puppy reader, who gets annoyed if 141 smell like someone reader doesn't know and sad if she smells them on each other, knowing that this little puppy was left out of fun
Cute puppy reader who will literally try to bite Ghost's dick off because a)it will regenerate anyway and it's fun and b) because she can smell Ghost on Soap and she is jealous because she wasn't invited( needy pups are getting punished, of course, by both her lieutenant and her sergeant, but it doesn't stop her from whining like a dumb puppy. She wasn't even invited to watch them, and this is makes her extremely anxious and sad( poor little baby, she really needs to get her pussy played with, or else she will whine the whole time she is left out of fun(
It's not fair, honestly, when she can smell someone else on Gaz when they are cuddling...harpy is trying to understand why his usually chill and happy pup become so sad, but you just want your favorite people to stop treating you like a dumb pet who doesn't know anything( if they are playing with someone else, you can play with them too, you have energy! Turned out that Gaz was just in the training session with some other hybrid, and the scent lingered a bit too long - still, you will bite and scratch at him, and he accepts his punishment with grace. Out of everyone, even Soap, he is the softest - always allowing his pup to run around freely.
It's hard to smell anything on Price besides cigarettes, but you are still able to pick up on bitter scents of other people - and even though he doesn't sleep with anyone else, he will still get angry at you for even suggesting that. Dumb pup is going to get her butt spanked and plugged with the biggest plug he could put in you without breaking your sorry hole - but this is the only mercy you will get. If you dare to bite him out of selfish desire to mark the bear hybrid, he will put a really uncomfortable muzzle on you, making you whine and scratch on it as he bounces you on his cock( dumb pup should have know better than to question him!
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Everyone thinks Ghost is just an angsty emo boy, who sometimes takes things too far and makes people uncomfortable when he says things like "I keep trying to die, but God doesn't want me" and "I'm immortal until proven otherwise, and so far all signs point to yes" when in reality God actually fears him and won't let him die because if he does he'd regain his memories and powers and The Big Guy Upstairs™️ is biding his time trying to figure out how to keep Ghost nerfed.
It isn't until Soap, introduced to Ghost through devine intervention that neither is aware of, continuously gets sent to the hospital for his increasingly dangerous and self sacrificing stunts in the field, that Ghost stops doing suicide missions because the two make a pact to try not to die for one another.
Idk, some kinda God-killer-divine-beast!Ghost AU or something
Long Post-
Monster!Ghost/Human!Soap
- Blood and gore (not too graphic a description, but it's there)
- May get spicy later
- Caves
-Thalassophobia warning
Soap is part of a recon team sent to investigate a strange cave system that was found when a sinkhole opened up, swallowing an old church and a few patrons who were attending the service that day.
The team is sent to find any survivors and bring them out. What they aren't counting on when they arrive is the apparent violence that went down inside the cave system unrelated to the collapse. There doesn't appear to be any survivors that any of them can see, but they keep looking. Traveling further into the caves, the carnage only grows. It seems that some of them tried to flee whatever was chasing them, unsuccessful as they were.
Johnny doesn't want to say it, but he is starting to feel uneasy. they're trekking through waist-high, blood filled water and continue to pass by what look to be bits of people floating by. Gaz seems unnerved too, for what it's worth at least. He can't see Roach or their captain, but he's certain they're feeling the same.
And then they come to a large chamber, where the parts seem to be floating out from. It's large enough that their torches do next to nothing to illuminate inside of it. The water seems to be getting deeper.
Soap stops. The water is up to his chest now, but in shining the light he can't see the bottom in front of him. A drop off. No telling how deep it goes. Roach makes to pass him and Soap holds his arm out, stopping him dead in his tracks. He gestures with his torch and Roach has the same chilling realisation.
They stand there for a moment, contemplating what to do as they whisper amongst themselves. The whispers, quiet as they are, seem to echo around the chamber. Something they realise much too late as they hear a harsh screech come from somewhere within, followed by a loud splash. They exchange glances, and Price gives the order to turn back. Given what they've found and then what they heard, there's no way there are any survivors. Turning back to the tunnel opening, they begin to move as silently as they can in water as deep as they're in. Soap sticks to the back, keeping an eye out to ensure his team gets out safely. It's a decision he has made a million times before and one he'd continue to make millions of times again. His team is his family, and he'll do anything to protect them.
