Cyan

Faithless Gods: Main Story

Intro / Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11

Art: Elvira and Munin!

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Faithless Gods: Lydia

Lydia (1) / Lydia (2) / Lydia (3)

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Faithless Gods: Athene

That’s right. Him. A priest.

Alec is going to lose his fucking mind.

Alec is a fisherman! It’s what his brothers and his father and his father before him and- you get the picture. It’s what practically everyone in his family has done. Priesthood? Not a single person in his family has done that before! The local priest has always been from the Hearne family and sure, old Aran doesn’t have kids and was supposed to get an eventual replacement from one of the neighbouring towns last year, but that doesn’t mean Alec is a good replacement. He does the rites as well as anyone but he has absolutely none of the training that priests are supposed to have. All he’s got going for him is the fact that the Hunter spared him on a whim. 

Maybe he could’ve made a decent priest in training if all this had happened a decade or two ago but he’s 30 now. That’s too old to go switching jobs, people usually start apprenticing in their teens!

His protests fall on deaf ears however, the people have decided. Clearly Alec is favoured by their God so clearly he is perfect priest material. Alec disagrees. So does old Aran.

“The ocean has no favourites boy,” the old priest grumbles as he climbs the steps to the light house. “And neither does the Hunter. Who knows their reasons for giving and taking? Not us! It’s not for us to know. They decide and we will live and die according to their whims. All we can do is pray and take things as they come. You think there’s anything special about you boy? You think you have swayed a God with your words alone?”

The old man turns around and prods his staff at Alec as he speaks those words. The fi- former fisherman now priest in training stumbles back and shakes his head. “What no, no I don’t-”

“Because you didn’t!” The old priest retracts his staff. “Our God is called the Hollow because it takes and takes with no end in sight, whoever and whatever it likes. If it hasn’t taken you it is only because it had no reason to take you, no reason not to spare you on a whim. And the same thing goes for those damn merchants! They think they can buy off a God? Ha! Their gifts are nothing! Nothing boy!”

The old priest nods his head and continues to climb the steps. The town’s lighthouse is both a functional lighthouse and the priest’s residence. Something about it being close to the ocean, probably. It stands on a small islet just a bit away from the main harbour meaning that it’s best, and really only, reachable by boat.

“Okay but, if none of our offerings matter. Why do we offer things to the Hunter?” It’s a fair question and not one Alec has really thought about much before his encounter with the God. Offerings, prayers, festivals, they’re all traditions he grew up with. He never thought about them.

“Who said anything about them not mattering boy!” Alec is getting pretty tired of being called boy. “I said that they are nothing to the God. And yet we must continue to pray, and make offerings, and make sacrifices because it is wise to pay our respects regardless. And it is important for us to remember what we are, in the grand scheme of things. It is important for us to remember what is out there.”

The two of them reach the front door of the lighthouse and Alec can’t help but look up in awe. It’s not anything specific, it’s not like it’s some grand building. It’s tall, sure, but it’s not that grand. Something about the building just feels good though, it’s got a good feeling to it. A bit eerie, sure, but what out here isn’t? A wind chime hangs by the door, chiming away as the ocean’s breeze rushes past. The wind is practically a constant so he doubts that thing is ever quiet.

“Follow my lead boy, and don’t go touching nothin!”

The old priest opens the door with a key from his necklace and steps inside, Alec follows. They climb the stares and old Aran tells his new reluctant apprentice about each level as they pass it. The provisions room, the oil room, the kitchen, the bedroom and the room of worship. That last one really just looks like a library filled with knick-knacks of all kinds.

“And the light room. This one is especially important. Know why boy?” The old priest squints at Alec, who rushes to answer. “Because eh, because it’s a sign of our worship?”

“Fool!” The old priest brandishes his staff at Alec and hits him in the shins. “Fu- hey!” 

“Obviously it’s so that our boats don’t crash into anything as they return, you moron! Fool boy!”

The old man brandishes his staff at Alec once again and he raises his hands in defense. “No light is bad, don’t want any boats crashing I’ve got it I’ve got it!” With one last squinty-eyed look the staff is lowered. “Should’ve gotten a damn apprentice last year. Even that bright-eyed girl was more promising,” he grumbles. “You’ve got much to learn still boy! But we will get there you and I, you’ll learn. I’ll make sure of it.”

Alec grimaces at the thought of apprenticing under this guy. He didn’t seem half this bad whenever he came out for the rites and ceremonies, but to be fair Alec mostly saw him from a distance during those events. Most of the time outside of that he’d be here, at the lighthouse.

The former fisherman looks around the lightroom, then takes a look outside. There’s a small balcony that surrounds the entirety of the lighthouse.

“Take a step outside boy, you’ll have to get used to those winds.” Alec looks back at the old priest and gives him a nod, then steps outside. 

He grabs onto the railing as soon as he does. They’re high up here and those winds are harsh. The view though?

The view is amazing. He can see the whole harbour from here. Actually, he’s about eye level with the spot that the God dropped him off at last time. 

“Nice view eh?” the old man calls from inside. “But we’ve got more important things to get done right now boy. Get back in here we’ll get those lessons started. “

Alc nods and takes one more look at the sight around him, the sight below him. He can see people moving about at the harbour and they look so tiny from here. If this is how the God sees them then he can see why they’re so insignificant to it.

The newly made priest’s apprentice turns around and steps inside.

-

-

-

The first few months are hell. 

Okay, so that might be a bit of an exaggeration, but Alec was not meant for reading this many books. He’s- He was a fisherman from a line of fishermen, he was used to going out there and doing this. This? This whole sitting in one place and just keep the light burning thing? It’s not him. 

Doing the rites is awkward at first but surprisingly not terrible. He doesn’t mind doing most of them, even the ones where he has to gut a few animals. He was never a butcher but he’s still pretty used to those kinds of things. His favourite has to be the heather rites. Those were his favourite as a kid and now he gets to actually help some of the kids with them. He likes teaching them how to weave flower crowns from stubborn flowers, he likes braiding smaller flowers into the hair of some of the younger kids. 

He always liked helping out his younger siblings when it came to those kinds of things and after they grew up he always figured he could help out their kids once they had them too, now he gets to do this for pretty much all the kids in the village. All the ones who need the help anyways, it’s pretty amazing.

So maybe the whole priest thing isn’t the complete worst, but the books are still pretty awful. The boring ones especially. 

Oh, and the prays. The prayers are, admittedly, just a little awkward when he’s met the Hunter in person. It’s one thing to worship a God from a distance, it’s something else entirely to have met the God in person and to have found out just how genuinely terrifying they are. And. How weirdly childish and teasing.

He remembers the life debt that it called on him and those first few days he lives in fear of it returning for that very reason. Maybe it’ll want something from him, maybe it’ll actually take his life next time.

Or maybe it’s already forgotten all about him.

Because those first few months pass in silence, outside of the expected chaos of adjusting to a whole new job and the duties that come with it. And then the first year passes and he still doesn’t hear anything. When the second year comes around Alec starts to think that maybe he just wasn’t important enough for the God to remember. And there’s a comfort in that. He’s just another human, probably just one of the many that the Hunter has encountered throughout the ages. Just one of who knows how many that it has decided to spare on a whim, and that’s okay. That’s good! That means that maybe, just maybe, Alec can actually have a normal life. Fisherman turned priest or not.

The second year passes and old Aran passes with it. 

The ceremony is small but respectable, the old priest served the community well in the time that he lived here. He was a local, born and raised, and everyone in town knew him. Alec is sure that he’ll be remembered by everyone who met him, however briefly. He was the memorable type of person.

The guy was grumpy and he liked to hit Alec with that staff way too much. He would snore and make Alec do all the cooking and cleaning. He’d always call him out as soon as he made any mistake and complain about the food not being salty enough.

But, all things considered, he was good people. Alec was glad to have met him in the end and if he had to choose anyone to mentor him in this- Okay maybe he would’ve chosen someone that would hit him less. But he’s glad that it was Aran in the end.

So it’s up to Alec to doo all the priestly duties that the town is in need of now, and it’s a lot of work but he doesn’t mind doing it as much as he thought. Life is different than before, when he was a fisherman, but it isn’t that bad. It’s pretty good actually.

The third year rolls around, no different from any year before-

and Alec jumps as he hears a banging sound come from upstairs. That’s gotta be in the top ten sounds you love to hear in a lighthouse at night. Banging. From upstairs. For a moment he hopes it’s his imagination. Maybe he just hasn’t been getting enough sleep. Maybe he just drank a bit too much of the good stuff. 

Forget the fact that he’s only had one glass tonight. He isn’t irresponsible enough to get drunk while on duty. He has to keep that light burning, not because of any deity but because of the people that might rely on it.

For just a moment he lets himself think that he imagined it, and then there’s that banging noise again and he knows that he didn’t. Three loud sounds as something hits the roof of the lighthouse, followed by utter silence.

He didn’t imagine that. He did not imagine that those sounds are actually there. Which means that there’s something making those sounds. And how many things are out there that could cause something like that? Not a whole lot that he knows of but he knows one thing that could hit the roof like that but have enough control over its power to not destroy it completely. 

“I know you’re there songbird.”

He knows that voice, he remembers that voice. Even if he didn’t have nightmares about it even to this day it’s impossible to mistake that voice for anything other than Godly. But more terrifying than that, more terrifying than the voice itself, is the nickname it calls him by.

Songbird.

It remembered.

So much for being insignificant and forgettable.

There’s another loud sound as he hears something hit the side of the building now, rather than the rooftop. 

“Are you really gonna make me wait? Because I could wait all night but I don’t want to.”

Right. Right. Fuck. Alec has no option but to listen. If he doesn’t then it’ll probably just tear the lighthouse apart like paper and grab him anyways to do something worse than whatever it’s planning on doing right now. The priest steels himself and grabs onto the railing with his free hand. Time to meet his fate then. He was really hoping it had forgotten about him. He walks up the stairs on shaky legs and stares up at the God.

It’s looking in through the glass, giant glowing eyes peeking inside and staring at the priest. The distance between him and it feels much too small with only the much too thin glass between them. Impossibly, it seems bigger than he remembers. Much bigger. In his nightmares it’s always gigantic but its size feels unrealistic, absurd. The fact that those are dreams mean that they don’t feel as this does. This feels much too real, because it is. 

“There you are.”

he sees just the flash of the sharp grin that exists mostly out of sight as it’s really just part of its face that’s visible right now. He’s about as tall as its eye. It wasn’t like that before, right? He doesn’t remember it being that big before. But he also remembers how its size seems to shift so it’s definitely very much possible that it’s just like this right now.

“Come on outside why don’t you?” it croons as him. “It’s been a while. How long has it been? Hey don’t tell me your hearing has gone bad, it hasn’t been that long has it?”

Alec is once again reminded of how childish this God is. It’s probably a heretical thing to think but that doesn’t make it any less true. And again, it doesn’t make the God any less terrifying. Just more so. The priest takes a few more shaky steps and heads on outside. He has no choice. Or rather, he had only terrible choices.

“Divine Guardian,” Alec starts to speak as he steps outside.”It’s- an honour to see you again.” he bows down, lowering his head to the ground.

“I bet it is,” it laughs at him. “How have you been little songbird? How long has it been?” Every word causes a tremor to go through his body. It’s loud, it’s loud and heavy and too much.

“It’s been three years, our Divine.” He doesn’t look up at it, it takes all the courage he’s got to just keep his eyes focused on the floor in front of him and talk. The God makes a humming sound.

“That’s a bit isn’t it? Guess I lost track of time. Ah well, it happens. Now.. Hey, come a bit closer, get on.” Alec looks up in confusion, then in fear as he sees the God right in front of him. It’s holding out its hand which is practically the size of a small room. It wants him to-

Alec swallows, his throat is dry as hell honestly it’s a miracle he’s been able to keep talking at all. His heart beats and beats and he remembers this fear. He remembers the way his life feels so tiny and insignificant compared to this thing. This natural disaster. This God.

