Hindu Pantheon Week

Hi there! I don't know if you were aware but here we go for another year! I had fun preparing the event last year, so I wanted to repeat it again in 2024!

This time the countdown will be a week before we start so stay tuned! Meanwhile, here you have the official list for 2024!

DAY 7: FREE

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DAY 6: FIRE

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DAY 5: GENDER SWITCH

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DAY 4: FLOWERS

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Healing Heart

Chapter 1 ⁓ Sorrow

🪷Pairing: Shiva x Fem!human reader

🪷Warnings: mention of illness, wounds, blood, death, angst

🪷Chapter 1 of 2. Prompts used for the @hindupantheonw: Blood (Day Two) ⁓ Flowers (Day 4) 

🪷Setting: Post Ragnarok

🪷

«It’s enough, Y/N. You did your best, now it is time to rest… you need it too.»

The hand that rests on your shoulder is warm and firm, completely different from the one you are holding with all your strength, and on another occasion it would give you calm and energy; but now it almost bothers you, because it is the symbol of your defeat. Once again you lost, and you don’t even know why, where you went wrong, how. «I’m fine, don’t worry», you murmur without too much conviction to your assistant, bowing your head as you wipe your sweat-soaked forehead and then drop your hands in your lap, helpless and dazed by the effort and pain.

«Y/N…»

«Please, don’t say anything else. I… I just want silence now.»

The small, dim room is so hot that it is suffocating and full of the smell of smoke, healing herbs and medicines that you have tried in vain to apply; all you need is the myrrh, the Treasure of the Dead, which you hesitate to retrieve from your bag, and then the air will become completely unbreathable and it will be impossible for you to stay here much longer. And yet, even though you are immersed in the heat and trapped among the miasmas that are leaving the body of those who you were unable to hold back and are trying in vain to pierce the cloth mask that protects your face, you are still unable to move, transformed into a statue from the dull anger you feel inside you, entirely aimed at your person. You don’t even accept the payment that the family of the newly deceased offers you, because this serves to repay something you didn’t manage to do; and even if you know that it could hardly have gone otherwise, the guilt poisons your chest and pinches your throat, and you are not ashamed of letting out a long furious moan. «What’s not working? I have tried everything: all the possible treatments, all the advice, I even went to the cities to consult with those who know more than me, I brought the most expert people here with me… why does nothing seem to cure this disease?» You don’t dig the nails into the palms of your hands just because now it would be dangerous to open a wound; but such is the urgency that you tremble from head to toe, and holding back the tears becomes increasingly difficult. The room seems to shrink around you and want to lock you up in its clutches, and when you finally manage to get up and leave that place, almost running, the tears flow freely down your cheeks and you find yourself completely broken, destroyed down to your heart.

No one holds you back, stops to look at you or scolds you for letting yourself go: alone, standing in the doorway of a house that isn’t yours, you lower your mask and moan pitifully, you sob and huddle in your arms, unable to stop the tremors of your body, while the profound silence of your village enters you with another stab. Other people left during the night, and the same thing this morning, and it will be the same in the afternoon and evening to come, because this is what everyone does, they leave: those who do not yet have the symptoms of the disease flee, the pilgrims and foreigners arrive and immediately leave the few, desolate houses, and those who instead start a longer journey, from which there is no possible return... they...

«It’s not right», you whisper with a broken voice, «there must be a way, a method and a cure that I haven’t discovered yet... it can’t end like this. One more chance, one hope, that’s all I ask for! But not this silence, not our death. What do I still have to give? What do I have to sacrifice? Someone tell me! Somebody, somebody tell me what to do!»

... Every time you lack courage, every time you feel like you can’t do it anymore and that the path is impossible, you think back to that terrible moment. You recall that lifelessness, the immobility around you, the desperation you felt when no one responded to your heartbreaking cry, and you breathe forcefully; you can’t do anything else, now that you have put aside all medical procedures to look for other paths ― dangerous paths, which you had never considered before and will certainly leave a mark on you, but perhaps the only ones that can answer your prayers and do much more than you could have accomplished alone. Perhaps.

Even here, at the foot of the imposing, immobile and cold mountain that seems to bend over you with its high curved tip, there is silence: but it is different from what you have known for almost a year. This is pure, it is good and sacred: there is nothing wrong with it nor in this land that smells of fresh air ― how long has it been since you breathed wind that smelled of fruit and grass, of the sea, of everything but the scent of illness and death! ― and flowers still fresh with dew, with wealth and possibility. Nothing is cruel here… except for you and your bag which is still empty, but not for long; and at this thought, with your tongue blocked by nervousness that becomes open fear, you try to murmur your apologies, hoping that there is someone who understands.

