birth to me, raised me by herself, and taught me all she knew.
Therefore, instead of hiding my beauty, I chose to make use of it instead. If I were forced to suffer the consequences of my appearance, then I was determined to reap the benefits of it as well. And there certainly were many of those. People were such shallow, superficial creatures, after all. So easy to manipulate. It was child’s play, really.
But I wasn’t content to simply take advantage of my mother’s achievement. No, I had far grander ambitions than that.
Instead, I resolved to cultivate my own magical talents, and become a witch even greater than Mother, so that my powers and abilities would be my most notable trait, and all that anyone would talk about, rather than my physical appearance. I’d devoted myself to mastering witchcraft, and was proud to say that I was quite the accomplished mage and alchemist. I don’t know if I ever managed to surpass my mother, though. She died some years ago, all alone in her quiet little cottage in the woods.
I went back to my childhood home to give her a proper funeral, burying her in our ancestors’ sacred burial grounds, and taking her skull with me, as was tradition. I gathered all of her belongings, keeping those I found useful, disposing of or selling those I did not. A pitiful end for someone so infamous and talented.
Quietly, I rose from the bed and went over to the desk. With gentle hands, I picked up my mother’s skull and placed it on top of a nearby shelf, where those empty sockets could stare out at the entire room. My fingers lingered on the skull, tracing the edges of its mouth. Mother rarely ever smiled. I wondered if she’d ever known happiness, even once in her entire life...
I shook my head, dismissing such pointless thoughts. It was my own happiness I should focus on now. Which meant finding a suitable home. And to do that, I would need to find out more about all three forests. I looked towards the window. The sun was high in the sky; there was plenty of time to ask around and get the opinions of the locals who knew the forests the best. With that plan in mind, I left the room, locking the door behind me, and placing another spell on it to ward off intruders.
~~~
For the next several hours, I walked through the town, questioning people here and there, and listening in on the local gossip. It was mostly about some unwary travellers getting lost in the Black Bog a couple of weeks ago. They’d still not found the bodies, and no one was willing to go further into the bog to look for them, for fear of encountering the God of the Wetlands. Cowards, the lot of them. But I supposed that I couldn’t really blame them. I wouldn’t risk my life either, to go looking for fools too stupid to live.
As I passed by the local tavern, I heard raucous laughter coming from inside. But that wasn’t what caught my attention. I lifted an eyebrow as I sensed ancient, wild magic coming from within the tavern, the kind of magic that definitely didn’t belong in the middle of a human settlement. The kind of magic I’d sensed just the other day. Curious, I opened the door and peeked inside.
The tavern was surprisingly busy for this time of day, and there was a large crowd by the bar, louder and rowdier than they had any right to be before sundown. I hovered by the door, hesitant to go in any further with so many noisy people inside. I hated crowds- well, I hated people , really, but crowds were a special kind of dreadful I tried my best to avoid. I pulled the cowl of my cloak lower on my head, as I discreetly looked around for the source of the forest magic.
My eyes soon met a pair of bright, red ones. I blinked, taken aback. The red eyes were set in a handsome, seemingly human face, but I wasn’t fooled by the illusion. Any witch worth her salt would be able to sense the aura of a Forest God from a mile away, and I’d already flown over the forest belonging to this one just yesterday. I recognised him for what he was instantly.
The disguised deity looked equally surprised to see me. His red eyes widened, with what I could almost assume was recognition, before they roved across my form, something disturbingly familiar flashing in them, as they traced along my face. I couldn’t hold back my sneer, revulsion bubbling up within me like molten magma. He was... interested in me! Not in exactly the same way humans were, perhaps, but close enough to make me want to hex him.
It was with no small amount of distaste that I noticed how he was the centre of attention, with all eyes turned towards him, and everyone smiling and laughing at his crude jokes, all of the patrons hanging onto his every word. Several pretty ladies were even pressed up against him, giggling like they hadn’t a thought in their heads but to share his bed, and the arms curled around them only seemed to encourage their pathetic simpering.
Bitter disappointment welled up within me. I had thought that Forest Gods were above such abhorrent behaviour. It seemed I was wrong. They were just as susceptible to human weaknesses and mortal failings, as any other miserable worm on this planet.
The disgrace of a Forest God shot me a roguish wink, which I returned with the most hateful glare I was capable of, endeavouring to put every ounce of disgust I felt for him into the look, and causing his grin to falter. Without hesitation, I turned my back to him and strode out of the tavern. I heard a deep, masculine voice call out to me, but I slammed the door on it, shutting out that nonsense forever.
~~~
When I returned to my room, I immediately took out the sheet of paper containing the information I’d gathered on the three forests, and furiously crossed out everything pertaining to the forest governed by the shameful wretch I’d seen in the tavern. I would never live in his domain, I vowed to myself.
Luckily, I still had two other forests to choose from. I desperately prayed that their Gods were more respectable than this one. But I would need to know more about them to ascertain that. Hopefully, my familiars had been able to properly explore both of the forests, and would be able to help me figure out which one would be the best choice for my new home.
As if on cue, a brown owl glided soundlessly through the open window, and landed on top of Mother’s skull, followed shortly by a black cat, padding her way through the shadows towards me, before stretching out her lithe body across my bed.
“Artemis,” the cat blinked her eyes slowly at me in greeting, “Hermes,” the owl bowed his head respectfully to me, “I’ve ruled out the forest of the Red God as a possibility. Forget about that one. So, what have you two found out about the other two?”
Artemis tossed her head back and yowled at me. All that time... wasted! Should’ve let me know... sooner... her voice echoed through my head.
I rolled my eyes, well used to her whining. Missy was such a diva. If I didn’t love her so much, I would’ve dispelled the enchantment allowing us to communicate telepathically, long ago.
Hermes, on the other hand, merely bowed his head to me once more, acknowledging my orders, before launching into his report. The Green Forest is full of life. Trees. Mushrooms. Moss. Prey. Not prey. Predators. Fae. Spirits. Magic. Lots of magic.
Artemis flicked her tail. Lots of... interesting smells... plenty of food... so many good places... to nap...
I snorted, shaking my head lightly. Of course Missy would only focus on the things she would enjoy. At least Hermes was more helpful.
“And what of its resident Forest God?” I asked them.
Hermes’s reply came swiftly. Always moving. Always roaming. Always protecting. Only still at the heart. Stone trees. Old magic. Soft moss. Cold. Quiet. Clear.
Hmm... So he too enjoyed his peace and quiet? Looks like we might actually be able to get along. I felt the spark of hope ignite in my chest at the thought.
Artemis stretched out her front paws, kneading the bed covers beneath her. He put colourful bottles... in the trees... they cast pretty shadows... for me to chase...
I hummed to myself, going over what they’d told me in my head and adding it to the information I’d already collected. So far, this forest seemed promising. But I couldn’t be too hasty with my decision. Besides, there was also the other one to consider.
I turned to my two familiars. “And what about the Black Wetlands?”
Surprisingly, Artemis was the first to answer me, as she let out an angry hiss, her tail flicking to and fro in agitation. Smells bad... So wet! *Hiss* The mud gets stuck... in my fur... on my paws... hate it...
I gave her a sympathetic look, going over to her to run my fingers through her silky, pitch-black fur in a comforting caress. She pressed her head into my hand and began purring.
Hermes clicked his beak in annoyance, but made no further protest. Instead, he drew himself up imperiously, and puffed out his chest feathers. On the edge there’s only Black bog. Burnt trees. Foul water. Dead. All dead. But closer to the heart there’s more life. More green. Less black. The heart is swamp. Tall trees. Deep water. Many animals. Lots of life. Lots of magic.
I nodded to myself. I’d observed much the same myself.
Artemis sneezed. Didn’t see... couldn’t get past... the nasty mud.. .
I smiled at her in reassurance. “That’s all right, Missy, I know you tried your best. I’m very proud of you.”