Lydia the Hunter. Lydia the Hollow who takes and takes and takes as much as it wants to, who is never full.

He stands up and takes a shaky step forward, followed by another. Then another. He steps onto the God’s hand, his life now literally in the palm of its hand. It feels strange, stranger than he remembers though that might be time making him forget those details. Weird how much he remembers and how much he doesn’t, how much feels different.

Slowly it lowers the hand down, lower and lower until it reaches the ground. 

“Okay off you go.” It takes Alec a moment to register the command. His brain is barely even caught up with the situation he’s in as is. As soon as it registers he scrambles to leave the hand he’s on. The priest has to slide down the side of the hand just to get to the ground. He’s so small, so small compared to it. Even lowered as its torso is it still towers over him.

“Now.”

It grins down at him with teeth that are nearly as big as he is tall, and if that wasn’t enough they look sharp as knives too. Then it sets down its hands on both of his sides and lowers itself to the ground even more, leaning towards him with a grin.

“Let’s talk about that life debt. Because I have some ideas in mind about how you might repay me.”

Alec sinks into a kneeling position, his mind racing at those words. Repay it? How could he possibly repay it? What could he ever have, or do, that could ever matter to it at all?

“As you say, whatever it is you desire. How may I repay you, our Divine?”

The Hunter’s grin widens and there’s a sharp gleam to its eyes as it stares down at the priest.

“With food.”

Oh. 

He’s dead.

The Knowledge that she, all Gods, inherit? It’s messy. When she was summoned she didn’t immediately inherit every memory of every Vyrin before her. Well, she kind of did, but also not really? It’s background knowledge. It’s like someone put an enormous library in the back of her mind that contains over a millennium’s worth of books, but they forgot to hand her the keys and instead a book is just occasionally thrown out the window and at her head. Most of the Knowledge she receives is triggered by events that remind her of things that she, Elvira, never experienced. 

She sees a Beast and remembers its weaknesses because she’s fought it before. Except she didn’t, that was Marie. She sees a plant and knows how to extract fibres from it to make fabric for clothes because she’s done that before. Except she didn’t, that was Elijah. She spots an altar on one of her patrols-

She..

She spots an altar and remembers how she demanded a sacrifice at least once every ten years, because she got bored and she needed them to remember to fear her. Except that wasn’t her. It was Annan.

Except she didn’t do anything to stop it either.

She remembered it a few days before the actual sacrifice happened. She could’ve walked up to any human establishment and said ‘Hey, about those human sacrifices, don’t’. She had days to do that! But she never did. Because any time she even thought about walking up to any human town she imagined those eyes looking up at her and she just-

She was terrified.

For two years she had managed to avoid human towns while keeping them safe from Beasts. For two years she watched them from a distance and for two years she remembered so many ways that Annan hurt them, or ways in which they hurt Marie and Elijah and so many others. 

For two years she remembered the way she froze up in front of classrooms, the way people talked behind her back, the way her parents would stare down at her.

For two years she had avoided people, but for those same two years she had been so very lonely.

Han was a surprise. A Beast that became a familiar, it’s something that shouldn’t be possible. No matter how much she thought about it she wasn’t reminded of any precedent. The closest thing to an answer was the subject of abilities, so Han must be her ability. Or, connecting to them was her ability? Vyrin’s ability is always sight-related and she could see through the Beast’s eyes, so their connection must be because of her ability. Whatever the cause, she was grateful for her connection. Honestly it felt like Han’s presence was the only thing keeping her sane (or relatively sane) at times. But, pleasant company or not, Han wasn’t enough.

She was still lonely.

So. She let the ceremony happen and even braved the eyes of strangers on her to retrieve the guy that was sacrificed to her. If it had really been about her anxiety then she wouldn’t have shown up at all, but the truth is that it wasn’t just about that. No.

She accepted the sacrifice not because she was scared of having to talk to people to stop it but because she was even more scared of being alone.

Munin (his name was Munin) is just one person. She can handle one person. Maybe. Hopefully. She’s trying. And sure, she isn’t great at talking. But.

But.

It’s better than nothing.

They had a rough start, because of course they did because she’s awful at those things. And with those things she means people. She’s awful at people. So, rough start. But there was a start! There was something. And then he talked to her, and then he looked at her when she asked him to.

But he didn’t look at her the way she was hoping for.

It was probably too much to ask though. For him to look at her as a person.

(She remembers how she wanted them to look at her as a person. Except she didn’t that was-)

(She remembers how she wanted them to look at her and fear her. Except she didn’t that was-)

And she messed up. She messed up so bad. He was terrified of her! And if she were any better, any smarter or braver or just overall better, she would have comforted him in a way that was just- Just better. And if she had people skills she could have smiled and been warm. And if she wasn’t just so- so scared of lowering those walls she had been taught to maintain her whole life? If she was just a bit braver? She could’ve talked to him, with him, and explained everything. She could’ve told him why she didn’t want to let him go home. She could’ve told him what she really wanted from him. She tried, she really did. But words are just so-

Terrifying.

Talking is terrifying. She over-thinks and stresses and worries and then she says something and then she wishes she had never said anything at all. But she’s been trying! And Munin has done most of the talking but she has done some of it too. And she thought maybe, just maybe, maybe it was okay? She was selfish, she knew she was being selfish, but she thought she could live with it. She thought she could live with what she was doing. Keeping him there against his will. Just to not be alone. She thought maybe, just maybe, someday he could look at her and see a person.

Maybe someday they could talk about their favourite colours, and share stories. And maybe someday he could, not forgive her for her selfishness but maybe grow to understand it? A stupid idea, but maybe. 

Maybe they could sit together in silence, like they did that day, and sketch and embroider and be comfortable with that.

Maybe someday she could have a home, with her and Han and a friend to-

It was a stupid idea. It was so dumb. Idiotic. Moronic. It was selfish, and greedy, and how could she ever ask him to look at her and not just see the worst parts with what she had done to him? 

She had inherited the Knowledge of the others before her and even though she doesn’t know everything about them, she should have known that none of them ever got happy endings.

(She didn’t want a happy ending. She just wanted a happy somewhere-inbetween.)

She had known, at least to some extent, what Annan had done to humans before.

(But didn’t they deserve it?)

(They didn’t. Not all of them.)

(Right?)

She had wanted too much. She had been too unrealistic. Sacrifices aren’t friends, they’re sacrifices. They’re. Given. Owned. Discarded.

They’re not safe. Not happy. Not healthy.

Vyrin is a New God. A warrior God. A Divine Guardian, a protector of the Kingdom. Vyrin is the Vigil. The Watcher. And she is Elvira, yes. (Her name is Elvira.) But she is also Vyrin.

And Vyrin’s life is not a happy one. It never is.

Battles are expected. Death, combat, violence and broken bones and bleeding wounds and (hearts ripped out of chests skulls caved in by giant teeth limbs torn apart by sharp-)

Violence is expected, but she thought that if she just kept him at home he would be safe. Just like all the other humans she’s been protecting from Beasts.

She didn’t think he’d be a target.

Even the smallest town has hidden passageways, just in case a Beast attacks and people have to be evacuated. Her home doesn’t have that. She didn’t think she needed that. She’s the fighter, she doesn’t run. She can’t run.

(A golden chain is wrapped around her heart. It’s not as tight as it could be, the leash has been removed, but it’s there nonetheless.) 

So, here’s the thing. The Thing. The problem. 

She doesn’t like it when people get hurt.

She can keep her walls as high as she likes. She can school her expression and make use of her resting bitch face. She can stay quiet and observe and try to keep as much emotional distance as she likes, but she cares.

She cares so much.

She thought she could live with being selfish but she can’t. Not when she feels his heartbeat in the palm of her hand and knows it’s too fast to be normal. Not when she leaves to hunt Beasts and rushes back as she sees one in her own home through Han’s eyes. Not when she returns and finds him, Munin (his name is Munin), hurt and broken and bleeding and limp (skulls between teeth tiny bodies crushed in ruthless hands cruel laughter cruel anger at the world at humans at chains and ties and anger anger so much anger)

That’s not her. It’s not her. And she’s tried but it isn’t her, she can’t do it. She can’t be that selfish. She can’t be that cruel. She wishes she could, God she wishes she could be selfish and cruel and just not care about the way people think and look at her. But she cares so much.

And as she rushes through the trees, sword on her back and (human) Munin in her hands, all she can think is ‘no more’. No more sacrifices. No more selfish choices. It’s time to be better, it’s time to be brave.

(They’ll use her for that, they’ll kill her for that)

She isn’t brave but she’ll have to be. She has to be for this next part.

Vyrin is a New God, a warrior God. They’re not a healer, not ever. Not a single one of them has ever been a healer-

(he was going to be a doctor)

-okay not a single one of them has actually been an efficient healer after getting summoned. Like all of her predecessors Elvira is also a fighter (a weapon) and all she has is her eyes and the flat-ended sword on her back meant for carving and cutting. She can’t help Munin.

(She could put the human out of his misery)

She can’t help him in any way that matters, but someone else can. She’s watched people through Han’s eyes for two years now, she knows where all the towns are. She knows how to find a healer.

Ahlgren is a tiny village, not just in size but also in population with less than 40 inhabitants, located at the borders of the kingdom. It’s partially hidden under the roots of a great tree and partially underground for the sake of safety. 

As she approaches the tiny village, fear and despair wage war inside the young woman’s heart. She needs help. She wants help. She needs to get help. She’ll have to ask for help.

She’ll have to ask for help.

As she approaches she sees two people flee beneath the roots of the great tree. Guards, or something like that. People who were posted at the borders to keep an eye out for Beasts, or worse, a cruel God. They’re probably running off to warn people to stay in their homes or take shelter in the tunnels or whatever else, it doesn’t matter. 

“Come back.”

She sounds calmer than she is and the words come out more as an order than as the desperate plea that they are. She’s terrible with words. Fear makes her raise her walls and board up the windows to her soul (and she’s always scared). 

It’s probably for the best right now, though. Maybe it’s better if they’re scared right now. Maybe it’s better if she sounds like the cruel God they believe her to be, because if that’s what they believe her to be then they’ll listen to what she has to say.

She needs them to listen to what she has to say.

The two people freeze in place as she calls out to them and after just a moment one takes the other’s hand and turns them both to face her. Sort of, since neither is actually looking up at her. They kneel and keep their gazes lowered to the ground.

“Divine Guardian-”

She doesn’t have time for this. She doesn’t want this. (She never did)

“Take him to a healer.”

Elvira sinks to the ground, dirtying her trousers with soil as she drops to her knees. Two humans kneeling in front of a God and a God kneeling back at them, what a sight they make. She tries to be as gentle as she can while holding Munin out in front of them but she can’t help the tremor that runs through her hands. She’s losing time. How much blood has she lost? He needs help. Please please they have to help her. Words are hard and fear clogs her throat and silences her if it didn’t she would be begging she would be pleading. She doesn’t know what to say to them to make them listen, she doesn’t know what to say to fix this. She can’t fix this, that’s why she needs them. This village has a healer, she knows. It’s all she can do.

The two glance up at her hands for just a second but one of them immediately lowers his gaze again.

“Take him to a healer.”

Her tone is more insistent this time. Damn divinity. Damn godhood and all of that  bullshit and whatever fucking religion is based around her it’s dumb as hell just listen and look and help already damn it! Please, just please.

“Now.”

She pushes her hand towards the guard that hasn’t lowered her head and for just a moment her gaze flickers up at the God in front of her. Then the guard lowers her head again, bows, stands up again and with shaky hands reaches out to take Munin from her cusped hands. Elvira tries to stay as still as possible.

Her hands keep shaking. Her face is blank, it always is when she’s terrified, but she just can’t stop her hands from shaking.