Wise words, the only reserves of hope, have brought me here and the village has placed all its trust on my shoulders. It’s not about right or wrong anymore... it’s just about life and death. And I must try everything so that the second does not prevail.

Now that you are close to your goal, everything becomes more difficult: every moment that passes is a minute less of salvation for your people, you cannot linger long, and at the same time it is not so easy to enter this land where the gods are very close to humans, even if these deities are not the ones you pray to ― or would pray to, if only you had faith in them; and precisely because you don’t know these, but know very well that they are here, you must proceed with caution, fear and be ready for anything.

I’ve only been away from home for six days, but it feels like a whole month... I can’t take it anymore, fear devours me; but I’ll move on. I won’t stop now.

Although your feet are swollen and painful from the long walk and the body needs sleep, thirst torments you and hunger has never pricked you as much as in this moment, you begin to climb the narrow path that slowly leads towards the top of the mountain. The handle of the bag seems to be made of steel, it marks your shoulder and you nervously move it from side to side while you wipe away the sweat and your breathing becomes progressively heavier: however, the pain and fatigue are muffled by the feverish gaze you cast around, searching for what, if the sacred books didn’t lie, could be the only solution you have left. If you think about it, it is not difficult for this to be the case: many times, in your experience as a healer, it has been the slightest differences between the plants and their components, the conservation, the quantity and the preparation, that have changed everything; for this reason, among other things, you wanted to go in person to face the journey and use all your knowledge in the mission, leaving the village in the care of your assistants ― as if by staying there you could have done something more. The sky darkens for a moment as some clouds pass, bringing greater coolness, and you take the opportunity to breathe forcefully and push all thoughts away from you: these only serve to complicate the search even more, they cannot help you and you cannot allow yourself to lose focus now; although…

Even if, in the end, what you are looking for appears before you without you having to work too hard.

Under the sun that has just freed itself from the curtain of clouds, the enormous glade full of grass and flowers and the small lake that opens in the center of it, similar to a bathtub that invites purification before entering the woods that appear a little further away there, they shine in the day like silk; and you stop for a moment to contemplate them, concentrating above all on the lake, while for the first time after days and days you even manage to smile. It won’t be difficult now to find the plant you need, given that you were lucky enough to stumble upon a source of water almost immediately; and you no longer even feel tired as you run towards the lake and only stop when your feet are already inside it, intent on rummaging through the lake reeds and pushing your gaze towards its heart. As the books have told you, here are myriads of lotus flowers of colors you have never seen, mottled and so small that you can hold them on two fingers; and sobs of emotion and joy when you find the ones you need most, about which you couldn’t be wrong because you learned the description by heart. Fortunately, enthusiasm did not win over professionalism and now your bag fills more and more with blue lotus flowers as you pick them: dozens and dozens of them, even more precious than the gems you can find effortlessly in the caves of this mountain. You don’t feel the hours pass as you wander in strenuous search for lakes, breaking the skin of your feet and hands, giving thanks for even just one flower. By now the bag is struggling to close, and yet you still don’t stop; more and more, more, more, perhaps too much to be lawful, but if all this works… if all this succeeds, there will be no limit to the gifts you will bring in thanks. But now you have to think about something else, you don’t have to get distracted, you have to―

«What does a mortal search for in this land? Did you lose your way home, young woman?»

You stop as soon as you hear that deep voice, firm as rock, reach you from behind. You remain petrified in place like a statue, then instinctively hold your bag close to you, letting a few flowers fall onto the surface of the water, slowly backing away from the lake. You can barely hear your breathing, and your eyes are so dilated that they hurt while terror prevents you from even screaming. They are here. This is a land of gods, you know, and…

«Hmmm… did I scare you? You seemed very intent on your work, are you here for a sacrifice?»

Somehow, after a few moments you find the courage to turn and face the voice; and only the rustle of your feet coming out of the water remains, because even your breathing stops.

Standing on a large rocky spur overlooking the glade, the figure that has attracted your attention is much larger than you: it covers the sun so immense it is, and you cannot see it well precisely because it is backlit, thus appearing even more threatening. What you notice in your delirium ― you hope, you damn hope it’s delirium ― is that there are three… maybe four arms, two clasped on the chest and two more pointing towards you, and that what you see in the face… of the god… are three blazing eyes… and that’s enough.

«Wha― HEY! Where are you running? Stay here, I don’t want to do anything to you!»

The god stands astonished watching you run away with all the strength you have, your legs made incredibly fast by fear and the awareness of having attempted something that was not done for humans; and you run away, down the mountain paths and along the roads that lead out of the region, expecting to experience the pain of punishment with the ruthlessness due to the sacrilegious, continuing to flee with your treasure convulsively held in your arms and the energy of those who no longer have anything to lose.