When Hermes clicked his beak again, I turned my smile towards him. “And thank you for your diligence, Hermes! I’m so glad I can always count on you.”
The tan owl puffed out his feathers again, preening at my praise. Always, Mistress .
Artemis gave him an unimpressed look, her ears twitching. Thankfully, she turned away from him without comment. I let out a quiet sigh of relief, glad that an argument hadn’t broken out between them. Again.
Wanting to get the conversation back on track, I cleared my throat. “So then, what’s the Forest- uh, the Wetland God like?”
Hermes tilted his head to the side. Angry.
He then tilted his head to the other side. Very angry .
I frowned. “I don’t blame him. His entire forest was burnt to the ground by humans centuries ago, after all. He pretty much lost everything. I’d be absolutely livid myself, if I were him.”
Artemis curled up once more on the bed, tucking her paws underneath her and wrapping her tail around herself. He’s not just angry... and vengeful... and full of hate... Birds came to me... and told me... he’s lonely... very lonely...
Her words made me recall the loud, mournful wail I’d heard that morning. That probably was him, then, calling out to me. I’d initially thought it was a warning, to chase away intruders, but now I suspected it might’ve been the opposite. Was the Wetland God actually... upset that I’d left? Was he, maybe, calling out for me, asking me to come back? It seemed ludicrous, honestly. He was an ancient and powerful Forest God, whose mind and heart were unknowable to mortals, whereas I was a mere human, albeit a magical one. And yet, now that I really thought about it, I realised that he’d actually sounded sad... really sad...
My thoughts were interrupted by Hermes’s voice ringing in my head. Which forest will you choose, Mistress?
“Hmm... Good question.” My brows furrowed as I paced back and forth across the small, rented room, my head bowed in deep thought as I mulled over both my options.
The Green Forest was the obvious choice. A lush, vibrant forest, teeming with life, and guarded by a fairly peaceful deity, who mostly kept to himself. The ideal home for a solitary witch seeking to hone her craft. Definitely more appealing than a misty swamp, surrounded by sickly, smelly bog, and patrolled by an unstable, vengeful Old God.
My decision should’ve been clear. And yet...
… he’s lonely... very lonely...
Missy’s words wouldn’t leave my mind, despite my best efforts to chase them away. What should it matter to me if some Wetland God was lonely? His problems were not mine, his pain was not mine, his loneliness was not mine.
… he’s lonely... very lonely...
Without conscious thought, my eyes found the hollow sockets of my mother’s skull. She’d been lonely as well, for most of her life. And she’d died lonely, too. Had she ever cried out for someone, anyone, to help her, only for nobody to come? Had she ever cried out for me?... Had the Wetland God?
… he’s lonely... very lonely...
I went to my satchel, still splayed open across the desk, and took out a small, glass orb. It wasn’t anything special, had no magical properties whatsoever, and was nothing more than a cheap, simple ball made out of coloured glass, pretty, but ultimately useless. Something I was determined to never be. The only reason I even had this orb, was because it had once belonged to my mother.
She’d had many such trinkets, scattered throughout her house, but this one was her favourite. As a child, I’d often caught her gazing into the orb, lost in thought. I’d asked her why she did so, despite the orb having no practical use, and she’d told me that looking at it helped her to focus, as she pondered whatever problem occupied her mind at the time. I’d once jokingly called it her “Orb of Pondering”, and she’d given me one of her rare smiles. I guess it wasn’t so useless after all.
I now gazed into the orb myself, as I pondered my own current predicament. Which shouldn’t have even been a predicament in the first place. The choice should’ve been an easy one to make. The answer should’ve been plain for all to see. I should’ve just picked the Green Forest and been done with this deliberation. I would have an easier, simpler life there. My familiars would be happier there. It was beautiful. Untainted. Perfect.
… he’s lonely... very lonely...
With a resigned sigh, I lowered Mother’s orb and turned towards my familiars, still patiently awaiting my final decision. Plastering my brightest smile on my face, I forced as much enthusiasm into my voice as I could, as I told them, “You know, I think becoming a swamp witch sounds like a lot of fun!”
Predictably, Artemis was none too happy with my answer, and yowled out her displeasure for all the world to hear. Hermes, however, merely bowed his head obediently, accepting my decision without complaint.
As I tried my best to appease my feline familiar with chin scratches, I silently wondered if I had made the right choice. I hoped that I would not come to regret it.
~~~
The next morning, I woke up bright and early to carry out my preparations for obtaining the Wetland God’s permission to reside in his domain. For starters, I wrote up a letter explaining my request, making sure to keep my tone and words as respectful and humble as possible, and providing many reassurances of good behaviour, all while avoiding making any outright promises. You could never be too careful with Old Gods. I then imbued the letter with my magic and my intent, so that the ancient deity would be able to sense my sincerity for himself, as well as get a feel for my character before we officially met.
Once I was satisfied that the letter was properly saturated in my magic, I handed it to Hermes, informing him of its contents, just in case the Wetland God was unable or unwilling to read it, and instructed the owl to deliver it directly to its intended recipient as swiftly as possible, and to return only once he’d received a definitive answer. Hermes dutifully bowed his head, took the letter very delicately in his beak, and flew off into the sky.
Afterwards, it was only too easy to charm the inn’s cook into letting me borrow his kitchen for a few hours. He’d tried to remain close to me, invading my personal space under the guise of “helping” me, but a threatening hiss and swipe of her paw from Artemis were enough to get the filth away from me. The black cat remained curled around my shoulders, fixing her large, golden eyes on the nuisance and occasionally flexing her sharp claws at him, to keep him a safe distance away from me as I worked.
I wasn’t sure what offerings the Wetland God would enjoy, but most Forest Gods were not averse to homecooked food, and most Fae had quite the sweet tooth, with a particular fondness for honey, so I decided to bake him a large honey cake, with buttercream icing and a honey drizzle. It was something my mother had often baked for the Forest God whose territory she resided in, and she’d taught me the recipe as a child. It was one of my happier memories with her.
The rich, sugary smell which soon filled the kitchen brought on a wave of nostalgia. Instead of quashing the feelings, as I normally did, I allowed myself to reminisce for a while. My childhood home was always filled with the most interesting aromas, whether it was food, potions, or magical residue from the spells Mother cast. She really was quite the talented witch. I’d learned so much from her.
When the cake was done, I wrapped it up neatly, placing an enchantment on it to keep it warm and fresh, and carefully packed it away in my carry bag. That done, I changed into formal sorcerer’s robes, and spent some time preening in front of the mirror, to ensure that I looked as presentable as possible. I wanted to make a good first impression, after all, and while it was unlikely that my human appearance would be able to sway a Forest God’s opinion, it didn’t hurt to look my best. Besides, old habits died hard.
Finally, all that was left to do was to pack up all of my belongings. Hermes returned as I was putting away Mother’s skull, and informed me that the Wetland God had accepted my request. Instantly. Gladly. Very gladly. In fact, he seemed positively giddy about me coming to live in his domain. Well, that was... a surprise. But a welcome one, to be sure. Better than the alternative, anyway. I guess he really must’ve been very lonely, for him to be so excited for some company. It gave me hope that the two of us might be able to have an amicable relationship.
My lips subconsciously tugged up into a smile, as I pet Hermes’s tan feathers, my mind on the Wetland God. I’d never had a friend before. My familiars didn’t count, they were bonded to me and my magic for the rest of our shared lives – they were practically an extension of myself. I looked forward to getting to know my new ‘landlord’. Quietly, privately, in the depths of my heart, I hoped that he would grow to like me. Maybe he wasn’t the only one who was lonely...
When everything was packed up and put away, Artemis draped herself around my shoulders once more, her tail curling lightly around my neck, like a black, fluffy necklace. Hermes perched himself on the crooked tip of my tall, pointed, witch’s hat, his head constantly swivelling around to survey his surroundings, ever watchful, ever alert. I gave the room a once-over, checking that I’d gathered everything, and made my exit.