“Your will be done we will take him to our best healer.” The guard lifts Munin with great effort and takes a step back. Her partner glances up at her with a disbelieving look and she just gives him a subtle kick to sign for him to follow her, which he does after bowing to Elvira. And again. And ag-

“Go.”

“Yes mylo- I mean your Divinity, Divine. Yes.” He stumbles over his words and helps his partner carry Munin as they retreat back under the tree’s roots. 

For a moment Elvira stays there, kneeling in the dirt and staring at the spot where the three of them disappeared underneath the tree. Her hands are shaking. Her hands are shaking.

She takes a shuddering breath and pushes herself off of the ground.

She should go, she shouldn’t be here. They were terrified of her and she is terrified of them. She’s been terrified of people’s stares all her life but somehow, people’s refusal to look at her feels all kinds of awful too. Just in a different way.

She hates this.

She hates herself.

She shouldn’t have done that, she shouldn’t have taken Munin. She should’ve taken him and left him at another village. She should have died when she was first summoned.

(She doesn’t want to die.)

Elvira isn’t a God, she cann’t be. Gods don’t feel this helpless, right? They shouldn’t. None of them were ever Gods. Marie, Marta, Elijah and even Annan.

Especially Annan.

None of them were ever Gods. Neither is Elvira.

She wouldn’t want to be. 

She never asked to be.

“Do you have other things that you like to do?” He looks up at the God who is setting on the ground next to his table, as always. “Personally I like to read too, but woodcarving is also a bit of a hobby. I’m not as good at it as I could be but it’s a nice way of passing the time, especially when I don’t have paper and a pencil on hand. It usually isn’t difficult to find some wood to work with and I nearly always had a knife of some sort on me. Not anymore, but, you know.” He shrugs lightly, then leaves a pause for Elvira to respond. Which it does, eventually.

“Other than, embroidery. Weaving.Those things..” There’s a brief pause and Munin thinks these pauses might just be because of it contemplating what to say before speaking, more than anything else. There always seems to be a weight behind its words, more than just the physical weight of the sound of its voice. “Drawing is nice, too.” The words hang in the air for just a moment. “And gardening.”

He nods at that. Not too surprising, considering the plants he saw in that first room. “Gardening sounds great, though I’ve never had a consistent enough schedule to really get into it. There are times that I’d travel and you can’t exactly keep a good garden if you leave all the time, right? Plants take some care.” The fact that it is capable of taking care of plants like that is a good sign.

The God’s gaze falls on him and Munin makes the conscious choice to keep his posture as casual as possible. “What work did you do?”

Oh, that’s a dangerous question. But also, does it not know? The symbolism of Vyrin’s Eye is present everywhere in the city, everywhere in the town, just to remind people of the fact that Vyrin is always watching. Then again why should a God care to watch the everyday life of each human in the kingdom? It probably has more important things to concern itself with, or more important people to watch if it does so.

“Nothing too interesting,” he gives a slight chuckle and hopes he isn’t about to fuck up. But what else is he supposed to do? Lie to the ever-watching God? The Watcher? “And nothing too legal either. I guess I just took jobs wherever I could, did whatever I had to to make some money. I’m..” He’s about to say that he isn’t proud of what he does, but that might be a lie. He’s proud of plenty of the things that he’s done, and he’s certainly proud of the skills that he grew into over time. 

“I’ve done some less than moral things, I must confess. I’ve killed, I’ve stolen, I’ve broken the law more times than I can count.”

How many people ever get the chance to confess to their God? Not just in prayers but in true physical proximity? It’s not necessarily a good thing, definitely not, but it’s definitely something special. 

Munin has never cared much for being special. Not when it’s because of circumstance rather than skill.

He looks up at the God and, unsurprisingly, finds its expression as blank as always. He wonders why it looks like this, the stories don’t say anything about Vyrin being expressionless and cold so it must be unique to this incarnation.

..Cold doesn’t feel like the right word for it though. If Elvira was truly cold then it wouldn’t have gotten him those papers, it wouldn’t have remembered that he likes to draw and that he has an interest in plants. So what do you call something like this?

“Did you like it.” It stares down at him and he thinks that while it’s eyes aren’t cold, there’s definitely something there. A wall, perhaps. Something between him and it that prevents him from getting a read on its feelings.

“No.” Munin thinks for a moment, then corrects himself. “Not usually. Sometimes though, some people just deserve it. And sometimes killing helps those who don’t.”

In the end, what it really comes down to is the right of the strongest. But the right of the strongest doesn’t mean that those who are weak deserve whatever happens to them. It’s the way the world works, but it’s not necessarily the way the world should be. Especially when society has decided that more often than not strength is measured in connections and money rather than physical capability. At least if it came to physical capability, more people would have the opportunity to rise to the top regardless of where they were born.

“Do you like it?” Vyrin is cruel, Vyrin plays games. But this Vyrin wants to be called Elvira and, even though it took him and won’t let him go home, it shows him kindness. The silence stretches out and Munin tries not to fidget with his sleeves.

“No.” Elvira looks at him. It continues to look at him. It’s looking at him more than yesterday, does it like what it sees? Munin hopes it does.

“I don’t want to kill anyone.” 

That’s a good sign, definitely. Assuming it isn’t lying, but why would it? There’s little to no point in lying to Munin when it can really do whatever it wants. Its gaze is heavy though, and for some reason Munin feels like there is more to be said. So he stays quiet and waits for it to continue.

His patience is rewarded.

“I don’t enjoy killing Beasts, either.”

Now that, that’s more surprising. or maybe it just means that it just doesn’t care for killing them? It’s a warrior God, it can’t mean that it dislikes killing them right?

“It’s just. Something, that must be done.”

Munin nods in understanding. He doesn’t actually understand but that’s irrelevant. For a moment the two simply sit in peace, then Elvira glances at something, somewhere in the distance, and stands up.

“I’ll be back.”

It’s the same as that other time. Is it a Beast then? Or some other issue that requires its attention? Whatever it is, it leaves and Munin stays behind. Looks like he’s got something between the next few minutes and the next few hours to himself then.

He finishes his breakfast and puts aside his sketches. With Elvira gone this is as good a time as any to make use of that lake. The assassin, perhaps former assassin at this point, removes his clothing and his shoes to take a dip in the water. They’re still a bit cold, probably in part because  it’s morning and the sun has barely  set, but not unpleasantly so. He lets himself sink deeper into the water and wishes he had some kind of soap to work with. Maybe he’ll mention the subject to Elvira and see what happens. If it really cares about anything he says, it might just give him soap if it thinks he wants some.

It’s a weird feeling, knowing that he might be able to trick the God into doing things for him. Is it really trickery if it’s doing these things of its own free will though? It kind of feels like it. Heretical. There’s that word again. He’s only ever been as faithful as he’s had to be to survive.

He lets himself float in the water for some time, basking in the sun that’s just peeking  in through the window. It’s a pleasant feeling, calming and entirely off-putting. When was the last time he had this much free time? He lets himself float around for just a while longer before he decides to get out of the lake and get dressed again. It’s a good thing that these clothes aren’t white. Then again, that might’ve been useful for the sake of testing something else related to the God.

…

He wraps the shirt back around himself and makes sure to keep the neckline low. Just for potential future experiments. There’s no real harm in it, right? From what he’s seen so far the God, Elvira, isn’t really good but it is kind. In a weird way. It doesn’t want to kill humans. He doesn’t think it even wants to harm them, going by how careful and gentle it’s been with him so far. 

He’s about to get back onto the table when he hears a sound, somewhere in the distance. It comes from the hallway that the God walks down whenever it arrives or leaves this area, meaning that this hallway leads somewhere to the outside, either directly or indirectly. It doesn’t sound like the God though, instead of sounds like something sharp is hitting wood. There it is again, the loud sound that almost resembles an axe as it crashes against a tree. It’s followed by an equally loud thunk, then by a loud crashing noise. It sounds like something the size of a building, or something much larger than even that, falling down.

It sounds like an oversized door falling apart and falling over.

For a moment Munin freezes as his breath catches and his heart stutters in his chest. That doesn’t sound like Elvira. That isn’t Elvira. Immediately he scans his surroundings. Is there anywhere he can hide? Anything he can use as cover? The legs of the table in front of him are tall and wide enough to hide behind, but he’d be found much too easily if whatever that was is any good at looking. What then? What else is there? He remembers how Elvira put  him on its shoulder yesterday, how its back was against the stone wall. The stone wall which is partially covered in vines. 

He spots a part that has a good amount of vines and immediately bolts towards it. That, that should do it. Hopefully. It isn’t perfect but it’s something and there aren’t a lot of other options. With a practiced grace he latches onto the vines and begins to climb up. Don’t think about how high you’re going, don’t think about the crashing sound or the near-metallic sounds of slithering that he’s starting to hear approaching. Just climb. Keep climbing. Don’t stop until you get as high as you can.

When he hears the sound of metallic clanking and slithering getting closer and closer he can’t help but look down. He doesn’t mind the height, he’s used to climbing across rooftops and trees and even some of the major flora at times. The height isn’t scary, no. What’s  terrifying is the thing that just entered the room. The Beast.

He’s never seen a Beast before, in fact he doesn’t think anyone’s seen one in ages, and he really could’ve lived out the rest of his life never seeing one. How much he would have loved to have never seen one in person. He’s heard the descriptions of them, twisted bodies of ashen grey and scorched black and awful gold, but he’s never cared to see one in person. But here he is. And there it is.

The thing is a little taller than his table and vaguely looks like a snake, in the way that it’s long and slender and coiling and twisting around to move. But whatever it has for a face is wrong, it’s sharp and jagged all fangs and not a single eye to be seen. Somewhere in the middle it splits into two, no, three and at  the tips of its tails are shining ashen grey blades. Its body is partially sleek like metal and partially scaled with golden cracks shimmering in between, reflecting whatever little sunlight hits it. It has no eyes but Munin hides nonetheless. Better safe than sorry. He’s not going to apply biology to something as unholy as a Beast, Gods know that logic doesn’t apply to those things. 

Munin tries to stay as still as possible as its head swivels around the room, then it starts  to make a low-pitched sound. Something between a hissing and a clicking, he watches as its head swivels around and those fangs on its face expand and retract. Then, it becomes quiet. For a moment Munin dares to hope that this is it. There’s nothing here, so it can leave. Please just leave.

His hopes are shattered as its head roars back and it lets out a high-pitched shriek. The sound is awful, like some unholy mixture of nails on chalkboard and shattering glass. Not even Munin, with all of his training and experience in stealth, can hold back a flinch as the shriek appears out of nowhere. And then its head snaps towards him.

He is so fucked.

No point in hiding anymore, time to keep climbing. he tries to ignore the thing as it darts towards him, its three tails propelling it forward with a Gods-awful sound as its metallic parts scrape across the ground at high speeds. Munin climbs and climbs and-

-is nearly torn away from the vines as an unholy awful-looking and absolutely fucking terrifying mouth clamps down on the vines just a bit beneath him. There’s a tearing sound as vines are torn down and away from the wall and while Munin isn’t caught in those teeth, he’s still dragged down as the vines that he’s climbing are dragged down. He tries to go for a spot of vines nearby but only manages to slow his fall. He doesn’t land as badly as he could have but he can feel his left arm dislocate as it catches onto a vine about halfway through before the vine gives way.

Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck this is bad this is so bad. Only half aware of his surroundings Munin scrambles for the wall but he barely makes it a few steps before something slams into him and he’s flung back. His head hits the ground with a crack and for a moment everything goes dark, then he opens his eyes again and sees stars. He’s dead. He’s so dead.

He blinks up and makes out a gigantic shape, it’s the Beast. It’s coiling in on itself, like a spring ready to launch, and when it does-

-it’s halfway towards him when it’s interrupted by a much larger shape crashing into it. For a moment Munin thinks, hopes even, that it’s Elvira. But no. That would be lucky and luck really isn’t on his side today, is it? Because what crashes into the snake-like Beast is yet another Beast, this one at least twice the size of the other. He tries to scramble up but everything is spinning and he can’t, he can’t quite lift his head. The edges of his vision fade to black again and he ends up back on the ground, his head tilted sideways as he watches the battle between monsters that’s going on far too close to him.