Even if that means he's the one that's taken. Something wraps around his ankle, pulling him swiftly down into the water before he can even cry out. The others continue on, not seeming to even realise his absence. He's pulled backward through the tunnel at a speed he didn't think possible. He tries to escape, kicking at the thing around his ankle as hard as he can, but the water slows his movements. He remembers his knife, fumbling a bit through the panic as he pulls it out. He curls up to reach his ankle, slashing at the thing around it… and a hand lets him go. There are a series of clicks and whistles that sound to be all around him at once, and as he surfaces to take a deep breath of air, he realises he's surrounded by darkness. Darkness his torch can't break through. Deep water all around him. He's in the chamber. In the chamber where the creature seems to live. In the chamber where all the people from the church were slaughtered.
He can't even begin to think of which direction to swim in to get back to his team. Can't tell where there's a place for him to swim to so he can rest before finding his way out.
He's so incredibly lost and out of his depth. He's scared. He already had thalassophobia, but this is taking things to a whole new level, and now he's trapped in here with some.. thing that has human-like hands and tried to drown him. Something that wants to rip him apart. Something that's probably angry because he stabbed it with…
Fuck! His knife!! He must have dropped it when trying to swim away, or maybe it's still in the thing's hand. His guns are waterlogged, his grenades would work, but using those right now? In the cave system? He doesn't think he'd survive if he were to accidentally cause an explosion that collapsed an unstable tunnel or caused a rain of stalactites. His comms are dead, not even static reaching his earpiece and not a sound when he tries pressing buttons. He's practically defenseless.
Picking a random direction that he thinks is the one he was dragged from, Soap starts to swim as silently as he can. It takes a moment, but he sees what looks like an island ahead. A mound of sedimentary rock sticking up from the water with a gentle incline. Reaching it, he pulls himself out of the water and onto the hard surface. He's never felt so happy to feel the scrape of rough rock beneath his gloved hands. Once he's out of the water, he lets himself collapse for a second. Resting. Breathing.
Soon though, he's up on his feet, walking up the side of the mound to get as far away from the water as he can. In doing so, he comes across a small alcove carved into a wall that seems to reach upward forever. An alcove with bits of clothing strewn about it. An alcove with old looking pictures pasted to the walls somehow, pictures of a family. Pictures of a soldier. Pictures of that soldier with his unit. A picture of him and a few others dressed in caving gear.
Caving gear. Soap pats the pouches lining his belt, looking for the one that contains the pitons he brought just in case. Finding them, he pulls one out. It'll have to do for a weapon, especially when he finds himself in what appears to be this thing's nest. As if on cue, he hears a splash and a wet thunk. The sound of bare wet feet and hands against stone. A low droning noise that tapers off into a soft chitter.
Soap can feel his heartbeat pick up and tries to keep his breathing quiet and steady. He slowly walks backward, away from the sound of the creature coming closer. Walking backward, however, leads him to not see where he's going. Walking backward causes him to trip over a stalagmite and fall back, head slamming into the hard rock below with a crack. His vision swims as he pats the ground around him with a pained groan.
He doesn't even hear as the creature scurries toward him, but as his vision focuses again, he can see it hovering above him in the dim light of his torch. He wants to move away, wants to scream and lash out to get it away from him, but all he manages is a slight shift and a pained whimper. The creature, as his vision focuses more, looks much too human. Humanoid, but very much changed. Still, he can tell that whatever he's become, this is the same man that's in the photos pasted to the walls of the alcove. His eyes are different, milky and glazed over where he's been in the dark so long. His skin is pale and almost translucent. His blonde hair stringy and missing in places. Tendrils grow from his face, waving out in front of him as he sniffs at the air. They remind him of the catfish Price caught during one of their "team-building" fishing trips. His hands end in pointed nails, clammy and pale as the rest of him. On his ribs there appear to be slits, gills, maybe? A paddle-like tail slaps the ground behind him as he tilts his head. When he opens his mouth to let out a quiet chirp, Soap can see that his teeth are sharp, perfect for tearing apart flesh.