I didn’t check out of the inn just yet, however. I needed a safe place to return to, on the off chance that things turned sour with the Wetland God. You could never be too careful, after all, and it always paid to have contingency plans for every possibility. Better to be safe than sorry.
Once I’d found a clear spot, I took out my broom, sat myself on it, and kicked off the ground, shooting through the sky like a comet. With the wind rushing past me, and my robes billowing behind me, I left the town and made my way towards my new home and the beginning of my new life.
~~~
I landed on the very edge of the bog. Getting off my broom, I kept it firmly in one hand, ready to get back on it and fly away at the first hint of danger. I took a deep breath and instantly regretted it, as a rotten stench assailed my nose. Coughing and spluttering, I retrieved my handkerchief and covered my nose as best as I could, trying to breathe through my mouth. Around my neck, Artemis grumbled irritably, her furry lips pulled back in a grimace at the foul smell in the air.
Not wanting to spend any longer here than necessary, I stepped foot inside the bog.
The place was even creepier from the ground than it was from the sky. Dark, viscous mud covered the ground, save for the patches of slimy, black water dotted here and there, with only the gnarled, dead trees managing to rise up from the sludge. Mosquitos seemed to be the only creatures living in the bog, their constant buzzing the only sound I could hear, apart from the squelching of my boots as I trudged through the mud. It was also difficult to see anything past the thick fog blanketing the entire area.
The whole place was like something straight out of a nightmare. It was a rather daunting experience, honestly. But I knew that it got better. I just needed to press on and stay determined.
And so, I kept walking, keeping to the well-trodden path and the narrow wooden walkways, all while keeping my eyes and ears open for any sign of the Wetland God. Occasionally, I flared out my magic, just to let any extramundane entities who might be nearby know that I was here. After a short while of doing so, I felt an answering burst of ancient, otherworldly magic, far, far in the distance, coming from the centre of the wetlands. I paused. Then it came again, slightly closer.
The God of the Black Wetland knew I was here. And he was coming towards me. Hopefully to give me a friendly greeting, and not to chase me away. Or worse.
I stayed still, drawing my cloak tighter around myself to ward off the chill in the air, and cast my eyes around warily, as I waited for the deity to arrive with bated breath. I didn’t have to wait long.
Soon, the fog began to thicken, until I could barely see past my own nose, and distantly, faintly, I could hear the gentle chiming of bells, steadily getting louder. I stood up straighter, my heart racing in anticipation, and gripped my broom tighter. Both of my familiars were equally on high alert, ready to react at a moment’s notice.
Suddenly, the shadows began to shift, something moving through the fog, something truly massive. I held my breath, my heart pounding in my ears, as the figure finally came into view, the fog parting around him.
It was, without doubt, a Forest God, although one unlike any I’d ever seen before. While the others I’d known had all had bodies more or less closely resembling various animals, this one had a gigantic, stocky body, with a solid, downward sloping spine with jagged vertebrae, and long, thick, straight legs like tree trunks, clearly designed for wading through mud and water. Its head was a huge dog skull, sporting enormous moose antlers, wider than I was tall.
What really caught my attention, though, was the large, red eye glowing in the skull’s left eye socket. It was the same eyelight I’d seen the other day, in the swamp. That red eyelight was now fixed unwaveringly on me.
I swallowed, gathered my courage and addressed the ancient and powerful deity staring right at me. “Greetings, oh Wetland God. I am the one who sent you the letter this morning – the witch seeking to make her home in your swamp, with your permission. It is an honour to meet you, Old One.”
That crimson stare intensified. “ i know you... ” I gave a start as a deep, rumbling voice issued forth from the Old God, harsh, halting, and seeming almost rusty from disuse. “ i saw you... before... but you left.. .” The red eyelight shook, shrinking, before expanding once more, to take up the entire socket. “ i was so... so happy... when i got your letter... i recognised... your magic... your scent... ” The red light got brighter, lighting up the entire area like a blazing fire. “ you will stay with me... your owl said... that you’ll stay with me... you WILL stay with me... right?... forever... right?... ”
I nodded hesitantly. “That’s the idea, yes. I hope to make this place my home. My forever home, if you will.”
The Wetland God made a low, bellowing sound, followed by a couple of sharp trills, his colossal body swaying slightly. Bygone magic filled the air, buzzing against my skin, and making the hairs on my arms and on the back of my neck stand on end. Small strands of green began sprouting up from the mud, and the murky water started to clear. A few tiny blossoms even popped up along the deity’s legs and antlers.
While I wasn’t entirely sure what to make of such a reaction, I took it as a good sign. I was at least confident that the God wasn’t displeased with my presence here. If anything, the magic saturating the air was tinged with what felt distinctly like excitement. Definitely a good sign.
I cleared my throat. “I take it that I am welcome here, then. If so, would you be so kind as to let me know where I am permitted to make my home?”
In response, the towering being lowered his head to the ground in front of me. “ i will... take you home... ”
I blinked, not certain if I’d heard him right, or if I was misunderstanding his intention. “Do you mean for me to... climb onto your head?”
“ yes... ” came his reply, not even a hint of hesitation in his voice. Unlike mine, which was filled with uncertainty, as I nodded to him, “As you... wish.”
I was far from comfortable getting so close to such an incredibly old and powerful deity, but I wasn’t about to refuse a direct order from him. With slow and tentative movements, I climbed on top of his massive skull and sat myself in between those wide and solid antlers.
When he was sure that I was securely sat on his head, the Wetland God very gently lifted his skull, seeming to take great care to not jostle me about, as he straightened up and carefully strode off through the bog. His gait was surprisingly steady, despite the deep mud he was wading through, and my ride was pleasantly smooth.
It was quite the novel experience. I’d never heard of a Forest God allowing a mere mortal to actually ride on them, like some common beast of burden. It was a great honour, honestly, and I made sure to savour every second of it. I’d likely never get another opportunity like this again, so I had to make the most of this one while it lasted.
Leaning forward slightly, I placed a hand on the surface of the skull, taking a brief moment to appreciate the cool and smooth bone-like texture of the God’s head, before addressing him. “Mighty Wetland God, I wish to thank you for allowing me to live in your domain. I will endeavour to never make you regret your decision. And I sincerely hope that the two of us will get along well.”
His crimson eyelight seemed to fuzz around the edges, and I watched in amazement as a soft, pink hue spread across his muzzle. Was... was he blushing ? He couldn’t be, surely. That was impossible... Right?
“ i would never regret... you living with me... ” he sounded completely sure of himself. I raised an eyebrow at him, wondering where such confidence came from. “ and i promise... to make you happy... here... with me... ” I sucked in a sharp breath at his vow, feeling completely bewildered as to why a Forest God would make such a promise, and to a mortal, some human he’d only just met. What, by the stars , was this deity thinking?
I cleared my throat, trying to calm my racing thoughts and keep a cool head. “I’m, uh, incredibly flattered by your... kindness. Thank you, My Lord.”
“ ... skull... ”
My brows furrowed at the seemingly random word. “Skull?”
His definitely-not-a-blush darkened slightly, spreading further across his snout. “ yes... ” he told me, his voice deep and heavy, yet quiet and almost shy. “ that’s my... my name... ”
I exhaled heavily, something like awe flowing through me. I could hardly believe my ears. Had a Forest God really just given me his name? That was... that was... unexpected , to put it mildly. Old Gods did not give out their names lightly – it was a privilege, one which you had to earn. So for this one to simply volunteer his name, without my even having to ask it of him...
I stared at the top of his skull in disbelief. Why? Why would he do such a thing? I wasn’t anyone important. Not to an Old God, at least. So then, why would he give me his name so freely? What had I done to deserve such an honour?
As I puzzled over these questions, the scenery began to change, from bog to marsh. I frowned in confusion. Wasn’t the bog far wider than this? Why had we already reached the marsh? This was too soon. We should still have been wading through several more miles of barren wasteland.
And then my eyes fell upon an even more startling sight.