🪷

Shiva would not have followed you if he had not seen that terror painted on your face, therefore understanding that you were there without permission and without a gift. He wouldn’t have punished you for that: the fear you felt was in itself a punishment enough… and yet, something still didn’t work, even after your escape; as if the place had continued to retain, in some way, the shadow of your presence and was intoxicated by it, imbued with an unparalleled sadness.

This more than anything else had made the god frown as, leaving the spur, he leapt to the ground and, although in full possibility of reaching you in a short time, he ignored your increasingly distant figure to investigate what you had done and that only by pure chance ― as if the infernal racket you had raised while running from clearing to clearing could be called chance ― he had interrupted. It didn’t take him long to understand what had happened and, the next moment, to get angered. One less Sacred Lotus flower is not a big deal, nor are dozens of them; but why to take away almost a hundred of them? Who and what had driven you to plunder the mountain of so many flowers?

Darkening the face and frightening even the early evening fallen upon him, Shiva had looked up and stared at the direction in which you had fled, immediately starting to follow the trail your fear had left; and it was not possible for you to hide from his terrible gaze… not now, given that he is so close to you that, if you were not so intent on your works, you could clearly feel nature and air vibrating under his fire breath.

Somehow, however, his presence is known to you; and as soon as you raise your eyes and focus them on the darkness that the fire you lit doesn’t illuminate, you see him clearly standing up against the night like a giant and staring back at you, and you immediately freeze in fear and fall to your knees.

«Here is the little robber. Can I join you, young woman?», begins Shiva as he comes out of the darkness and enters the circle of light, towering over you and staring at your face with all five eyes wide open. His anger is palpable and the fists are clenched, so tight that not even a glow could penetrate them, and in response you bow your head and grab the bag placed next to you, clutching it to your chest and cradling it like a creature born from your womb. You would like to speak, but you can’t because you are shaking, and you wait, you wait for the divinity to punish you as you deserve.

Shiva drinks your terror like water, comes closer and immediately turns up his nose, struck by the smell that your skin gives off: your body is well washed, yet it has a penetrating stench that makes him want to leave. This, however, saves you, because his mind is quiet for a moment and his words, however hard and firm, don’t destroy you: «You have committed a crime that you must atone for, and you know it; you made the mountain suffer, you took away a treasure sacred to the gods, and you entered a territory forbidden to you. This alone should cost you your life. However… however, for now, I won’t do anything to you, but I want them», he orders you, pointing to the bag and the flowers it contains, «leave the bag here and go away. Return to your home, and wait for me to join you; by then I will have already decided what fate to reserve for you.»

You bite your lip, then squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head. «No. I won’t…» You grip the bag tighter, the knuckles of your hands turning white from the effort of holding it. «I won’t give you my bag or the flowers. I cannot.»

«I think I didn’t hear you very well… can you repeat?» Shiva lowers the tone of his voice and gets closer until your bated breath touches his knees. Now you can clearly hear the dull roar of the fire moving inside him, and a tear rolls down your cheek as you tremble more. «Please, I beg you… don’t take these flowers away from me.»

«They are not yours, you stole them and committed sacrilege; the mountain must get them back. In this world thieves don’t meet a good fate, you know? Especially those who dare to take something away from the deities.» Shiva continues to smell the air, more and more shaken by the stench coming from you, and meanwhile he stares at your body: you are young, you are beautiful… and sick. The smell that is hitting him to the point of stunning him is that of the disease you carry with you, the same one that has plagued the mountain and that the gods cannot understand, they who know no decadence.

«Please… they are our only salvation», you murmur in response, your gaze fixed on the lotus flowers protruding from the bag, your hands caressing the petals, «I know I did a horrible thing… but I’ll pay! I’ll pay! How can I escape your wrath, after all? I know I will be punished for what I have done, and I have no intention of even trying to escape… but I ask you, I beg you, to give me time to return to my village and use these flowers to… to heal everyone…» Your sobs break your words, yet somehow you manage to speak. «I chose to commit this crime, the fault is mine and mine alone. I accept the consequences, but please… please… before you take my life, allow me to complete my mission. Then, I will wait for you and accept whatever you want to reserve for me. I beg you… if my prayer is worth anything to you, Great God, accept it.»

«Your only salvation? What are you talking about?», Shiva asks you first, sliding a hand under your chin and forcing you to raise your head to look at him, squeezing your cheeks, «what do you want to do with these flowers?»