Soap is scared. *Terrified.* But the thing doesn't attack him. He simply turns and stalks into the alcove for a moment before coming back out and staring in his direction again. He goes back in once more, and then comes out again, this time coming back to Soap and nudging him before going back. Does he want him to follow? Soap gets up, slow as he is to do so, and makes his way to the alcove.
The creature is waiting at the opening, and as he senses Soap draw near, heads inside. Soap follows him in, and watches as he pulls some of the clothing scrap away to reveal a small child. One of the survivors. She's still alive, but bruised and beaten up. The creature had rescued her. Kept her safe. Dragged Soap here for her. Soap looks at the creature, confused. If he was keeping her alive, if he brought Soap to her, why did he kill the others??
His answer comes in the form of the creature quickly moving to put himself between Soap and the alcove entrance. He stands on his legs, making himself bigger by spreading his legs and arms. Soap can hear something shifting around on the rock outside. Can hear low squeaks and clicks. The creature in front of him lets out a low growling drone, tail flicking. He's not the only one of his kind here. There's more than one. This creature wasn't the one that slaughtered all of those people, the others were. This little girl is likely the only survivor.
CN mentions of death, mentions of murder, mentions of cannibalism, arranged marriage, disrespecting and displaying a corpse, ableist language, internalised toxic masculinity, creepy observers with no understanding of boundaries, warning for those who have issues with paranoia, König has issues and needs fairy tale therapy
Not sure how the phases of the moon work? Click here.
Notes for better understanding at the bottom!
Partly beta-read by the amazing @queenquazar. There are typos in there but I need to publish this asap before spiralling into another round of rewriting this for the 10th time. also, thank you so much for baring with me.
6.9k words
Masterlist
this is a hit or miss chapter. love it or hate it. i am ready to throw out my laptop bc this chapter was hard to write.
Oh and I made a playlist for this series. Enjoy.
As the King of Everything from Under the Water, König never grew tired.
As a man, König felt like he was grinding his bones into dust.
The never-ending work started to get to him, eternal weariness was wearing him down like a stone getting chipped away in the currents.
He yawned.
During the day König worked on the Half-Palace. The Half-Palace was getting close to being done, rising up into the sky as high up as it reached down low and deep into the waters. It was a marvel. But König was not done yet, working tirelessly to finish his new residence to finally marry and bring his fiancé home safely.
During the night König guarded his Bride. With his axe in his hands, he stalked her garden, carefully avoiding her strawberry patches and making sure no villager or malevolent creature harmed her. The rumours of a human maiden marrying the Vodyanoy had made its rounds, and König started to see more unusual unwelcome guests creeping in the shadows. Sometimes he found villagers too, boys who turned on their heels just at the sight of König’s giant frame, axe, and piercing deep blue, ever-seeing eyes. Not all the trespassers were clever enough to run away at the sight of him. Twice König used his axe and spilled blood. First time it was a Tschort trying to sneak through the kitchen window. The other time a Kikimora nearly made her way to the Bride’s window. König got to them both in time, killing the intruders with quick blows of his axe and hanging them up in the alder tree around the bride’s house for the night as a warning. The first time his bride cried out at the sight of it, the second time she did not cry anymore.
During the few moments in between when he walked at the lakes beach with her or closed his eyes for a moment, worry consumed any thought in König’s mind. His Bride was fragile. The creeping beings in the shadows wanted her blood, her tender flesh, her inheritance. There was danger everywhere and König started to feel on edge from being on the lookout all the time. In all his life he had experienced worries and insecurities. Now he had learned to fear - for her.
In those moments König wished he could just ignore all tradition and carry her to the half-finished Half-Palace before the wedding to keep her out of the hands of those that wanted to tear and bite and kill and devour her. But then he looked at his own hands - long clawed fingers that could wrap around her neck and break it like a twig or drag her down the deep waters until she was nothing but a lifeless body. The first time that realisation hit him, it had mortified König. He was a danger - just like all the others. And she was just a girl. A girl that managed to get tangled up with him. Baba Jaga’s words still hung over him, telling him he had to sacrifice something to keep his Bride safe. Something deep inside of him knew he had done it wrong, all of it so far. Her fear of water was testimony of it. And so he sacrificed everything for her. But one question remained.