What had only recently been waterlogged soil, was now practically a flower garden. Thousands of tiny, colourful, low-lying marsh flowers spread out as far as the eye could see, interspersed with twisting, winding, glittering waterways.
As I watched in stunned silence, I noticed more and more flowers blossoming. I could also sense just how steeped in Life Magic the earth was, encouraging the growth of plants and causing flowers to bloom every second. Even the wildlife was benefitting from the ancient magics, as more and more birds flocked to the marsh, and more fish and amphibians swam in the crystal-clear waters.
Life was well and truly returning to the wetlands.
I was astonished at such a dramatic transformation, in such a short amount of time. “Skull... This is incredible... What happened here since I last saw it?”
Skull came to a stop, allowing me to admire the natural beauty surrounding us. Several birds flew closer, clearly with the intent of landing on the Wetland God’s antlers, but Hermes spread his wings wide and screeched threateningly at them, and they flew away in a hurry.
“ i wanted to... make our home nicer... for you... you deserve... a nice home... ” I wanted to gape at him, but managed to restrain myself. Then his voice lowered, a hint of shame leaking into it “ i’m sorry... you saw it... so ugly... so sick... i’m trying hard... to make it better... for you... ”
I was speechless for a while, as my brain struggled to process what I’d heard. Had Skull been terraforming his domain since he received my letter? Or maybe even, ever since he first saw me? That... that was... “Wow. I-I don’t know what to say... Thank you, Skull. You did an amazing job. The place looks beautiful. And very lively.”
Skull made a pleased sound, the ambient magic fairly thrumming with its Wetland God’s joy, and several more tiny flowers bloomed on the deity’s horns. Skull then resumed his walk, taking us further into the heart of his territory, until we eventually reached the very centre.
The swamp at the heart of the wetlands hadn’t changed since I was last here. Not surprising, considering it was likely a lot older than the rest of the wetlands, and would therefore take more time to change. But it was still an impressive sight.
Alligators swam alongside us, eyeing me curiously, and Skull rumbled something to them in a language I couldn’t understand. Whatever it was, it seemed to have made them happy, given their own, excited rumblings. More birds flew closer, and were again scared off by Hermes.
I rolled my eyes in fond exasperation at how territorial my owl familiar was of me. I was his home and his family, and he would allow no other bird near me. Artemis, meanwhile, remained curled around my neck and shoulders, glaring at the alien landscape, and grumbling about the humidity and the bizarre odours.
The sun was starting to set, tinting the enveloping mists in soft hues of pink and orange. Fireflies had also begun to appear, gradually filling the air with their tiny lights. I could hear the croaking of frogs, the buzzing of insects, and the singing of birds, all blending together with the sloshing of water, in a mesmerising harmony of sounds. I couldn’t help but sit back and listen to the song of the swamp.
It was all wonderfully atmospheric. Romantic, even. I snorted lightly, dismissing the ridiculous thought. Romance had no place in my life.
We finally came to a stop in front of what had to be the biggest tree in the whole swamp, standing at the very centre of the entire Wetland. It really was a giant among trees, taller and wider than any other I’d ever seen, stretching so high into the sky, I couldn’t see the top. A hollow had formed inside it, rising above the water level, and wide enough that I suspected even Skull might be able to fit inside, if he curled himself up.
There was a lip of wood at the entrance of the hollow, and it was to there that I hopped, when Skull lowered his head, a clear indication that I should disembark.
Inside the hollow, I found it lined with piles of pillows and blankets, and heaps of little trinkets. The entire alcove smelled of fur and incense, and even faintly of beeswax. It looked... cosy. Surprisingly cosy, and homey. Did someone live here?
I turned towards Skull, who was stood just outside the hollow, staring at me intently. “What is this place? Where did all this stuff come from?”
The corners of Skull’s jaws raised up in something resembling a smile. “ my nest... ” my eyebrows fairly flew into my hairline at that shocking revelation. I could never have guessed that the Wetland God would take me to his nest . But Skull wasn’t done blindsiding me yet. “ now OUR nest... i tried to make it better... for you... i added softer... and prettier blankets... and pillows... all for you... my lovely wife... ”
I choked on my spit at that last word. “W-Wife?!” my voice rang out in a strangled yell. My mind came crashing to a halt, because seriously... I must have misheard him. Surely he hadn’t meant to call me his wife .
But Skull only smiled wider, blushing once more, and nodded his massive head. “ yes... my wife... my lovely, little wife... my darling mate... ”
I thought my heart was about to stop. I could barely breath, as thoughts rushed through my head at breakneck speed, my brain desperately trying to come up with some kind of explanation for Skull’s inconceivable behaviour. Just how had he come to believe that I was his wife ? Had I done something, anything which could’ve led the Wetland God to think me his mate? I wracked my mind for any kind of plausible reason for this huge misunderstanding, but could find none.
“ so small... so soft... so pretty... such a sweet smell... such strong magic... ”
Had Hermes in any way intimated such a thing to Skull when they’d spoken? As soon as the thought came, I dismissed it. No, my loyal owl familiar would’ve followed my instructions to the letter. He was dutiful to a fault, and would never go against my orders, or do anything that wasn’t strictly in my best interests. And he rarely, if ever, acted on his own initiative, more content to await my commands. He would never have so much as implied, to the Wetland God, that I was interested in being anything more than a simple resident of his domain.
A noise rumbled from deep within Skull’s chest, one that sounded disturbingly like a purr. “ i’m so happy... you came... i’m so happy... you accepted me... i’m so... so happy... ”
And he sounded it, too. I glanced up at him, taking in his undeniably joyful countenance. He definitely looked happy, too. I bit my lip. This... this was a disaster. This unstable Forest God, whose home I was to live in, was woefully mistaken as to the nature of our relationship. As such, I would need to correct his misconception, immediately.
I braced myself and opened my mouth-
“ i knew... from the moment... our eyes met... that you were... the one... ” Skull’s voice rumbled like boulders tumbling down a mountain, and yet there was something... soft in the way he spoke to me. Something tender, and warm. Something I’d never heard from anyone else before.
“ the one... i’d been waiting for... all my life... ” The blood-red glow of his eyelight softened, the pupil at its centre becoming heart-shaped, as Skull’s gaze remained fixed on me, never wavering for even a second. It was a look I’d never seen before. One full of awe and adoration. Skull looked at me as if I was the most precious thing in his world. “ i was... so lonely... but not anymore... not now that... i have you... ”
He sighed, a warm gust of wind which rustled my robes and tousled my hair. “ i’m so happy... that you’re here... with me... ” He let out a sharp trill, ending in a deep purr. “ i promise... to make you... happy too... i want you... to love me... as much as... i love you... my mate... ”
I stared at Skull’s loving face, his gaze so full of affection, for me. My mouth was still open, ready to deny being his mate and clear up this whole mess. “I-I... can’t wait...!” was what came out instead. I winced, mentally kicking myself for saying something so stupid.
Skull’s expression brightened. His purring intensifying, he leaned his head close and pressed the end of his snout against me. “ my wife... my mate... so warm... so soft... i love you... so much... ”
And instead of doing anything even remotely sensible, such as telling this deranged deity that I was most certainly not his wife, I just lifted my hands up to his head, and ran my hands all along his hard muzzle, petting his skull as if he were an overgrown puppy.
As Skull continued to purr, making low, muffled sounds of contentment, the magic around him hummed and shuddered, causing tiny flowers to bloom all around us. I shivered, as the Wetland God’s ancient magic brushed up against me, like a cat demanding attention, and released my own magic into the air, allowing it to mingle with his. Skull purred louder, the vibrations sinking into my very bones. Admittedly, it was actually quite a pleasant sensation.
I sighed. Oh well... This wasn’t an entirely terrible situation. It could’ve been a lot worse, all things considered. Besides, Skull would probably snap out of whatever bout of insanity was currently consuming him, and return to his senses in no time.
His infatuation with me was only temporary, and would soon fade away.