The Beast that interrupted the other is large and fox-like, or maybe cat-like, it’s hard to say. It looks feral and predatory but more in a wild rugged way where the other beast is sleek and streamlined. It has fur that looks a dark shade of black with grey ends in some spots. The black isn’t just dark, it looks like it draws in the light around it. The only exceptions to this are two bright glowing points on its head that his eyes can’t help but be drawn towards. Its eyes are a glowing shade of molten gold.

The gold of its eyes is the same colour as the snake-Beasts blood, apparently, as it bites down on the other Beast’s torso and tears it in two with a snap of its head. Like a cat catching a mouse, this new Beast seems to outclass the other by far.

And then its golden eyes turn to Munin.

He can’t move, can’t talk, can barely breathe as it approaches him. It isn’t in a rush, and why would it be? It’s not like he can run. It’s not like he can do anything at all, nothing that could save his life at least. And Munin is kind of done feeling like he’s constantly left to the mercy of things bigger than him. Unlike with the God though, he knows that this thing won’t show any such mercy. At best it might eat him quickly, at best his death might be fast. The Beast reaches his side in no time and its head lowers to the ground, right next to him.

It gives him just the slightest nudge with the tip of its snout. Then is sits down next to him, plopping down on all fours.

Is that how it’ll be then? Is it going to watch him die before eating him? It doesn’t make sense. Most stories speak of Beasts killing and devouring humans, not necessarily in that order, whenever they see them. Then again, if there’s anything that these past few days have taught him it’s that he shouldn’t rely on what stories say. It seems like the Beasts might be even more cruel than people think.

He lets out another rattling breath and helplessly watches more blood leave his body. Ah. It’s not just a head wound, he’s got a large wound on his chest too. Didn’t even notice that. his eyes flicker from the wound on his chest to the Beast beside him and he sees it look back. For some reason its golden gaze reminds him of someone. Something.

“-nin”

He hears something. Is his name being called? he hears something. The sound of larger than life footsteps approaching. 

The human lays limply as something lifts him up and for the second time this week he is cradled in a pair of hands larger than any human’s. Has it really been less than a week? He can’t move his head but his eyes flicker up at the thing that’s holding him. He sees a face, a pale face with sharp eyes, framed by thin strands of sleek red hair. The edges of his vision get darker and darker, but he’s still half aware of what he’s seeing. And what he’s seeing is this: A young woman, crying. The look of desperation is clear on her face.

This woman, she’s important. His mind starts to sink into the too-tempting embrace of unconsciousness but he knows, he’s knows there’s something important about this woman. 

Who?

Why is she crying?

“Munin please.”

He closes his eyes and lets the darkness take him.

…

..

.

Elvira is selfish.

She is so. Very. Selfish.

It looks contemplative for a second and Alec really really absolutely hates that the thought is even mentioned. That’s an option? Obviously that sounds terrible and even if it was sure that it wouldn’t kill him he wouldn’t want to try it in a million years. It’s already gigantic and terrifying and he’s seen just how sharp those teeth are.

He opens his mouth to come up with a reason for why it shouldn’t, then shuts it again. It accepted the life debt on a whim, he’s not about to start suggesting what it should do. What if it feels like he’s telling it what to do? What if it gets offended? Just please don’t let it decide to do that. Should he be praying? What if it can hear him praying? Oh Ly- nope no no please just please please don’t let it do that.

It shrugs as it comes to a decision. “Nah, I can always try it some other time.”

THANK LYDI- nope nope shut up brain. The God looks down at him, it heard that, didn't it? Alec feels bad for whatever poor soul is going to end up as the God’s test subject but at least it isn’t him.

“Try not to fall off.”

Try not to- oh no. Alec feels sick as the world shifts around him. The sky feels like it’s getting further away and it almost looks like those fingers are getting bigger, or is he getting smaller? A moment of disorientation is all he gets because the next thing he knows all he sees is darkness. 

It doesn’t take long before he’s dropped onto something solid with a scream.

“WHAT-” He immediately puts his hands over his mouth to stop his words and scrambles into a sitting position. Don’t scream what the fuck at the God, Alec, you have more self-preservation than that. But really, what the fuck? Because as he watches that hand retreat he’s pretty sure that while he was at least tall enough to fill up the space of the God’s entire hand before, he’s maybe even shorter than just its thumb now. Did- Did he get smaller? Or did it get bigger? He’s kind of scared to find out, both options sound horrifying. Actually never mind the former sounds way worse so he’s hoping it’s the latter.

It doesn’t seem like he’d get an answer even if he was brave enough to ask though, because its hand is already retreating and from what it looks like… From what it looks like, he’s standing on its head? On its hair. In its hair? He feels even more like a bug in comparison now than when he was staring up at the God. It’s.. It’s weird. Everything about this entire day has been insane and it’s been getting worse by the minute. At least he’s still alive, but seriously.

He looks up at the sky, at least that’s the same as always. What’s around him is something else entirely. Strands of hair bigger than anything he’s seen before surround him. Most of them are a dark shade of blue, darkened even more by the water, but they seem to be a proper shade of black at the roots. He’s never seen hair coloured like this either and it just adds to the unnatural parts that make up the whole of the God.

The ground (the head) shifts beneath him and Alec grabs onto some nearby strands on instinct. As soon as he realises just what he’s done he feels like he should let go, but fear causes his grip on them to tighten. It told him not to fall off. He has no intention of disobeying that particular order, or any order it wants to give him really. Who is he to argue with a God?

Holding onto the strands with a death grip he looks up and watches the clouds pass by, or rather, watches as they pass the clouds by? While the God doesn’t seem to be in a particular hurry they’re moving faster than any boat. Alec would know, he’s spent about half of his life on one.

So, what comes next?

…Home?

With the skies clouded as they are it’s hard to tell which direction they’re heading in. Are they heading for Cana or somewhere else entirely? How will the people respond, if the God decides to grace their shores? Badly, probably. As much as the Hunter is revered, no one actually wants to meet it. No one but the mad or suicidal.

For a few minutes all is quiet. There’s the lapping of waves, the song of the wind and the occasional sound of aquatic wildlife somewhere in the distance but not much else. While Alec remains tense, grasping onto the God’s hair as it moves, he almost begins to grow used to it. Which is of course when the God decides that it’s gotten bored of this position.

Claw-like fingers dripping with sea water rise from the ocean ahead and make their way to him, feeling around until a nail hits the human. Alec hisses in pain and scrambles back as it scratches his arm open and the salty water drips on the wound. Any scrambling is useless though, as he’s carefully pinched between a thumb and index finger. At least it isn’t using its nails to pick him up, but still, the wind is knocked out of him and he’s pretty sure his ribs are bruised. It definitely feels like they are, but on the bright side he didn’t hear anything break and if they were broken he’d notice right?

For a moment he’s lifted into the air and sees nothing but the grey-blue colours of the world around him while he hears the ocean swirl and splash somewhere beneath. 

“Right what’s the point of going through all of this effort if it’s just going to be this boring.”

He hears the God sigh and that’s the only warning he gets as he’s dropped down onto another surface. The fisherman sinks to his knees and tries to stabilise himself somewhat by putting his hands on the ground, or whatever passes for ground this time since it’s definitely skin again.

It takes a moment for him to gather his breath, to regain himself enough to look up at least. When he does the sight is about as horrifying and intimidating as any he’s seen so far. He’s sitting, half kneeling, on its chest. On the surface in front of him he sees those hundreds of golden slashes, the indents in its skin and he sees that they really are carved into it now. But more than that he sees that the slashes aren’t just carved into its skin, they’re carved into its scales too. Because the further he looks the more skin begins to give way for scales. They’re a dark shade of black, darker than any he’s seen before and interrupted by the occasional flash of gold. They look sleek and shiny, deceptively beautiful just like the God itself, if you ignore the overall feelings of Danger and Wrong. The tail sweeps through the ocean’s surface with a lazy grace, not as much concerned with moving as with staying comfortable. The tail alone goes on for longer than any of the town’s streets back home.

Alec looks behind him and sees the underside of a chin, he sees a neck with a pair of gills on its sides. He thought it before but he’s sure now. Either the God has gotten bigger or he just got smaller.

Please be the former, as terrifying as the idea of either option is.

“There, now we can talk.”

The fisherman feels the ground rumble beneath him as the God talks, he feels the vibration of every word. It’s so much bigger than him, so much bigger than anything. With his hands still on the surface beneath him he feels the sensation beneath his palms and it reminds him of why he prays. 

Talk. It wants to talk?

“What-” Alec coughs to clear his throat and shifts to sit on his knees while facing the God more properly. He tries to ignore the gash on his arm as well as he can. “What would you like to talk about?”

It lets out a low hum and a shiver runs through Alec’s spine as he feels the ground vibrate beneath him once again. Holy. Holy. This is something holy. 

“Sing me a song.” He can’t see its smile but he can hear it in its voice. “That’s what you sailors are good at, isn’t it?”

Alec swallows and tries to find the right words. “I- Okay. I’m not- not as good as a lot of others though.” He tries to ignore the wound on his arm. Tries to ignore the sea water that feels like it’s biting at his skin.

Instead, he sings. The start is a bit awkward, a lot awkward, as he tries to find his voice. Speaking up is already intimidating enough, let alone singing. But at least with singing it’s easier to get into that flow once you find it. There’s a rhythm to get lost in, a story to tell. This particular song is about a pair of lovers who are about to get married. It’s not a song that’s very popular amongst sailors but it’s one he knows by heart, so it’s the song his mind immediately jumps to when the God tells him to sing. It’s the song his mother taught him, the one she likes to sing by the hearth, while cooking, or folding laundry or when sending him and his siblings off to bed. It was her favourite. Alec used to think it was too sad but he grew to appreciate it with time.

So while those first few words come out haltingly, with a stutter caused by fear, he finds this flow eventually. Some songs were made with that specific purpose in mind: to forget your worries and to get lost in the music for just a moment. 

So Alec lets himself get lost, for just a moment.

The moment passes a bit quicker than planned as the God shifts just slightly enough for Alec to be affected and for his wound to flare up. The next note he tries to hit stutters and fades into a hiss instead.

He didn’t mean to do that, he definitely did not mean to let himself get distracted or interrupted like that. He tries to pick up where he left off but when he does-

-skin splits and parts and a gigantic golden eye opens up right next to him.

He screams and scrambles back, away from the thing as it stares at him. That’s an eye. That’s an eye right there, an eye right there on its chest? It just appeared, how did that appear? It’s looking at him-

“Are you really getting that upset over an eye?” The God laughs at him. The skin closes and the eye disappears from his right, then reappears on his left.

“It’s- I’m sorry it’s just-”

“Right, I don’t care.” Alec shuts up as soon as the God interrupts him. At least it doesn’t sound too insulted, more amused if anything. 

“When were you planning on telling me you were hurt?” A clawed hand emerges from the water and is raised towards him. Alec flinches back and closes his eyes, waiting for what’s sure to be a painful ending for him. Instead, the blunt surface of a sharp nail taps against him. The whining hiss Alec makes in response is entirely instinctual, he wishes he could just stay quiet instead but the sea water that reaches the wound burns.

“Seriously, treat that. Take your shirt off and wrap the wound or something. That’s what you’re supposed to do right? I wouldn’t know, I just heal by myself and it’s been a while.”

A while since what? It doesn’t matter. The God is giving him the opportunity to take care of himself and he’ll take it, especially if that’s what it wants from him. The fisherman is hesitant to take off his whole shirt but stripping just a part of it off is a hopeless case. Maybe if.. He glances at the nail but no, he’s not that stupid. Instead he takes off his whole shirt and just holds it against his arm. He’s no medic but stopping the bleeding is probably the most important part, and salt is good so maybe that’s good for the wound actually? Hopefully?