Will it be enough?
Feeling tired and drained, König sighed and made another round to check for danger. For now, no one was there but the moon, rising over the gable of the Bride’s house.
Peaceful, calm, familiar.
König nodded in greeting to the silent lunar wanderer. At least the moon was not out for his Bride. For now.
Of course, the thin slice of the waxing crescent did not nod back.
It was the moon after all.
König let himself fall onto the grass again, leaning against her door and closed his eyes.
A moment, just a moment of rest.
Rest.
Rest.
Rest…
Sleep was alluring. It called to him like the Rusalkis called for him to return to just being in the water.
Just a little bit...
Just a bit closer…
No harm in it…
With a low “thud” the axe slipped out of his hands, waking König back up from his light short slumber.
König shook his head.
No! He had to stay up. Another Tschort could try to crawl in any moment or Ivar might wipe up the village into a frenzy and come for her. His Bride was so frail in comparison to him, a little maiden and nothing more. Just yesterday she cut herself with a kitchen knife. Or was it tomorrow? Does not matter! One day she would hurt herself again and he had to make sure that would not happen. He could take it, not sleeping and working every moment. His body will withstand. He was a king after all! He was her guardian, her fiancé and soon-to-be husband, her man.
And she was worthy of König to grind himself down as a payback for the life he had condemned her to and the pain he would cause her with his huge hands and sharp claws. Sleep and labour was a necessary sacrifice.
“You are an idiot.”
König looked up, searching for the source of those words.
“Oh, don’t look so surprised. You are an idiot and deep down you know it already.”
König got up from his spot, taking up his axe.
“Who is it! Come out! Show yourself!” The king called.
“I am not hiding myself. You just don’t see what is in plain sight like the fool that you are.”
Confused, König's head whipped around, searching for whoever was talking to him.
“Here, little king. Up!” The voice called. “You are not used to looking up when speaking, aren’t you?”
As told, König looked up while raising the axe in expectation to see a new threat, a new danger, a new assailant.
What he saw instead was the moon.
“Hello.”
König blinked, not understanding how and why the thin lunar sickle was smiling down at him.
“Don’t look so surprised!” the moon scolded with a laughing tone. “You greeted me yourself.”
“How?” König asked, lowering the axe.
“You are asking me how I can speak?”
König considered the moon's words before smiling shyly like a kid getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
“Okay, that’s fair. You can speak just like I can.”
If the moon could nod it would have done so. Somehow König felt like far out in the interstellar realm of implausibility the moon indeed did nod at him.
“Why after millennia of not speaking to me you do now, moon? I greet you twice a day.”
“I grew to like you, little one. And I got bored watching you self-mortifying yourself. It was entertaining for a while until it became the most pointless thing I have witnessed in a long time.”
“What do you mean, Moon? I am not mortifying myself! How would you even know.”
The moon raised an eyebrow at König. Somehow it did that.
“Please. I have better eyes for that than you, little king. I do nothing else but watch and witness.”
Unconvinced, König crossed his arms.
“What do you know about me and my worries?” He countered.
“Only about half of it. I just see you at night.” The moon admitted. “Shame really. You doing everything else but talking to your fiancé is quite the sight.”
“What is there to talk about?” König replied. “Spare me. Everything is clear. She is just a nice girl who ended up engaged with me, so I have the duty to protect her.”
“Sure, little king. Then you would have no issue just crossing that doorstep of hers and telling her that. Sacrifice the facade and just take her to that Half-Palace of yours and be done with it. It’s all just formalities and traditions at this point. You are just concerned for her safety.”
“I am concerned for her safety.”
König gazed around the dark garden. There was the spot where Ivar had threatened his Bride. And the alder tree König had strung up those that had wanted to harm her. And the axe with which nowadays he did as much killing and fighting as he did building.
“That’s all?”
“That’s all.”
XXX
König looked at the Bride’s door. The familiar wooden frame she walked through every day. It would be easy to just open it and go in. Or knock? König felt like she would appreciate a knock before getting dragged out of her family home in the middle of the night in the name of her safety and his pragmatic marital claims.