…Right?
__________________________________________
This wasn't supposed to be this long. It was supposed to be a oneshot. But I just cannot seem to write a reader-insert without constantly adding more and more and more, until it balloons into several far-too-long chapters. But this will be a twoshot (with a short epilogue)! It WILL!! I REFUSE to let this drag on for more than two chapters! I have other things to do! Other WIPs that demand my attention! So there will be ONE more chapter, almost entirely comprised of fluff, with Skull being a soft boi, reader discovering her inner soft gurl, and her two familiars being literally soft. And then a short epilogue (which will basically just be a fun bonus for those who've read "Good Girl Needs Kiss").
See you guys for the second (and definitely last!) part.
Chapter 2
#JMB writes#skull x reader#forest god au#forest god skull#reader is a witch#reader is... not nice#skull is baby#skull deserves all the hugs and all the kisses#witch familiars#reader's kryptonite is affection#something Skull gives LOTS of#reader has a personality#and some backstory#this is what happens when you decide to write a story starring a background character from another story#author has NO self-control
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The Forest Demon by Елена Саморядова
#art#illustration#digital art#dark art#fantasy#macabre#creature design#character design#actual horse#sorta#antlers#skull#birds#surreal#forest spirit#forest god
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If It All Fell (2)
Pairing: Azriel x Reader
Summary: If it all fell apart—if you forgot who you were—would you love him again? Would the bond guide you back? Azriel doesn't know if that uncertainty is one he can bear.
Word count: 3k
Warnings: Angst!! (poor Az :/)
a/n: I hope you enjoyy!! :) More to come obvi <3 This is gonna be a long one.
Part 1 ♡, Part 3 ☾
Series Masterlist
~~
Did the small wooden box on the top shelf of the closet have meaning?
Was it significant?
From the bed centered in the middle of the room, you let your eyes take you along the delicate carvings in the wood. They looped and curved, dropping off in the pattern of a star, and then a moon, and then a misshapen cloud.
You knocked your head to the side, ignoring the deep pain lingering there, and glanced at the empty spot on the dresser by the door. It was the exact size of the box. And the box—in its new, seemingly hidden location—looked haphazardly placed.
Did they move it for a reason?
Did they think you wouldn’t notice?
Was this even your bedroom?
You figured it must be. Clothes that looked to be your size were hanging in the closet. A vanity sat by the window with products on it that might compliment your complexion. There were paintings you found yourself enjoying hanging on the walls.
So this must be your bedroom… but there was something missing.
And it looked as if nothing was in the right place, but you had no frame of reference for where it was all supposed to be.
You just knew that that wooden box didn’t belong under a knit sweater in the closet.
The creak of the door drew your attention away from the apparent inaccuracy of the room. Two people entered, and it was a small mercy that you found some recognition in their faces. Majda and Mor slinked into the room, the latter with a sheepish, shy smile on her face, and clicked the door shut with a muted click.
“Hi,” Mor greeted, as Majda set an absurdly large bag on the bedside table. The blonde shifted her weight between her feet. “My name is Mor. We met in the forest, do you remember?”
Do you remember?
It was unintentionally cruel.
You nodded your head, not trusting your voice when it was so unfamiliar.
Mor’s smile brightened a touch. “I was hoping you would. Although, with everything that happened I wasn’t going to put too much pressure on you.” She winked, and you were left feeling like an outsider in your own conversation.
Majda bustled around your bed, asking permission before touching your head and your neck. You granted it to her, if only because she was the only person in the room not attempting to drive an uncomfortable conversation. Mor seemed very sweet, but she was hovering over you and glancing your way as if you were going to explode.
Maybe you were going to explode.
It’s not like you would know if that was a common occurrence for you.
“I know you’ve woken up a few times since returning ho—here,” Mor quickly corrected, playing with her fingers and shifting onto her toes. “You were confused for a while before you fell back to sleep. Do you remember that?”
Do you remember that?
You shook your head. Majda’s hands glowed and warmed against your skull.
Mor pursed her lips. “Hm, I suppose that’s to be expected. It was all a bit disorienting.”
There were a few moments of silence. Mor dropped herself into the chair that had been pulled up beside the bed, fidgeting every so often. The old healer continued her assessment of you as you stared blankly out the window and tried to pretend there weren’t a pair of brown eyes burning a hole into the side of your face. You could hear footsteps beyond your door.
They would pace one way, and then the other.
“No change.” Majda’s voice startled you out of your stupor. She gave you kind eyes and a pat on your cheek. “This is above my abilities. I’m sorry. You are in good health, otherwise.”
“My head,” you croaked out. Gods, how long had you been asleep? “It hurts. Hasn’t stopped.”
The healer hummed. “I can give you some tonics, but until the source of this amnesia is sorted out, there will be no definitive fix.”
A few glass vials clinked against the side table as Majda placed them there and slung her bag over her shoulder. She shared a few hushed words with Mor and then went to the door, swinging it wide as she stepped through it. You caught the tip of a wing in the doorframe, saw those same shadows from before curve around the hinges and pull towards you.
They were ushered back just as quickly, and then the door shut as well, hiding the hints of your visitor.
You hadn’t noticed you’d craned your neck to catch a glimpse until you righted it. When you heard more voices in the hall, you looked down at your fingers, blinking back tears you didn’t understand the origins of.
“Sometimes, you like to read,” Mor said, breaking the silence. “You were in the middle of this book.”
She placed the thick novel on the blanket beside your legs. Glancing up at Mor’s encouraging smile, you picked it up, feeling its weight in your hand instead of giving in to the one in your chest. You thumbed along the spine and then at the edges of the pages, stopping when your fingers caught on a sharp edge at the top.
A bookmark—a place where you’d left off. You flipped it open but couldn’t follow a bit of it.
More tears left your throat feeling thick.
“What happens now?” you quietly asked, trying desperately not to cry in front of this woman that you didn’t know.
“Now—” Mor began, clearing her own throat, her voice just as raw as yours. When she sat by your legs, you let some of the glossiness in your eyes show. “—we take things slow. Majda said we shouldn’t rush things until we find a source. Rhys—Rhysand… the one with the pointed ears and a pompous attitude—is in contact with other courts to try and get some help. There are other people in our Inner Circle that might be able to help as well.”
You bit into your bottom lip until it hurt. “I’m part of this circle?”
Mor’s smile was sad. “You are.”
~~
You shifted in front of the mirror, uncomfortable despite being alone. It had been three days since you woke up, and each of those three days had been spent in your bedroom. Your bedroom, you had confirmed with Mor.
The only two people you had been in contact with were Mor and Majda. You could hear other voices in the hall, sometimes see a shadow pass by your balcony at night, but you only ever spoke to Mor. Majda didn’t say much when she came in to check your head and drop off more vials.
“We don’t want to overwhelm you,” Mor had said, but there was something else, too. You weren’t comfortable enough to pry. She looked disappointed that you accepted her reasoning so easily.
The three days were spent mostly alone, which you hadn’t minded, but the time spent with Mor was filled with stories about you. Where you grew up, how long you studied, all of your favorite things; she was in the business of introducing you to yourself, and she was definitely qualified for the job.
You had asked her who she was to you, and you received a simple answer at that.
“I’m your family,” she had said, and then she began talking about you again.
She always got quiet when you spoke of your connection to others.
Which was why you had suggested a lunch.
You spent the better part of the last three days panicking, and then moping, and then aimlessly searching your bedroom for any hints of the life you led before this. All avenues either left you with a headache or emotional exhaustion.
You remembered the three other men from that day—Rhysand, Azriel, and the one with the longer hair—Cassian, Mor had called him. You wanted to meet them properly… introduce yourself? A ridiculous notion; according to Mor, you’d known everyone for the past 300 years.
But you didn’t know them, not really.
And Azriel’s shadows—you wanted to see them the most. You’d been searching for the calm they offered you since the day you woke up, but couldn’t find it in their absence.