“There we go.” The eye on his left disappears, within a second it’s like it was never there but Alec knows. He knows what just happened. The clawed hand retreats just the same. “That was good, by the way.”

Terrifying as the situation is, Alec can’t help but be just a bit pleased. He doesn’t sing often, not without joining the chorus of a dozen others at least, so he doesn’t get a lot of compliments on his singing. Getting complimented by a God is.. something. Would thanking it come off as vain? Not thanking it might come off as being ungrateful. If it comes down between two options that might both be bad he’ll take the more polite one. His mother did try to teach her children manners.

“Thank you.”

There’s another low hum and Alec starts to get the feeling that the God is really surprisingly.. How does he put it. Uncaring? Easy-going? It’s not necessarily a good thing considering the casual remarks it’s made about killing him in the past.

“Sing me another song. You make a better songbird than you do a fish,” it laughs. It’s cruel. Its uncaring nature is cruel in a way that isn’t specifically on purpose. He understands now why there’s always an equal chance of the Hunter letting ships go as there is of it sinking them. It doesn’t care, it just acts on a whim and the odds of that whim ending in your favour are about 50/50. All people can do is pray and negotiate to bend that uncaring attitude in their favour just a little bit.

Alec feels like his understanding of the God is growing, just a bit. It’s surprisingly childish and all the more terrifying for it.

He sings another song. 

It’s not his mother’s favourite song, in fact it’s not a song he’s ever heard his mother sing at all. He remembers hearing it at the local tavern for the first time, when Quinn went to wash the dishes. The evening was quiet that day, most people had gone home early but Alec stayed behind alongside just a few others. He could hear her singing from his spot at the bar and he remembers the words well.

For a few more minutes things are as calm as they can be. He can hear the God’s tail slowly swishing behind him, then come to a halt. He continues singing regardless until the point that the song comes to an end.

“You really do have a nice voice,” it says. “Why not give up on being a fisherman and become a musician instead?”

Alec can’t help the brief burst of laughter that escaped him before he shuts his mouth with wide eyes. Was that rude? It seems rude. He looks in the general direction of its head but he can’t see its face. Still, if he actually offended it he doesn’t doubt he’d be torn apart or worse by now. The God doesn’t seem the type to let a real offense go easily.

“I’m a fisherman,” he responds, like that’s all the answer you need. My brothers are fishermen, my father was a fisherman, so was his father and however many before him. It’s a family tradition. Besides.” He thinks back to his home town. “It’s a small town, there aren’t that many options in terms of work. Everyone has to carry their weight to keep things going and fishermen are needed a lot more than musicians.”

He feels another hum beneath him. “Shame.” There’s a brief pause and he can feel the grin in its next words. “Well I don’t mind settling for private concerts.”

The ground shifts and tilts beneath him and Alec instinctively tries to hold on, whatever way he can. But there’s nothing for him to hold on to and so he starts to tumble down towards the water. Before he can hit the surface something catches him, the God’s hand. He looks up and sees not just the sky but its face grinning down at him, sharp teeth bared for him to see. It might not be meant to come off as a threat but it definitely feels like one. As those glowing eyes of molten gold stare down at him he feels as tiny and insignificant as he definitely is, especially when compared to something like the Hunter.

“I’ll be back for more, songbird. Don’t forget. You owe me your life.”

Alec shakes his head. “I won’t.” He couldn’t even if he wanted to. He could never forget anything that just happened. He’s sure he’ll have nightmares about it for the rest of that same life that he owes the God.

Its lips curl into a smug smile. “Good.” Then the hand closes around him and all he sees is darkness. “Get home safe.” There’s a slight musical undertone as it half sings those last words, then Alec is lurched and pushed to the side of the hand as something moves. The God, presumably.

For a few moments there’s just the darkness around him, the soft walls of flesh that keep him caged here. Through what little light comes in he can see the general shapes of the fingers that curl around him and he feels so small. He wonders what it must feel like to just be able to hold a life in your hands like this.

He thinks back to the fish that he’s held before, that he’s lifted up after they were caught and thrown into barrels. He feels sick.

The fingers uncurl around him and the moment passes as the fisherman is dropped onto yet another surface, but this one is nothing like the surfaces it’s dropped him onto before. This is a surface made of stone, there are rough rocks beneath his hands and his feet and he scrambles to stand as he notices this. Wildly he looks around him and sees the grey of Cana’s cliffs, the grey of sharp stones that are scattered around him and the gravel of a path in the distance. He sees the grey rooftops of the houses that make up the town beneath. Grey might be his new favourite colour, he never realised just how much he missed it. How much he loves it like he loves his home.

Alec blinks the tears out of his eyes and looks back at where the God was, but finds nothing. Nothing except a large black tail sinking beneath the water’s surface and the sound of the water’s shifting as it does so. It’s gone.

He knows it’ll be back, for him. 

The fisherman- can he really go back to being a fisherman after something like this- looks back down at the town located lower on the cliffs. Already he can see people move and run in the streets. It might have dropped him off higher up here, but it was definitely seen.

And how the hell is he going to explain that to the townsfolk. It’s a miracle, what happened was a miracle and so he’ll explain it as a miracle.

Nothing is ever going to be the same again, is it?

He groans and raises the collar of his jacket, curling against the castle walls some more while he waits for the princess to finish whatever business he has inside. There’s another flare of icy wind and sure, he’s resistant to the cold, but having the wind claw at what little of his skin is exposed isn’t exactly a pleasant sensation. And while he’s waiting out here the princess is doing whatever princesses do in their castle walls. Talking, making nice with nobles and eating fancy food or something. Meanwhile Athene is expected to just wait outside until his master gets back and tells him to take them back to his dumb mage tower. Sit. Heel. Play nice and don’t talk when other people are around. The Hound feels like a fitting title with how much those mage-kings seem to like treating him like he’s their fucking dog.

He digs his heel into the snow and glares down at the ground like it’s personally offended him, because someone sure has.

Better a dog than a pest. Than a damn parasite because that’s what he is, what they all are. leeching off of his life and his work and depending on him to keep them alive because let’s be real, without him they all would’ve died long ago.

“Hi!”

The voice is unexpected. The only people he’s seen around here so  far and the guards and other than kneel and grovel at both him and the princess, none of them have actually talked at him. Besides, this voice sounds much too young to be one of the guards. He looks down and around but can’t quite see where it’s coming from.

“Up here! I mean, my apologies. I don’t mean to disturb you, are you busy?”

Does he look busy? He looks up at the castle and spots a small balcony just a bit up and to his left. And right there, on the edge of the balcony clinging to the railing as she looks down with a smile, is a young teenage girl with absolutely windswept golden blonde hair wearing a pretty blue dress that looks much too cold for weather like this. Clearly she agrees because she’s definitely shivering. Why she’d step outside dressed like that is a mystery to him. 

“Greetings.” She lets go of the railing long enough to do a cute little curtsy, her hands gripping her dress tightly as she bows her head and raises it again. “I am Odette Carine Laurent-Gauthier, princess to Athene’s kingdom and younger sister to His Majesty mage-king Faustin Alexis Laurent-Gauthier, it’s nice to officially meet you. But I’ve heard so much about you! You already know my brother, and you knew-” Her smile falters for a second but she recovers quickly enough. “You knew my dear father and oldest brother as well, may their souls rest in peace. But we still haven’t been introduced yet! It’s an honour to meet you, our most Divine.” She does another curtsy, just to be safe. And what is he supposed to do with that?

Usually he’d love to tell people to just fuck off. But sadly, the bastard is very aware of how he feels about people and has ordered him to be polite to people, if he speaks at all. Which is annoying as fuck. Plus..

Well, she’s a kid. An annoying human kid, and tragically related to the most annoying guy (alive) that he knows, but still a kid. He can’t tell a child to fuck off or just glare at her till she goes away! He has like, some decency. Human as she is. So instead he just gives a simple nod and waits for her to leave. If anything her smile only brightens.

“Hi! Oh sorry I’ve already said that, but ehm, it really is nice to meet you. Ah my apologies I hope I’m not disturbing you but I saw you from my window and like I said we haven’t met yet. And you seemed lonely out there! Wait no, not lonely ehm, uncomfortable? Ah sorry no! Sorry I feel like I’m being very presumptuous, I just thought maybe you would appreciate the company. if my company is unwanted please do inform me I would hate to disturb.”

Her hands move and flutter as she talks and the redness on her face seems to be from more than just the cold. At the next sharp gust of wind and her hands immediately grasp at the railing however. Her hair is definitely a lost cause at this point.

And right, he’s supposed to respond. “It’s fine.” He looks at her for a second, she’s definitely shivering from the cold. “You probably shouldn’t be out in this weather though.”

She giggles at that, it’s a bright sound.  “No it’s quite alright. I’m not that cold!”

She’s definitely lying but he won’t call her out on it.

“Ah, my bad. You’re clearly the tough kind of princess,” he grins. Hm he can’t call both her and her brother princess. “Your Highness.” In the few seconds that he’s talked with this kid she’s earned more of his respect than her brother in the past year. 

She smiles back at him and nods energetically.

“Yes, very! Are you waiting for my brother? He’s in a meeting at the moment and those can take quite a while. Have you been waiting long? I only just got back to my room and I came outside as soon as I saw you.”

He shrugs at that. “Not that long. You’re not going to the meeting with him then?”

The girl shakes her head at that. “No, I’m usually left out of the political side of things, with the rare exception. My brother is the mage-king so it is him that they need for those kinds of things. I’m just the princess so I’m not as involved.” She sounds conflicted about it. A bit disappointed, maybe?

“It’s probably for the best,” Athene reassures her. “Politics sound boring, they’re probably just talking about a bunch of boring  adult stuff. Like taxes, and paperwork.”

Her face scrunches up. “Oh I do hate paperwork.” For a second she blinks and then she gets a panicked expression. “Oh I mean, I simply meant, it’s not my strong suit. Ehm.”

Athene laughs at that. “Don’t worry I won’t tell.”

She smiles back at him and leans over the railing a little bit just to get a better view. “Much appreciated, though it’s not very princess-like to complain is it?”

“You should tell that to your brother, he complains all the time,” Athene responds with a sharp grin. The girl’s eyes brighten.

“Oh does he?”

“Oh yes, all the time. About the weather, about the Beasts and about how long I take to respond, or about the food that he brought with him. All the time.”

Odette giggles at that. “Well he can be very-” Her sentence is interrupted by a scream as an unexpectedly strong gale loosens her grip on the railing and throws her down. As high up as she is she’d never survive, especially since it threw her down head-first. This is why it’s a terrible idea to go out onto the balcony with this type of weather, this is why you shouldn’t stand that close to the edge or lean over to get a closer look at whatever is down there.

Luckily for her Athene is a New God, a warrior God, which means that he has the reflexes to match. As soon as she tumbles down his right hand snaps up and catches her before she gets too far.

“Gotcha!”

She didn’t get hurt right? His heart races as he brings his hand closer to his chest, turning himself to shield it from the worst of the winds. She might be human and she might be the princess’ sister and she might be a royal but she’s a kid, just a kid. He’s not just gonna let a kid die when he can help even without these fucking chains he wouldn’t. He got to her in time right?

He raises his gauntleted left hand as a barrier and slowly unfurls his fingers, looking down at the girl in the palm of his gloved hand with a concerned look.

“You alright there? Did you break anything?”

The tiny princess scrambles to right herself in his hand. Her breathing is hard and uneven, the girl just had a near death experience so obviously she wouldn’t be doing well.

“Are you okay? You’re not-” She stares up at him and he sees her bite down on her lip as tears begin to form in her eyes. “Ohhh nonono don’t cry it’s okay you’re okay.”

“I’m not crying!”

She is so very close to crying.

“You’re okay I’ve got you.” He gives her a slight nudge with his tumb and she immediately wraps her arms around it.