Up in the night sky the thin moon sickle was grinning at the sight of the fool calling himself King, silent and expectant to watch something - anything - happen.
But it did not.
Not every night was calm and spent in solitude.
A bunch of laughing and giggling Rusalkis decided to join him and the occasionally appearing fox on his guard post. König looked around, seeing the half-moon rise above the horizon. It had been silent ever since that night a while back.
Of course, the Bride was still sleeping in her own house.
Of course, he had not even attempted to move her from it.
They were still unmarried.
It was tradition König told himself.
She would not want to be in the nearby finished castle with him anyway.
“Why so grim dear Vodyanoy?”
Startled, König spinned around, teeth barren and the axe in his hands.
“Easy.” A rusalka straying behind soothingly replied, her hands up.
König stilled.
“Oh it is you, Lada.” He said and lowered his axe, “I am sorry. I thought someone had crept up to me.”
Lada leaned forward. Her pretty eyes gazed up at him as she lowered her hands.
“You know, not everyone is out there to get you or the Devitsa, Vodyanoy. Take a rest. We can guard her in the meantime.”
“No.” He grumbled. “It’s nice that you are here to help, but she is my responsibility to carry. I brought this upon her.”
Curiously, she leaned forward.
“Oh, you do that a lot these days, König.” Her words splashing down her lips like a lively spring, unimpressed by the near display of violence moments before. “Always responsibility. Always offering yourself up like that makes a difference. Tell me, is this spectacle for you or her?”
“It’s not a spectacle.” König replied, moving back from her and crossing his arms before him.
Lada grinned.
“Alright. Sure. Good luck.” She declared and waved a goodbye at him before, jumping back like a firefly raving in zig zag over a pond's water. König watched Lada return to the other Rusalkis, giving a sharp, toothy and nearly careless smile to flirt with the Fox. They seemed so content with chatting in the moonlight. As if stalking and hunting intruders was a Rusalki past-time. Knowing the Rusalkis it probably was.
König suppressed a yawn, unwilling to admit Lada was right. He really needed to take a break. Soon, when he was married and the bride was safe. He would have given anything he had in him then. But until the wedding there was no point of even thinking about rest or the life leisure he had known before.
Was he really that busy all the time?
Unapproachable and lost in his own thoughts nowadays?
König remembered how much time he used to spend with the Rusalkis. Oh, he did. They had played, filling the air with splashed water, with laughter, with moans.
It felt so long ago.
He hadn’t even thought about it.
Would his marriage remove him forever from that part of his life?
He stilled as the realisation hit. It hurt. But only a little.
Thinking about the Bride's little human fingers that tangled his hair, asking him how his day was, telling him about hers pleased him. König had gotten used to the Bride in his life so quickly, he wanted more of it.
But enough to stop lust and satisfy his more carnal desires?
She…
You promised to guard her, protect her, make her your Queen. Nothing else. König reminded himself unhappily and looked up, searching for answers in the night sky.
There were none, only the looming moon.
It was as if the half-moon was watching him with mockery, observing König’s thoughts and temptations.
König grunted.
Fine, maybe she was charming in many ways. He had to admit that to himself. But maybe that was another sacrifice he had to make for the sake of her. König was sure they could find an arrangement at some point. There was little he promised nor expected from her outside of their marriage. But that was for a moment in the future when he had the right words for it.
Until then, his tasks were easy: No sleep, no leisure, no lust.
König tapped on the hilt of the axe. It’s been a couple of days since he had to use it as a weapon and the calm waiting was wearing him down nearly as much as thinking about his forbidden Bride - her clever remarks, her unrelenting will to life, her careful steps around water. If he asked her opinion about his sacrifices she would say something wise. She always seemed to do, giving him little knowing looks over tea cups, over the lake, over hot puffs of breath escaping her lips. And when she spoke her words rang in his ear like music. Melodic syllables falling from her mouth like raindrops and teaching him of the world.
Now the bride's words were siren songs to him.
He sat down into the grass and watched the house of the bride. There she was, sleeping her well earned rest. And he was outside where he belonged with his claws and flaws and desires. He looked up to the sky. Cold stars and the unmoving moon grinned down at him, silent and calm unlike his thoughts. König wondered if it was easier that way, just to watch and never to do. Just to witness but never to participate.