“Are you ready?” Mor asked, a soft knock on the other side of the door.
“I think so,” you called back. You’d grown more accustomed to the sound of your voice. It was still strange to hear the sound echo back in your head, but as long as you didn’t scream or yell, it was tolerable.
Mor opened the door, took in your choice of clothes—a purple dress with sleeves that flowed past the wrists—and tried to hide the flutter of her lashes.
Embarrassment immediately found you. “Was I not supposed to wear this? It was in the back of the closet so I thought—”
“You look lovely,” Mor assured, linking your arm with hers. Touch was another thing you were growing accustomed to. It was easy with Mor. “You just haven’t worn that in a while. I was surprised to see it.”
As she walked you down halls you had never seen before, you huffed out a dry laugh. “Well, this is the first time I’m seeing it.”
Your joke fell flat. Mor smiled back at you, but it was the same smile you always saw. Sad, pained, bittersweet.
“Who did you say was attending?” you asked, attempting to steer the conversation away from her sad smiles.
“Just me, Azriel, and Cassian. There are a few more people we typically see on a daily basis, but we wanted to start out small.”
“To not overwhelm me.”
“Precisely.”
Your steps were silent on the marble floor, the silk slippers you chose allowing some of the chill to seep into your toes. “So, why did they choose you?”
Mor blinked and turned a confused expression your way. “What do you mean?”
“Why did they choose you as the one person that speaks to me? Are you the least overwhelming of the bunch?”
“Well that title certainly wouldn’t go to Cassian,” Mor grumbled out. She guided you to a large wooden door and offered you a shrug of her shoulders that looked far too nonchalant. “I was just the best fit for the job. I love you, but… I could handle this.”
“Handle this? Am I really so terrible?” you asked, trying your hand at another joke.
Mor’s smile looked more genuine this time as she shook her head. “No. No, you are absolutely wonderful. And that’s the problem.”
You took a moment to try and decipher her words. Did you mean that much to these people? Did they care so deeply about your memories that only one person could stand to be around you now that they were gone?
It was difficult not to fall into the immense vat of guilt you now found yourself teetering on the edge of. It was difficult to pretend Mor wasn't looking at you as if you had stolen something from her.
That was the truth that was missing before—you would be too overwhelming to everyone else. Not the other way around.
Mor gave your hand a fond squeeze as if she could hear your thoughts, and then opened the door. The hinges squeaked and the sheer size of it caused a rather loud echo in the room, but neither of those sounds drowned out the sharp intake of breath from the dining room table. Your eyes immediately shot to the blue glow and the shadows twisting around wide wings.
Azriel.
He looked back at you, unblinking, mouth parted. His hair was clean cut and cared for, but something about it looked frazzled and untamed. It didn’t suit the stiffness with which he sat, nor the white-knuckled grip on his fork that he maintained.
Black wisps slinked across the floor, stopping at your slippers and twisting around your ankles. You broke your stare from Azriel in favor of watching them swirl up your legs. True to your memory—which wasn’t a testament to much these days—their cool presence eased some of the pain in your head.
A throat cleared.
You snapped your head up.
“Uh, I’m Cassian. I don’t know if you remember me from the other day—”
“I do,” you softly interrupted.
Azriel choked out a shuddering breath. Your eyes lingered on the side of his face before returning to Cassian as he continued with, “Good. That’s good. New memories and all that. Very nice.”
“Cauldron, Cassian,” Mor admonished. “She’s not an invalid.”
He threw his hands up in a placating gesture. “I didn’t say she was! I was being encouraging.”
“Great, I’m sure we all feel very encouraged. Come, y/n.”
You followed Mor blindly until a chair was pressed to your back and a plate was ushered in front of you. There were a few moments of silence, just the clinking of plates and forks, before the panic began to build in your chest. It was a familiar feeling for you, one of the only you could draw memories from.
You should say something.
Azriel and Cassian, they were doing this for you—taking time away from whatever it was they were supposed to be doing to have a silly lunch. In a normal world, you wouldn’t need to have lunch as a way to reintroduce yourself to your family.
Were they still your family?
You knew nothing about them, could reciprocate nothing.
There had been no news about the witch that did this to you and no one told you if Rhysand found anyone to help.
What if you were stuck like this?
What if they grew tired of you wasting away in your room and forcing them into lunches and—
“That dish is your favorite.”
Azriel’s deep voice rasped at the end of his sentence and sent every thought shooting away from your brain. You came back to present, catching yourself taking quick, shallow breaths and staring down at the table with no clear target.
“You eat it every other week. I—We picked it up from a restaurant along the Sidra, a river in town,” Azriel explained.
You brought your gaze up from staring a hole into the wood to find Azriel directly across from you, his posture more relaxed than before. His expression was patient, kind, and you nodded back at him.
“Thank you,” you whispered. But that was odd—whispering during a meal. “Thank you,” you tried again, clearer this time. “I appreciate that—”
“Azriel,” he filled in, not allowing you the possibility of a mistake. “My name is Azriel.”
You knew that. You knew all of their names as well as their faces. There were a few paintings shoved into the back of your closet that you had taken the time to study.
Did they shove them back there on purpose?
“It’s nice to meet you, Azriel.”
Azriel’s jaw quivered, his lashes fluttered.
He took a bite of salad.
“I don’t know if you’d be interested,” Cassian began, clearing his throat again. “But we used to—well, no, we currently have a weekly arrangement where you drag me to the theater and make me watch a show and I pretend I hate it but I actually have a great time.”
The lingering joy on his face made a small smile creep up onto your own.
“Sound fun to you? Might be nice to get out of that room.”
You took a deep breath, biting the inside of your cheek. This was a good sign, him wanting to spend time with you… him wanting to be in your presence and not break down into tears or anger or distaste.
“I would love to,” you said. “Although, I don’t know much about theater.”
Cassian dropped a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Wouldn’t expect you to know much about anything, sweetheart.”
Mor snorted the water she was drinking back into her glass, you let out a surprised, scoff-like laugh, and Cassian grinned from beside you, all teeth and snark and playfulness.
But Azriel.
Azriel stood up, his chair screeching as it pushed out abruptly. His napkin was clenched tightly in his hand and the rigidness from before was back and in full-swing. The shadows that had stayed with you for the duration of lunch zoomed back to their master, displacing the material of your dress as they went.
He had a bleak, hard look in his eye as he stared at no one.
“Azriel?” you asked, and it was the first time you’d started any semblance of a conversation on your own. Even when you spoke to Mor, she was the one prompting you to speak.
At the sound of your voice, Azriel quickly turned his gaze toward you, his eyes softening immediately. But just as quickly, his shoulders slumped, his napkin fell to the floor, and his hand came up to cover his mouth. “I—I’m incredibly sorry. I can’t do this.”
And then he was gone.
Part 3 ☾
#azriel x reader#azriel x you#azriel fanfic#azriel shadowsinger#azriel spymaster#azriel acotar#acotar fanfiction#azriel angst#acotar
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౨ৎ ˖ ࣪⊹ SAFEGUARD — dazai, chuuya, akutagawa
summary . . . they save you after you've been injured and captured by an enemy.
contents . . . sfw, f!reader (chuuya & dazai) and gn!reader (akutagawa), violence / blood, threats, injuries, hurt/comfort, angst, established relationship, and it's pmboss!dazai bc i can't help myself — 3.5k total
notes . . . i got this request so long ago lol. not my best work, but i have been in the worst writing slump ever and just wanted to finish something. i've also never written for akutagawa before so pls be nice <3
𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐔𝐘𝐀 . . .
there are very few times that chuuya feels he’s been outsmarted. he knows he’s not the mastermind of the port mafia, but he certainly isn’t a fool. when it comes to you and your well-being, though, his mind short-circuits, half of his intelligence draining away while his emotions take hold.
your relationship isn’t a secret to anyone in the port mafia, which means that it isn’t a secret to your enemies either. and while most people know it’s hard to land a finger on chuuya directly, his pretty little girlfriend doesn’t have the power of a god nestled inside of her.
the rage sparks through him, growing fiercely into the blaze of a forest fire, until all he can think of is getting you home safely. he thinks of your sweet smile as he rips the door of the enemies’ base off the hinges, crushing it into a million pieces with the force of gravity.
the men are quick to react, but chuuya hurtles the crushed door towards them, knocking three of them to their feet. another group charges at him, but their guns do little against his skill. after years of fighting some of the strongest ability users, simple criminal organizations are as easy to step over like ants.
chuuya kills them all — except for one.
the man’s knees are wobbling, hand shaking around the gun as he realizes that these will be his final moments. there is fear in his eyes, brown ones that rest wide open, and chuuya almost hesitates. his remorse doesn’t last long, though, before he’s wrapping a hand around the man’s throat, thrusting him backwards.