“I’m not crying, a princess doesn’t just cry at the smallest inconvenience! And I’m alright aren’t I? Thank the Hou- Thank you. Thank you.”

Ah fuck what is he supposed to do here? He reaches out to pat her back with the tip of his gauntlet, then remembers just how sharp those tips are and grimaces. It’s a piece of armour meant for ripping, scratching and tearing. It isn’t meant for comforting little girls. That’s not what the New Gods were meant for now is it?

“You’re okay.”

Instead, he shifts his hand even closer to his chest. Is this comforting? Is he being comforting right now? It’s been- It’s been far too long since he’s done anything like this. He can’t remember the last time, actually.

“You’re all safe and good. We’re good.” He speaks with a soft voice, softer than he can remember ever speaking. The last time, it would have to be before wouldn’t it? before all of this. Before this kingdom and mages and Gods and Beasts. It feels like a lifetime ago, because it was. He.. He had a little brother, didn’t he? Before Athene. Back when he was Mateo. It’s been decades since then. 

He gently lowers his head and lets his lips brush the top of her head. Wait no, bad idea. His head snaps back up again. What was he thinking that’s a terrible idea. It doesn’t seem like the girl minded though, if she noticed at all. Great let’s forget that happened.

She sniffles and straightens herself out. “We’re lucky to have you as our guardian, you’re a really really good one.”

He  tries not to grimace at that. Yeah, sure. Lucky to have him.

The girl ever so slowly lets go of his finger, trusting him to keep her safely secure in his hand. It’s a lot of trust. Really, the people of this kingdom trust  him far too much. They’re not completely wrong to, considering the leash he’s on, but it’s not like they know about that. If a certain someone were to decide that he, or the  kingdom, would be better off without some of the people in this kingdom though..

/red on white snow/bones crunching under fingers/blood seeping through his gauntlet/screams muffled by a storm/a greataxe carving a mountain in two/no escape/no target left unmarked/kill them kill them killthemkillthemkillthemchainstightenaroundhisheart/

Let’s not think about that right now.

“This is really very un princess-like, I must apologise. This is really not how I pictured this first meeting to go.”

He gives a small smile though he can’t quite keep the grimace out of his lips. He hopes she doesn’t notice.

“It’s okay. All’s well that ends well right?” He looks up at the balcony. “But you really should go back inside.”

Odette nods though she doesn’t look too enthusiastic. “Yes, I understand. Again  my apologies for the trouble, and thank you for the rescue.’

Athene stands  up to his full height and lowers his hand enough to set her back down on her balcony. She steps onto the balcony with a dainty sort of grace and turns around to  curtsy at him one more time.

“It really was an honour, and a pleasure, to meet you. Circumstances being what they may. Will I-” She hesitates. “Will you be back sometime, perhaps?”

She looks up at him with a hopeful gaze and really, how is he supposed to say no to that. It would be like kicking a puppy. Does he look like a puppy-kicker? Don’t answer that.

“Don’t know.” He was right, that’s a kicked puppy look right there. “It’ll depend on your brother.” And just as quick the hope is back in her eyes and a bright smile returns  to her face.

“Alright! That’s good, then. Thank you again, and I hope your wait doesn’t take too long. Perhaps next time we can arrange more comfortable accommodations!”

“Sure. Until next time, Your Highness.” 

He doubts it. She gives another curtsy and he awkwardly raises his hand in return, then she spins around and rushes inside.

Well, that’s definitely not how he expected the evening to go. He swears that girl got him closer to having a heart attack than any Beast has gotten to killing him so far! And that’s saying something considering the scars on his face and his missing left arm.

Ugh and meanwhile the princess is probably having the time of his life inside, with his rich friends and his warm food. The bitch.

---

Faustin is having a terrible time.

“Your Majesty the Fortiers have requested another meeting, they insist that you meet with them to discuss the matters related to your late brother Valentin’s arrangements now that the period of mourning is officially reaching its end.”

“Oh they insist, do they?”

The assistant’s lips tighten into a grimace. “Well yes, and the Dennels have sent word as well. The letter says they wish to discuss some matters related to Queen Dowager Yvette Laurent-Dennel.”

Of course the second that the year-long mourning period has ended both of those noble families waste absolutely no time in descending like vultures. He’s sure he can guess what both of those families want to negotiate. Marriage. Now that both of his older brothers have passed the Dennels have little use for their now Dowager Queen, and the Fortiers see a possibility to upgrade from wedding their daughter off to a prince to wedding her off to a mage-king. And they’re not the only ones. His desk is filled with letters that seem mostly harmless enough at a first glance but whose intentions he can read clearly. 

Marriage. Ugh. The best thing about being the third son of the kingdom was that he wasn’t supposed to have these problems. His father had an heir and a spare and he was never supposed to be the one who would take this crown. Who would take this burden. But here he is. Fatherless, brotherless, and most importantly heirless.

The kingdom needs an heir, he knows that much. And not just for political reasons, for safety reasons too. The details of the connection between the mage-king and their God isn’t known to outsiders, but it is essential that there is always a mage-king to keep those chains tight and secure. The kingdom is lucky that those assassins messed up their attempt to kill him because if all mage-king candidates had been wiped out the kingdom would have been in ruins right now.

So. He has to marry, he has to produce an heir that can inherit the title of mage-king after he dies and he has to do it soon. Multiple heirs ideally. Logically he knows this, he does.

But the entire political landscape of Athene’s kingdom is an absolute mess right now and choosing which lady to marry is no simple task. If he picks the Dennels it will be seen as a weak and possibly less than moral choice, since they’ll surely throw the Queen Dowager herself at him. The Dennels used to be a safe choice but it has been hinted that one of the assassins may have had ties to them and that’s not a risk he wants to take. The Girards are a solid option but he can’t do that without pissing off the Leclairs and this whole ordeal is giving him a headache. He wasn’t supposed to be a mage-king or even a politician, he was supposed to be a scholar!

“Please arrange a meeting with the Fortiers and delay any meeting with the Dennels while subtly mentioning that I’ll be discussing some matters with the Queen Dowager in person in the meantime. Hold off on responding to any other letters, I’ll look at them myself later tomorrow. For now I have other business to attend to. You are dismissed.”

What a headache. What an absolute pain he hates these politics. The assistant bows and leaves to take care of business as instructed. As soon as he’s gone Faustin sags in his chair and massages his temples. And of course on  top of all of these political games there is the issue with the Beasts. If they’re getting smarter, if they’re somehow evolving, that’s even worse news than any of the letters he’s received today. By far. 

At  the same time in order for the Beasts to be handled at all he has to maintain his leash on their patron God and for that he has to be sure that the position of mage-king is maintained. 

He could tell Odette. The first mage-king’s blood runs through her veins as much  as it runs through his.

He grimaces and pushes away the thought. He’s not that desperate yet, not yet. She’s the last person he’d ever want to burden. And yes, if he wanted to it would be easier to marry her off, politically speaking. But. He doesn’t want that for her either.

He sighs again and gets up from his chair. The hour might be late but his work is far from over. 

Making his way outside he looks up at the God who, if you ignore the fact that he’s an absolute mountain-sized being of muscle and armour, is quite the pitiful sight with the weather as it is.

He can’t afford any pity for it and he doubts it would want it from him in the first place.

“Hound, lift me up. Gently.”

The God gives him an annoyed glare but does as commanded, as always. His ancestor’s chains ensure it. 

“Take us back to the mage tower.”

And so it does, probably mentally cussing him out all the while. That’s fine. The mage-king has bigger problems.

Eventually his mind begins to wander, drifting back not to the God but to the plants that it brought him that first night. The fruits, the flowering trees that he didn’t recognise. Information on plants beyond the borders of the kingdom is extremely limited, for a good reason. Not many people are foolish enough to risk their lives outside those borders and the few who do either don’t return or have better things to concern themselves with than the plants they find out there. Still. Munin wants to know, he wants to know what else is out there. How many of the fruits that he didn’t recognise are edible? How many are poisonous, or toxic? How many might have some medicinal use and in what ways? Just how much is the kingdom missing out on because they don’t know any of these plans?

Dozens of questions drift through his mind and as they do, he begins to sketch out a bit of what he remembers. The strange large red fruit with a crown at its top, the small orange fruit with four strange greyish-green leaves at the bottom. He wishes he could draw them from a reference instead of from his memory. He wishes he had some colour to work with but he’ll have to settle for drawing them with his charcoal. 

Caught up in his drawings as he is, he still notices the second that Elvira approaches. Its footsteps are quiet, considering its size, but Munin was trained to hear the quiet footsteps of humans. The God probably isn’t even actively trying to hide its presence anyways. 

It doesn’t announce its presence, it simply puts more food on the table and sits down next to it. He looks up and gives a smile.

“Good evening.”

It glances at him and gives a nod back, then looks back at the lake again. Taking that as his cue, Munin gets up and gets his dinner. For a moment the two exist in silence while Munin eats his dinner. Like last time, he’s the first to break it.

“How was your day, I hope it was alright?” He looks up at the God, giving it whatever time it needs to answer. His answer comes in the form of a brief nod and a single word.

“Yes.”

Munin smiles and gives a small hum. That’s good to hear, I’ve mostly been doing some drawing. I think I’ve drawn pretty much all the plants on the table at this point, as well as some of the plants that I didn’t recognise before. Well, I tried to draw those. Without a reference I’ve mostly been working from memory but my memory is reliable enough I like to think.”

At that Elvira looks back at him and leans a little closer. Ah, its eyes are on the pile of papers  next to him. He takes some of the drawings out of the pile to show them to the God.

“Here, I drew these two. I’m not sure what they’re called but I think I got the shape right at least?”

Elvira looks at the drawings for a moment, its hands on its lap as it shifts it weight towards the table to lean over and get a closer look. Munin’s breath stutters for just a moment but he regains himself quickly enough. Instead of showing much of a reaction he just displays the drawings, holding them up so it can see them better. He has to be careful not to smudge the charcoal.

“Pomegranate,” the God speaks, its voice as calm as always. Its eyes are on the drawing in his left hand before moving to the drawing in his right hand. “I don’t know what you would call the other.”

It leans back again and Munin sets the papers down. Pomegranate huh? He doesn’t recognise the name but writes it in the corner of the paper.

“Are they edible to you? I mean.” Obviously they’re probably edible to the God, he doubts poison could ever affect it. “Have you ever eaten them?”

As always there is a brief silence before it responds. 

“I have.” Its eyes go distant for a moment, then it looks back at him. “You could probably eat it too.”

“Oh?” He looks a bit curious at that. He hasn’t even heard of pomegranate before, but he could probably eat it? Maybe people used to it eat in the past but never actually grew them because the trees were too large to tend to. Or maybe it’s just something that the God knows.

“It’s probably better to be safe though.”

Munin’s shoulders sag a bit at that. Right, probably better to be safe than sorry. Even if people used to eat it in the past there’s no guarantee he could eat it now. Still, it’s a shame. He kind of wants to try it anyways.

Elvira gets up and leaves the room. Since it didn’t tell him to wait, or that it would be back, it probably won’t stay gone for long. That seems to be the pattern so far at least.

And he’s right, because it returns within minutes. It’s holding something in each hand and while he can’t quite see what it’s carrying on its other side, he recognises the fruit in its left hand. His eyes brighten.

“Oh, the pomegranate.”

It got him a pomegranate? Why? What for? Elvira sets it down on the table and leaves whatever else it was carrying on the floor. Then it takes out a knife that was sheathed at its side.

Munin can’t help but pale and take a few steps back as the God’s empty hand comes closer. As he does the hand pauses, coming to a halt over the table. For a second there’s a tense silence.

“I’m going to slice the fruit.”

Munin looks up at the God. Ah. Right okay that makes sense. Damn it his mind keeps going to the worst places, and while he has a good reason for that it’s getting very annoying to keep expecting the worst only for him to feel like he’s panicking for no reason. He has every reason to panic, he just keeps being proven wrong.