You swallow, almost burned by his heat and intimidated by his eyes, but desperation gets the better of you. «My village is dying due to a disease that we cannot defeat. I’ve tried, I’ve tried in a thousand ways… I’ve consulted those who are wiser and more skilled than me, wandered everywhere, asked for advice, lost sleep… but nothing seems to work. The last thing left for me is to follow what the sacred books say about the powers of the Sacred Lotus… that’s why I did what I did. It is our last hope, the only road I have seen before me, and as the village’s healer, its fate depends on me… and on you, if you will allow me to return home with this.» Shiva’s face remains impassive, and you drop your bag and raise your hands to him in supplication. «Please, let me heal my people… let me try to do it, at least!»

Shiva narrows his eyes, and his voice comes out sternly: «You and your people are not my faithfuls. Your land is not under my gaze, I owe you nothing nor do you owe me anything. So… why should I help you? Why should I grant you what you ask for, even if you beg me earnestly? Answer me.»

You stare at the god with your eyes full of sadness, tiredness and determination. «Because it would be the first help one god would offer to me. Because as much as I am afraid of you, of what you will do to me… the fear of losing all my friends, my people, is stronger. Nothing can overcome it.»

«You…» Shiva remains motionless upon hearing these words, deeply struck by the intensity with which you pronounce them and by what you say, and he grits his teeth as he feels all the strength of them descend into his chest and spread everywhere like pain, like pity. «I should take your life here and now, instead of listening to you babble.»

«If you wish to do it, do it. But please, then bring the cure to the village: take the Sacred Flowers and cure the villagers. They didn’t do anything, they don’t deserve any punishment, it was me who violated the mountain and disrespected you, not them. Please, I beg you… choose the way, but save them. Don’t leave them alone.»

The Lord of Destruction grimaces and tries to hide how upset he is, then his gaze becomes even more intense. «You have no fear at all, girl…», he murmurs, then sighs, shakes his head and his tone softens a little. «You are stupid, naive, you are a thief and a terrible blasphemer… but your heart is good, and you are courageous. By the way… these flowers are too powerful and dangerous for you to handle them without respect and fear. They require blood offerings to heal someone.»

«I know it… I’m ready.»

«But you already have the stench of the disease on you. Your blood may already have been affected by it.»

You widen your eyes in surprise, then smile bitterly and your eyes water more. «Well… I should have expected it: sooner or later it would have happened to me too. I must still be in the early stages…» You swallow, and your hands shake as they close on the bag. «I can still do it…»

Shiva listens to you, then bites his lips and immediately bends down to the ground, opens the bag and takes a flower. «You humans…», he murmurs, and then puts his hand in his mouth and bites it forcefully.

You gasp when you see blood dripping from his fingers and instinctively jump up and hold out your hands to see the wound, as you are used to doing in your job; without too much kindness, Shiva pushes you away with the other hands and, grabbing the lotus flower, squeezes it in his palm and lets the blood imprint its petals, then hands it to you. «Chew and swallow it. My blood is clean and will heal you, so your village won’t lose its healer too… for now.»

You obey without question, then nod and hold what is left of the flower close to you. «… Thank you… for listening to me…», you murmur as you finish eating the flower, not knowing what else to say, and the god responds with a grunt, crossing his four arms over his chest and staring at you. «Now, lay down and sleep. You have to rest, you barely stay awake.»

«But… I have to get back to the village as soon as possible, and―»

«You’ll sleep. Now you aren’t in a condition to cure anyone, and it may take some time for you to recover. If you want to help others, you are the first one who must be healthy and strong.»

Shiva’s tone is so granitic that you don’t even find the energy to try to reply, and you nod. «Just for tonight. Tomorrow I will continue my journey…»

The god frowns at your stubbornness, but doesn’t respond. He stares at you as you lay on the cloak you have spread on the ground and wrap yourself in it, curling up as if in a cradle, and he also watches as your hand reaches out and drags the bag under the cloak; at this sight, he can’t help but smile slightly, so he joins you and sits next to you, leaning to your ear. «Don’t even think about running away, because I will hunt you down wherever you go. I will come to the village with you and I will not lose sight of you for an instant, I will be your shadow and your nightmare. Whatever the outcome of this madness, you are mine.»

You nod, staring for a few moments at the fire dancing happily in front of you, and close your eyes. The taste of blood fills your throat, the presence of the god at your side intimidates you, but at the same time there is hope now, there is a minimum relief. «Thank you for listening to me, Great God, and for healing me… thank you. Now I belong to you, and I’m no longer afraid», you murmur, feeling the warmth of his skin poking you and basking yourself under the cloak.

Day 3: Defeat

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Day 2 Blood

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DAY 1: NAP

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AHHHHH