“where is she?” chuuya asks, voice sharp and commanding.
he can feel the man swallowing.
chuuya knows that backup is probably on the way, but it won’t matter whether they show up or not. he’ll crush the rest of his enemies just as he’s crushed the last twenty men. the poor soul in his leather hold seems to know that as well.
“i-i’ll take you to her,” he rasps, dropping his gun to claw at chuuya’s hand.
he drops him, lets him take a few heaving breaths and coughs, before he’s kicking at him, forcing him back to his feet.
the young man takes him up the elevator, weaves him through a hallway as chuuya leaves a scattering of bodies in his wake, not hesitating to kill a single man that gets in his way. there is nothing that can keep him from you.
how fiercely and loyally he loves you — it drives him to near insanity.
finally, with blood coating his face and his clothes, the young man enters a room, locked with a code, revealing you.
chuuya’s rage is almost as blinding as his corruption, as he gazes at the sight of you. bloodied and bruised, tied up in a chair, so visibly harmed. his hands clench into fists. “get the fuck away from her,” he says to the man who seems to be monitoring you.
“what are you doing in here?” the men left in the room panic, but they don’t have time to react before chuuya throws them back at the wall, so quickly, with so much force, that their spines snap. they hit it with a sharp crack, skulls shattering against the plaster, the wall crushing beneath the weight of them.
limply, they fall to the floor.
chuuya rushes over to you.
the young man that led him here disappears, but chuuya isn’t worried about him. he’s a coward; he’ll likely flee from the country and never look back. the men that truly hurt you are already dead, and he’ll burn this building to the ground once he’s gotten you away from it.
“hey,” chuuya says, cradling your cheeks gently, trying to coax you back awake. he’s not sure if it’s exhaustion, blood loss, or the obvious head trauma that caused you to pass out in the first place. but you’re still breathing, so he counts that as a blessing.
“hey,” he whispers again, kissing your forehead, like it will heal all your ailments. “wake up, baby. we gotta get you out of here, okay?”
it takes you a few seconds to come to, eyes glazed over and shell-shocked as you blink at him. “chuuya?” you say; your voice is so hoarse it makes chuuya want to keel over and vomit. “is it really you?”
guilt gnaws at him, almost crushing, at the fact that thirty-six hours passed, and you’re delirious enough not to recognize him. you probably haven’t eaten, either.
he should’ve been there. no one should’ve ever had the chance to hurt you, yet…
“it’s me, i’m here,” he says, kissing your lips, your temple, brushing your hair away from your face. the strands are sticky with blood. “shit,” chuuya nearly shouts, pulling a knife from his pocket, sawing through the thick ropes around you as quickly as he can. “i’m so sorry, i’m so sorry.”
he can’t get you free fast enough, and you smile at him, drowsy, your eyes fluttering shut once more. “it’s okay, chuuya,” you say, leaning your head on his shoulder. “you’re here now.”
“you have to stay awake,” he says desperately, realizing your head is still bleeding. he doesn’t know how hurt you are. chuuya’s no expert when it comes to medicine, but he’s smart enough to know that internal injuries could be even worse than the external ones.
“stay awake for me, okay, honey? i’ll get you back to the boss and we’ll find you a doctor. you’ll be just fine.”
“okay, chuuya,” you hum, weakly gripping his back. seconds of silence pass before you mutter, “i just want to go home.”
"i know." his heart pulls, and he almost lets out a cracked sob. but he refrains, knowing that there is plenty of time to drown in his sorrows later.
finally, he gets the ropes under, lifting you from the chair. you’re so much lighter, weaker, and it makes him sick as he carries you. “let’s get you home.”
𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐖𝐀. . .
the call comes just as akutagawa is getting ready to head home for the evening, his tasks completed, eyes heavy with exhaustion.
normally, he doesn’t stick around to say any goodbyes, sneaking off into the darkness of the night like a shadow, blending right in. but, something about the evening, so gloomy and drizzly with spring rain, feels off.
with a heavy knot in his chest, so much different than an incoming fit of coughs, akutagawa heads back up to mori’s office, if perhaps to only ensure that everyone else’s jobs had been completed. he’s a lot of things, but he’s never been a slacker; and he’ll do what it takes to ensure that his position in the mafia is eternally secure.
though, he doesn’t have the opportunity to get all the way upstairs before he run into the boss, who is calm, but with an air of irritation clouding him.
he explains the current situation to akutagawa in a clipped tone, bored — an enemy group has kidnapped you, holding you hostage.
“how rude is it to bother a man, just as he is getting ready to go to sleep?” mori says, sighing histrionically.
but what is a minor inconvenience to mori sends an entire wave of dread through akutagawa, his entire body feeling as if it’s been dipped in ice. he can’t explain the horror that washes over him, not really, because he shouldn’t feel so panicked. it is rare for him to get worked up about the danger his subordinates find themselves in, save for his sister, of course.
but you… you’re different.
“can i trust you to diffuse the situation?” mori asks, impatiently glancing at his watch as if that will change anything. “i can call someone else, but they will not be so quick.”
akutagawa doesn’t even think before he accepts the job, hating the way he sounds pathetically desperate for more details. his hands flatten the edge of his cloak, as if his ability is going to take on a mind of its own.
he calls for a driver, calm but breathing so heavily that an aching cough rises up in him. his throat feels as if it may begin to bleed, but he swallows, glances away from the driver and gets himself under control.
there’s a ransom — bring them the money and they’ll return you, mori had told him. you’re only a lower ranking member of the mafia, and someone that makes for a pretty poor bargaining chip, so the motive is questionable.
mori probably would’ve let you die, akutagawa knows, his teeth gritting together, so much so that a splintering sound comes from it. but the boss, in his infinite, concerning wisdom, seems to also know that his loyal dog has an soft spot for you.
as regrettable as that may be.
akutagawa has no doubt that whoever the enemy is, they are no match for him. still, a twinge of anxiety settles in his stomach, fingers jittery as the driver, despite the decreased traffic of the hour, seems to drive impossibly slow.
“are we not in a rush?” akutagawa snaps, leaning forward.
“apologies,” the driver, says, not daring to even look at akutagawa from the mirror. but the car speeds up, enough for akutagawa to be able to notice, at least. it cools the simmer that has already begun deep in his chest.
even so, the car seems to go at a snails pace, minute upon minute flying by, with you in the clutches of an enemy.
akutagawa doesn’t care who they are. he doesn’t care why, or how they captured you. he wants them dead. he’ll rip them apart, easily, and he’ll make them suffer — they’ll be alive for all of it, for every second that he peels the skin from their bones, ripping the smaller ones out of their sockets.
what he feels for you… well, it’s too hard for him to admit to himself. he has no experience with what it means to care for another person, doesn’t even know if that’s his goal. he just knows he wants to protect you.
and he can’t do that if you’re dead.
finally, the car pulls up to an old warehouse, one at the very outskirts of the port, beyond the docks and the shipping carts. it’s tucked far back, an obvious lair for some villainous organization that doesn’t want to be found.
akutagawa gets there, but there is nothing. he hears nothing, feels no signs of life as he trudges through the puddles left behind from the earlier rain.
a small string of panic begins again, as he wondered if maybe the call that mori had told him was only a ruse. maybe this entire time had been a distraction, a way to lure him away. there are other skill-users in the mafia, but none quite as dangerous as him.
though, he hears it, then. a small little sound, muffled and hoarse, full of pain.
he ducks into another corner of a warehouse, and you’re there — bound with chains and a gag across your mouth, one of your eyes blackened with bruises, your nose bleeding.
his heart aches. never in his life has he so quickly made his way over, used the sharp edges of his ability to shear through the chains, falling to his knees as he unbinds the cloth from your lips.