The hand closes around the pomegranate and lifts it up, then the God brings the knife to the fruit in its hand and slices it in two with a practiced ease. Whether it’s practiced in slicing this particular fruit or slicing in general is hard to say. Maybe it’s both. Red drops of juice drip down the hand holding the fruit and Munin tries very hard not to think about how they resemble drops of blood. That’s not a place he needs his mind to go right now, he really doesn’t want to think about how easy it would be for the God to do the same thing to a human with similar results. Andddd now he’s picturing it. Great. Nope, no time for that now.

The God sets the fruit down on the table and Munin can’t help but stare at the fruit in front of him. It’s as big as he remembers but the insides are definitely not what he expected. Inside of the fruit are dozens of smaller red gem-like seeds. It’s, honestly, very pretty. And a little bit disturbing for a reason he can’t quite pinpoint. Maybe it’s the colour and the scene he just saw, the scene he just pictured in his mind.

“It’s pretty,” he says, for a lack of anything better to say. “Would you like me to draw it?” He looks up at the God with questioning eyes.

“If you like.”

It sits down again and picks something up from the ground, some kind of round hoop for embroidery with a white fabric stretched across it. Right, it did mention that it liked embroidery. Actually seeing it feels about as weird as hearing it. He turns back to the papers in front of him and picks an empty one out from the pile. With the paper in one hand and a piece of charcoal in the other he looks at the pomegranate in front of him, studying its appearance. He has a few seconds of peace before a large hand comes into view again and like last time he can’t help but flinch back. There’s only so much he can do about his instincts when he doesn’t expect these things. Like last time too, the hand pauses for a moment.

“I’m going to pick you up.”

Right. Right okay he doesn’t know why, but why not?

“Y-yeah.” He gives a small laugh and looks up at the God as it looks down at him. “Okay.”

It isn’t exactly asking for permission but is it weird of him to think that this might be as close as it gets to something like it? 

The hand continues its journey and large fingers slowly wrap around him with an unexpected gentleness. At this point it shouldn’t be unexpected anymore though, it’s happened enough times before. For all that the God is terrifying it’s been nothing but gentle any time it picked him up. Even that first time, now that he thinks back to it. Even when he was on that altar it snapped the bindings keeping him there with great ease but still didn’t hurt him at all when it lifted him up.

The hand slowly raises him up and those fingers stay gently but tightly wrapped around him to keep him safe from falling as he’s lifted higher and higher. He looks on with wide eyes as he gets closer to the God’s face, but is eventually shifted to its left as it sets him down on its shoulder. Instinctively the hand holding the charcoal grabs onto a loose strand of hair even as the hand keeps him in place. He probably shouldn’t do that, he definitely shouldn’t do that. Grabbing onto a God’s hair? It feels insanely disrespectful but he really really doesn’t want to fall. 

Its fingers slowly uncurl around him and Munin evens out his breathing. Okay, he’s on the God’s shoulder, or well between its shoulder and its neck? He’s- He’s trying not to think about it too much. Clearly it wants him here so his main concern right now is not falling. He can do that. Honestly with the way it set him down and the way its back is against the wall his chances of falling are pretty low. He shifts his sitting position a little bit so that he’s more stable. It just. It set him down here, and it wants him to stay here because that hand is already retreating. Why. Why?

He hears a slight stutter of breath and if not for the shift he feels in the air, he’d think it was his own.

It doesn’t matter right now, he can think about it later. Maybe. 

He shifts again, trying to find a more comfortable sitting position. Should he stop doing that? He glances at the God who is- oh Vyrin wait fuck no oh it’s so close. His heartbeat rockets up as he looks at the God. He’s sitting on its shoulder, he’s literally right next to its neck. Like in a daze he lets go for the strand of hair and lifts his hand to rest against its neck. Under the palm of his hand he feels a vein. He feels a fast but steady heartbeat thumping away underneath warm skin. It feels. It feels weird. It feels alien, and wrong. And kind of nice? And horrifying.

It’s kind of strange to realise that the God has a heartbeat. On one hand, why wouldn’t it? But on the other hand, it seems.. mundane? No, that’s not the right word. Everything about the God is anything but mundane. It feels real? Physical? Too much so. That is actual skin that he’s touching. That is a heartbeat racing beneath the surface. It feels real. Present. far too present.

Part of him, the part that learned to fight and kill, can’t help but wonder. If he were to raise a blade and cut into that vein, would the God feel it at all? Would it do anything? Probably not. he doubts it would do anything whatsoever and he could never be stupid enough to try. Not to mention the thought alone feels dangerous so he pushes it down and ignores it, acting like it never popped up in the first place.

Still, it feels human while at the same time feeling more inhuman than anything else he’s seen of it until now. It feels inhuman because things like heartbeats should be normal, should feel normal, but this is as far from normal as it gets.

He looks down and sees that the God is moving again. It picks up a needle with a red thread laced through it and rests the embroidery circle against its knees. Looks like it really is just going to embroider something. It just so happens that it wanted him here for that. For some reason. Right.

Well. It does seem like it brought him that pomegranate for him to draw. It even cut it in half so he could see the insides. It’s strange, but sure. Sure. 

He lifts the piece of paper and rests it against his thigh. It’s a pretty awkward drawing position but he can make it work. And he does, as he begins to sketch out the pomegranate.

It’s really weird, seeing it from this height. In a way it helps him see the whole picture though. The distance lets him see the entirety of the fruit more easily, which is helpful if he wants to draw the fruit as a whole instead of focusing on the details of it.

He wonders how it tastes.

As he sketches he looks down at the embroidery in progress. He already knew its hands are capable of being gentle but he still finds himself surprised by how careful and precise Elvira is as it weaves the needle through the cloth. Its movements aren’t quick but they’re clearly practiced. Consistent. It’s done this a lot, hasn’t it?

He wonders about it. How come the God, Elvira, is so good at embroidery? Why is it good at embroidery, why does it care about it at all? None of the kingdom’s legends say anything about something like that, as far as he knows. Most  of the legends about Vyrin involve it fighting Beasts or playing games with humans.

Munin tries to recall some of the stories that were told about Vyrin, scouring his mind for anything like this. Really he was never the best student when it comes to religion.

…

No it’s really just a lot of tales of death and muder and cruelty mixed with reverence about how it defends their kingdom from Beasts. He vaguely remembers one story, about one of Vyrin’s interactions with humans. The story is about a game that it liked to play. It’s a story that some parents like to use to scare their children. It’s a game that children like to play as ‘practice’ for a ‘just in case’, in the way that children so often turn terrible events into games.

He remembers vague warnings about how Vyrin likes to play with humans when it decides to take them, or when they’re sacrificed to it. Stories of how groups of humans would be let loose in the great wilds, so that they could run and hide from the God. Like a cruel game of hide and seek, only the last person that was found and caught would be allowed to return home alive. Though no one would ever return fully whole and well.

Munin pauses his sketching as he looks at the embroidery that the God, who insists on being called Elvira, is working on. Small red stitches are beginning to form a pattern, they look like the seeds of the pomegranate. They look so small and delicate compared to the God that is bringing them to life.

It’s being so careful. So precise. So gentle. It isn’t destroying anything, it’s making something.

No, something doesn’t seem right, he thinks. This God has been terrifying but it hasn’t harmed him at all, it’s been so careful not to. It’s listened to him and brought him gifts. Is this really the Vyrin that he was told about?

They say that the Gods change as their faces do. So while one face was cruel, the next might be kind. That kind of makes sense but isn’t this too much? Isn’t this too big of a change, if those stories really are true?

He could ask it, but as nice as it’s been to him so far it doesn’t feel like a good idea. If it’s a touchy subject he really doesn’t want to set it off. Elvira hasn’t been cruel so far. Mostly. it’s been- of course it hasn’t brought him home. But it hasn’t been cruel in keeping him. It hasn’t been angry yet, and he doesn’t want to know what it’s like when it’s angry. Divine wrath is one thing he could  live without ever seeing.

He brushes his hand against its neck and feels the pulse thumping underneath its skin. the second that he does it quickens again and he isn’t sure what to make of that. At the same time the hands working on that embroidery pause for a moment, before they pick up their work again. He can’t see Elvira’s face from this position but he doubts it would help him if he could. Its face has been impossible to read so far so it isn’t likely for that to change anytime soon.

He retracts his hand and continues sketching the pomegranate. If nothing else he’s glad for the opportunity to draw a plant he’s never seen before. He wonders if Elvira would bring him more plants if he asks and, somehow, he’s starting to suspect the answer to that might be yes.

While one face is cruel, the next might be kind. He’s here as a sacrifice, yes. He can’t go home, sure. But overall it’s a big improvement from the stories of Vyrin that he was raised with. Could it be that things are finally turning around for the kingdom? He doesn’t care much about the kingdom as a whole, but what’s good for the kingdom might just be good for him. Maybe, just maybe, this face is new enough that it’s still trying to figure out what it wants. What it is. Is that a possibility?

And if that’s the case, could he maybe have a hand in shaping that?

It’s an insane thought. Not just heretical but arrogant as well. But the God has shown some kind of care towards him, it has put at least some value on his words. 

It’s crazy. Absolutely insane. He might be fully wrong, but what if he’s right? What if this is a moment where its identity is more.. malleable?

Well, he’s here already. There isn’t much to do here other than observe, talk, and now draw. Maybe it’s time to find out some more about what, no, about who exactly this God is.

Elvira.

Not Vyrin.

---

Athene’s kingdom exists in a constant state of winter. Most days you’ll see the snow fall from the sky and even on those days that clouds part and the sun shines, the temperature never drops enough for the ice to melt. At this point it’s for the best, as humans have built their kingdoms not only into the snowy mountains but also within gigantic icy glaciers that are common to this country. It’s a fail safe. Though the walls of glaciers and mountains won’t be enough to truly keep out Beasts if they’re set on killing the humans inside it might buy them enough time to evacuate or wait for their God to get there. There aren’t many that can recall the last time they were needed though, since it’s been decades since the Hound let any Beast get that close.

Athene The Hound is a deeply beloved God. It has guarded their lands for over a thousand years and its loyalty has been rewarded with an abundance of devout prayers, offerings and festivals. Its dutiful nature and sense of honour are praised and admired as it is seen as a shining example of these virtues and children are raised knowing that they are safe because of their God. 

Not that their God gives a damn about what they think. 

Honour? Duty? Gratitude? What a fucking joke. He hates this fucking country, or at least part of him does. The same part within him that rages and screams and wishes he could just run away and never look back and find her and take her into his arms and take her with him as they leave everything behind but-

A golden chain tightens around his heart

-he stumbles another step forward, his body moving against his will. Fucking hell.

“Calm the fuck down I’m almost there,” he grumbles, his words immediately lost to the wind.

Leaving isn’t an option. It never was.

The God takes another step forward, trying to ignore the large gash in his side. The good news is that it’s mostly stopped bleeding. One of the benefits to being a God is that you get one hell of a healing boost. The bad news is that the Beast tore through his clothing to cause that wound so now the icy winds are ruthlessly biting into his still-closing wound. It would close a lot faster if it wasn’t so it would be great if he could just sit down and take a bit of a second to breathe, a bit of a second to actually take care of it. But it seems like someone is getting impatient for their weekly meeting.

The fucker.

But hey, why would that guy care what happens to him? Worst case scenario if he dies another poor soul will be summoned to take his place so that they can continue the job and the cycle can continue all over again. Be summoned. Fight. Die. Be summoned. Fight. Die. Be summoned. Fight. Die. How many times has it happened now? He doesn’t know, but too many times for sure. Not that anyone gives a fuck.

A few moments later he reaches the mountain and the human-sized tower built into its side comes into view. He’d like to say that at least the worst is over but considering who he’s about to meet up with, he’d take a Beast over a conversation with that guy any day.

As he approaches the mountain the God forms an intimidating sight. He’s almost as tall as the mountain and even the greataxe he carries is nearly of equal height. The God is dressed in black and red, dark layers of cloth mixed with equally dark pieces of metal armour that provide protection and mobility in equal measure. The armour is especially present on his left side as his entire arm from the shoulder down is covered with a spiked black metal gauntlet. His hair is a fiery shade of red and his eyes a bright pale shade of grey that stands out from his tanned skin, but more noticeable than any of those facial features are the burn scars that cover part of the left side and run down his neck, disappearing under his clothes. 

Any mortal with any sense at all would tremble in fear at the sight of the New God but the young man that stands on the balcony of the tower looks unimpressed. Annoyed, even, as he looks up at the God with his arms crossed over his chest. 

“You’re late.”

The God grins down at the human, baring sharp canine teeth at the golden-haired young man dressed in white.

“What was that? I can’t hear you down there, the winds are pretty loud you know. You’ll have to speak up.”

While others might have sunk to the ground from just the volume of the God’s voice and its attention on their person, this human, this mage-king, only narrows his eyes and speaks a single word.

“Kneel.”

With a grunt Athene the Vicious, Athene the Hound, the God and Divine Guardian of this kingdom, sinks to a single knee.

“There, is that better?” the human asks with a sarcastic drawl.

Athene’s lips twist into a snarl, but that’s about all he can do. He’s bound in magic not to harm the human no matter how much he’d love to teach him a lesson.

Fuck he really hates this guy.

“Now, what kept you so long?”

“Oh y’know, stopped to see the sights. Smell the flowers. Fight the giant fucking scorpion-looking bitch that decided to try and rip out my kidneys.” 

The human doesn’t have dibs on sarcasm, Athene can do that too. The mage-king makes a very specific point of not rolling his eyes in exasperation. He’s used to the God’s behaviour and choice of language at this point.

“A shame it didn’t go for your tongue instead. Now tell me where this happened.”

The wide balcony around the tower includes something of a standing desk. It’s not meant to be used most of the time, but it has clasps that help with keeping papers in place when someone wants to write or draw while outside. In this case the thing that’s between the clasps is a large map that shows a part of the world. To be specific, it shows the part of the world that Athene has been charged with guarding.

“It was about halfway between Basile and the south-eastern border.”

“Cerise’s kingdom..”

The mage-king’s hand moves across the map with a pencil. At Athene’s nod he makes a mark.

“There has been an increasing imbalance of Beasts arriving from the east compared to Beasts arriving from the west. That combined with the fact that we have yet to see a messenger return from those borders, I don’t like the implications of that.” He’s mumbling to himself more than he’s talking to the God but Athene still responds.

“It’s more than that.”

The mage-king’s clear blue eyes snap up at that. He doesn’t have to speak a command for Athene to respond.

“This week had Nine Beast attacks. Nine. That’s three more than last week so that’s an overall increase. But more than that, it’s like they’re getting smarter.”

Until this point in the conversation the mage-king hasn’t shown any fear. He knows he’s safe from this God, he knows that it can’t hurt him. This information though? This is worrying, more than anything.

“They’re what?”

Athene’s lips pull into a tight line.

“We’re fucking lucky I had a marked creature I could teleport to in the area because by the time I got there it was barreling directly for Basile. And I don’t just mean in that vague direction, I mean directly. It was like it knew where it was, and like it was dead-set on getting there in record time. But more concerning?”

He stares directly at the mage-king, meeting his gaze with a solemn look.

“It didn’t care about me at all. It didn’t attack me until I attacked it first, and even then it tried to continue its journey until I did some decent damage to its legs.”

“That’s impossible.” The mage-king looks shaken. Understandable, since the last thing any ruler would wanna hear is that the creatures hunting their people are getting smarter. “Beasts hunt the Gods as much as they hunt humans. They wouldn’t just ignore you. Answer honestly, is that true?”

The God grits his teeth as the command registers and immediately responds with a sharp “Yes.” Fucking hell. “Seriously do you even need to ask? Why the hell would I lie about something like that.” He glares at the mage-king who just glares back at him.

“This isn’t the kind of situation where there can be any doubt.” And prideful as the human looks, Athene notices the way his hands grip the desk. The way his posture is tenser than usual.

“So. They may have figured out a way of narrowing down human locations and,” there’s a brief stutter in his breath “they’re solely going after humans unless you directly interfere.”

For a moment both human and God are quiet. Regardless of their feelings about each other this is terrible news for both of them. As nice as it would be to say that since they’re not going after him and therefore this is just a human problem now, that’s not an option. He’s bound in blood to kill Beasts, regardless of his personal feelings about them, and bound in magic to obey this mage-king who wields him against them like soldiers wield swords. If they’re getting smarter that just means they have a better chance at killing him.

“The day before yesterday they attacked in a group. Three of them were together and while it isn’t impossible for Beasts to hunt together-” “-it’s not common and the fact that they did it in the same week that you think they’re getting smarter is more terrible-” The mage-king notices his voice is getting louder and faster and takes just a second to take a deep breath. Then he continues. “It’s more terrible news.”

The human clasps his hands and closes his eyes for a moment. The guy looks like he’s trying very hard to keep his crisis internal so of course Athene has to push him.

“Nice to see I’m not the only one having a shit day.”

He grins at the human who opens his eyes to glare in response.

“I will have you know that my problems are your problems and therefore this is bad for both of us.”

Athene’s grin isn’t broken by that though, it just widens some more.

“Sure but usually I’m the only one actually dealing with the problems.”

The human snaps back with a snarl. “You think you’re the only one dealing with problems?”

“Well I sure don’t see your fragile ass marching into snowstorms to fight murderous Beasts.” “I don’t believe you would ever be capable of navigating the courts or dealing with the nobles and their endless prattling on about-” 

“Oh poor princess forced to sit in his cozy warm halls and eat his fancy food while-”

“My name is Faustin and that’s Your Majesty to you actually-”

“Fuck you why don’t you command me!”

The God’s voice shakes the floor that the mage-king is standing on and the second that it does those golden chains around his heart tighten. With a hiss he sinks down to both knees and grasps the chestplate over his heart. For a moment the God pants and gasps for breath. For a moment both of them are quiet. Once his breathing evens out Athene glares at the mage-king who stares back at him with an expression that’s hard to read.

Fuck he hates him so much. So much.

“Go. Return to your duties. Deal with the Beasts as they arrive, as always, and I’ll summon you when I need you.”

Making a rude gesture, Athene stumbles back onto his feet and turns around. Hate. That. Guy. What a bitch. The fucker. How he wishes he could just grab him and yeet that fucking princess into the fucking sun.

He teleports to a mountainside at the Western border and lands near his marked target, an overall unremarkable mountain goat. Grumbling to himself he makes his way to the usual place.

“Fucking bitch-ass princess with his fucking magic mehmehmeh look at me I can do whatever I like cause I have a God bound to my service except I didn’t fucking ask for this did I oh if I could fucking get him I swear-”

He kicks some larger boulders that rest near the foot of a mountain and sure, it helps him feel a little bit better. He takes a second to calm down then continues his path and begins to climb one of the mountains. It doesn’t take long for him to find what he’s looking for. At the other side of the mountain, on the side that borders Even’s domain, is a rope tied around the bottom of one particularly high peak. The rope spans the entirety of the deep valley between the two domains and he can just see where it ends, tied around the top of another mountain peak on the opposite side. And next to it..

A distant figure waves at him. It’s hard to tell details from a distance, especially with the snowstorm that’s nearly always present here, but the person on the opposite end of the valley is at least vaguely around the same height as him. They have a much thinner and feminine figure though, and long green hair that’s being whipped up and down by the strong winds. He can see the figure jumping up and down, waving her hands excitedly followed by an energetic pointing in his direction. He gives a smile, though he knows she won’t see it, and raises a hand in return. The waving on the opposite end only becomes more animated.

“Yeah yeah I know.”

With a smile he walks towards the mountain peak and crouches down next to it. And there, hidden in its shadow, is a closed basket woven from strands of reed. When he opens it up he finds some carefully placed flowers as well as four flat slabs of wood with words carved into them in a small blocky handwriting.

‘Hi Teo! How are you? I hope you’re doing okay! 

Did you know that foxes can sneeze? Centuries of existing in this world AND the one before and I’ve never heard a fox sneeze before! There was one drinking from one of the rivers, it was super cute and ginger like you but less red and more orange. It was extremely cute tho and I’ve named it Tea! I’m not sure if they’re a girl, it’s kinda difficult to check, but I guess Tea can be a gender neutral name. Easily. I wish you could meet her but I don’t wanna put her in the basket to risk the journey to your side, the line has snapped a few times and if she died from that I’d feel terrible and cry for ages. I don’t think I’d ever get over it actually. But anyways you just have to trust me when I say that she is the cutest little thing ever and I would die for her.

Also! I put some more flowers in the basket. Maybe you could try making tea? I saw a woman use the tiny white ones for tea and it looked like she enjoyed it. And now I’m wondering what they’d look like on Tea, I bet she’d look adorable in a flower crown. I don’t think I could make one that fits her tho, she’s so tiny so any flowers that fit on her head would need to be even tinier. I’m gonna try tho! Anyways it’s all going well here. We’ve had some Beasts but I dealt with them! Easy. Hope you’re staying safe there! Hope your mage isn’t giving you too much trouble! If he is. I don’t know. Pranking isn’t against any commands right? Could you move his tower a few inches to the left you think? Probably not without destroying it but maybe? Ideas!

Love you lots and lots of love and many mental/spiritual hugs!

Ri’

His smile widens as he reads the letter. As always, her handwriting gets smaller and smaller the closer she gets to the bottom of the wooden slab. Three of them are filled with her words so one of them is left for him. As always, he makes himself more comfortable at the bottom of the peak and picks up the usual sharp rock that’s hidden in a little gap in the mountain. It’s no pen but it does the job well enough.

‘Hi Ri,

I’ve been okay. Same as usual’

He pauses for a moment, unsure of how to continue.

‘The princess is as annoying as always so nothing new there. I don’t think I could move his tower without destroying it but I’ll think about some other prank options. 

I trust you, Tea sounds adorable. I’m honoured you named them after me, I guess I’ll find something cute to name after you too now.’

He hesitates before continuing his writing. He doesn’t wanna worry her too much, but..

‘There’s some bad news though. It seems like some of the Beasts have been getting smarter. From the east specifically. Have you noticed anything on your end? Don’t worry though, I’ve been managing. It’ll take more than that to take me down.’

Fuck. He really hopes that doesn’t stress her out too much.

‘Just be careful okay? Take care of yourself. You better keep making good use of those clones of yours I don’t wanna hear anything about you getting in trouble in person. The Beasts might be focusing more on humans and less on us, so maybe you can make use of that? For however much that’s worth considering the whole thing we’re bound by.’

He grimaces. This is getting too dark and that’s really not the point of these conversations. 

‘Thanks for the flowers, they look as beautiful as always. I’ll try to make some tea with them, in honour of both you and Tea. Until next time.’

He pauses for just a moment, then finishes.

‘Your friend,

Teo’

He stops his writing and looks at the other side of the valley. The rope has been lowered on her end and she’s sitting next to the peak instead of jumping up and down now. Time for him to do his part then. He stands up and puts the slabs on the ground then unties the rope around the bottom of the peak. With steady hands he rigs the handle of the basket through the rope, puts the slabs in the basket, closes it tightly, then raises the rope while holding the basket. On the other side, Ri gets up.

Teo slowly lets go of the basket and watches it race down the rope. The winds howl and tear against the basket but they’re blowing in the right direction today. The basket safely reaches the other side and Ri grabs it as soon as she can. With the basket clutched tight against her chest she gives her friend another wide and energetic wave. He can’t help but chuckle lightly and wave back.

Things aren’t great, life isn’t great and it might be about to get worse. But at least they’re not completely alone. Not really. Not anymore.