“where are they?” he rasps, mouth opening and closing, hating the sound of his own voice. he recognizes his desperation, his anger, but the affectionate sound that clips at the end is unfamiliar, as he shakily pulls himself closer to you.
you glance up at him, eyes glossy and wide, and though you are scared, hurt, he’s so thankful you are alive. his heart flips once, as you grasp at his cloak, the material that has the blood of so many staining the threads.
“gone,” you say, throat chalky, words nothing more than a note against the wind. “they fled when they heard it was you coming.”
“and left you?” he asks, jaw clenching, as he hopes that the emotions aren’t as visible on his features as he thinks they are. “were you not a ransom?”
“no,” you swallow, hard, as if in pain. he notices bruises around your neck, the shape of fingerprints indented there. “i was bait.”
anger rises up in him like a wave, engulfing him, wholly and relentlessly. he is no stranger to that, like he is the kindness you show him, the way you look at him as if he is your protector, rather than a bringer of destruction. “i’ll go after them. where are they headed? they’ll pay, i’ll slaughter—”
“ryunosuke,” you say, reaching for him as he stands, expression pleading as he backs away. “stay.”
he has half a mind to ignore you — the enemy escaped, after all. but your voice. your eyes… you look so small sitting there, bloodied and bruised and broken.
“please,” you try again, near tears, and though he has never been good with obvious displays of emotion, something within him snaps at the desperation in the word.
he nods, slowing his pace as he returns to you, lets you wrap yourself in him, cling to him. his hands fall, naturally, to your waist, somehow knowing where they belong, even if akutagawa never has a clue what he’s doing with you.
“i’ll call hirotsu,” he says simply, before pulling out his phone, not bothering to untangle himself from you.
𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈 . . .
dazai is not a forgiving man, and will never learn to be. forgiveness is not a luxury he is often able to indulge in in his line of work, and his heart has hardened enough that until the end of time, those that are branded his enemies will remain his enemies.
though, in his blackened heart, one soured over the course of time, you have carved out your own little space, lit it up with golden rays of light that are fiery enough to melt the stone casing of his chest.
his only love — his only weakness. but it is a weakness that his enemies know about as well.
dazai tries his best to keep you safe. he always has, and he knows that, sometimes, his grasp on you can be a little too tight. that the way he tries to keep you under his watchful eye can sometimes be stifling, frustrating.
but he can’t always be there to protect you. and it is in times like these, that he regrets letting you go without a bodyguard. he regrets that he listened to your insistence that you could keep yourself safe.
he should’ve at least told you to take a friend.
“boss,” his subordinate says, bowing his head, his voice pleading, desperate. “i’m so sorry. your wife—”
“if anything… anything happens to her, you will be the one responsible, do you understand?” dazai says, his eyes cold as he glowers down at the man, only a few inches shorter than him, but feeling so much smaller. “i will personally see that this act does not go unpunished.”
“of course, sir,” the man says, and he, at the very least, has the decency to sound resigned. to accept his fate and suffer the consequences, for allowing the boss’s wife to get herself into such a situation.
and dazai means it, every last word; if he finds you in a state closer to death, anyone who put you in harm’s way will be torn apart from the inside out. he isn’t able to think of anything but bringing you home safely, his hands shaking with rage as he sends more than enough people out on a search to find you.
with all the strings he’s able to pull as the mafia boss, it doesn’t take long to find you, for those that have bravely — or stupidly — used his wife as bait to come forward, and offer an attempt at some sort of negotiation.
there’s little of the conversation that dazai remembers on the phone, even less that he remembers after that. the anger bubbles up in him and grabs hold of his conscience, the emotion directing his movements with a mind of its own.
he’s already sent out every last one of his people into the field, ensuring that the organization that had the gall to threaten you is wiped off the face of the earth. deleted from every corner of the world, buildings flattened to the ground. by tomorrow, they won’t have ever existed.
today, he doesn’t care what happens as long as he finds you alive.
you’re held hostage by two men — so completely beaten that they’ve given up on any restraints. whatever they wanted from you, you seemed to refused to have given up, lip bleeding, eyes swelling so badly that you can’t even open them.
dazai doesn’t hesitate before pulling the trigger on the first man, then turning to the other, shooting the hand that holds the pistol. the man recoils, shouts, and drops the weapon completely, as dazai lands another bullet to his knee, causing him to fall.
slowly, dazai walks up, firing again to his other arm, a loud snap echoing throughout the room. the man winces, trying to crawl to the gun, one last desperate attempt to stay alive.
he kicks the gun away, watching, as, pathetically, the expression in the enemy’s face changes — any of his remaining hope vanishes.
“you told me she was unharmed,” dazai says, bending down, his coat flaring out behind him as he squats.
the man coughs, gasping for air as the blood seeps out of him. “we lied.” he smiles cruelly, and though he shares the same sort of darkness as those in the port mafia, there is something even more twisted in his smile.
dazai hums. “you the leader?”
the man doesn’t give an answer, but the slight twitch of surprise on his face is all dazai needs. he’s no one — just a grunt whose life was put on the line to guard you.
“didn’t think so.” dazai shoots him once, straight through the forehead, instantly killing him. but he is vindictive, angry, and the man he truly wants to destroy, the one who took you, is nowhere to be found. another bullet lands, tearing apart the flesh of his temple, then another, and one more, his skull beginning to cave in from the force of it all.
dazai heaves, letting the gun clatter to the ground as it runs out of bullets, and then he realizes, all this time, you’ve just been watching him. the ugliest side of him — the worst side of him.
you’re no stranger to it, of course. how can you be, when you’ve shared a life with him for years? but that doesn’t mean he wants you to see it, see how bloodthirsty he can become.
he stumbles over to you, where you’re still sitting on the ground, your wrist in your lap, bent at an angle that he knows isn’t right. bruises are littered across your skin, and your hair is matted from the blood that pools at your temple.
it takes every ounce of restraint he has to stay calm, a million feelings swirling under his skin. ones that he was never familiar with until he met you.
“i’m sorry,” he says, taking your face in his hands so, so softly, worried that he’ll hurt you even more. “i’m sorry, darling. i should’ve — i should’ve been there.” dazai notices his hands are shaking and he balls them up into fists, leaning back. “fuck. fuck — i’ll kill them all, just tell me who it was. anyone who laid a finger on you. i’ll cut them down one by one.”
“osamu,” you say, and your voice is raspy, cracking, as your unbroken arm reaches for him, squeezing his shaking hand. “i—”
you open your mouth to continue, but only tears come streaming down your cheeks, over your bloodied lips, saltiness soaking your jawline. no words don’t leave you, but a soft sob chokes itself up your throat.
“hey, hey, hey.” dazai’s voice softens, every muscle in his body relaxing as he draws you nearer to him, into his chest with a touch that’s barely there. “you’re safe. i’m here, okay? they’re not going to hurt you again, sweetheart.”
you sniffle, barely making a sound, but he can feel the tears drop onto his clothes, soaking the material.
“can you walk? are you hurt anywhere else?”
you hesitate for a moment before answering; he’s not sure if there’s a reason you only answer the first question. “i can walk.”
dazai nods, and though the rage is still bubbling there, underneath the surface, there is a coolant streaming through him at the vision of you alive. the men who did this will pay the price, but he still has you — and that’s all that matters.
thank you for reading !!! ❤︎
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