No wonder the moon is a judgy creep.
König frowned, wishing he did not feel drained, unsure and like he had made the wrong decision.
Let them see. I will do right by her - König promised to himself.
XXX
The night was pleasant but cold. It had rained and the now cleared sky and fresh breeze added to the unusually cold summer weather. König was sitting right under the ledge of the roof, watching drops of the previous rain roll down from the leaves and running into little pools of water. It was calming. And with humid weather like that he knew at least no villager would show up, giving him one thing less to worry about.
König heard her steps before he saw her step out into the night. He looked up.
“König.” She greeted with a blanket around her shoulders. “Would you mind company? The full moon is so bright, and the rain kept drumming against the roof. I cannot sleep.”
He nodded before suspiciously eyeing the massive, silent luminary above them.
Creep.
She settled next to him under the dry roof, facing the dark garden and treeline with him.
“Are you okay?”
Her words reached into him and laughed at his convictions. Just hearing her voice made something stir in him.
“There was so little time these past days and we hardly spoke.” She continued. ”Can I help with something?”
König shook his head before even thinking.
His burden, not hers.
“No, Bride. You cannot fight the monsters lying in wait. You can’t even lift my axe.”
The thought of her facing another Kikimora, a Tschort or an angered, disapproving Rusalka terrified him. She did not even have teeth to tear and bite.
“Is fighting the only way to help?”
He looked down at her, the little pretty thing that he spent the day admiring while working and the night desperately trying not to think about.
She pressed her thighs closer to her body for warmth.
Tangled limbs, desperate touches, heated kisses. He could warm her up.
Instead, he lifted his arm and silently invited her closer. No point in keeping her cold.
“Yes, it is but it is unpleasant work, my Bride. We will marry soon, and you will be safe in the Half-Palace. Do not worry yourself.”
She moved closer, pressing herself into his warm body. With a stern look more for himself than to others König commanded the last of the drops on the grass and from the dripping roof not to touch his shivering maiden.
Of course, she did not notice, only purring like a cat before the warming fire.
For a moment they stayed like that as if she was thinking about his words while König closed his eyes for a moment, indulging in it.
“What will happen with my family’s house? I am fond of this place.” She asked finally.
König sighed and opened his eyes.
“Whatever you want, Bride. It is yours and it always will be.” He chuckled grimly. “Maybe you want to stay here every once in a while, when you grow tired of my company.”
“Do you think you are an unpleasant presence to be around?”
“At times.” He admitted.
“I do not.”
“You are too kind.”
“I doubt that.”
There it was again, the banter. She met him exactly at his level, hitting him playfully where he would never expect it. There was a lightness in her words that made him nearly believe her. König could not help but grin to himself while pressing her slightly closer.
“Any idea about the sacrifice?” She asked while leaning into him to cover his massive frame with what was left of the blanket. A cute but pointless gesture.
“I have some ideas,” König resigned. “But there is no way to be sure it is working and I doubt you want to test it.”
She shivered.
“No.” Her voice was thin and frail, hitting him with guilt.
“I think I need to ask my brothers for help.” König continued. ”But I'm not sure that is wise. It could be dangerous.”
She nodded. “I suppose dealing with family can be like that sometimes.”
König stilled, thinking about her words and listening to the drumming sound of the rain.
“Hmm, I suppose you know a lot about that,” He hummed and paused before daring to speak again. “May I ask … are you angry at your family? For marrying you off to me?”
It was as if he was asking the bravest question of all.
She shifted around.
“Sometimes,” She admitted. “It’s hard because till this day I love my family. But to be fair, marrying me off to a stranger was just the last thing of a long line of things that weren’t as well thought through or kind as they might have told themselves. Who knows. They are dead now and I am here. Could be worse.”
He nodded, trying not to feel too much about her words. Marrying him was bearable. König hardly blamed her. Still, it hurt more than he had expected. Was that pain another sacrifice?
“Could be worse.” He repeated flatly.
“Well now you make it sound bad. That’s not what I meant.” She muzzled into him as if she truly wanted to be there.
König closed his eyes, reminding himself not to lie to himself. This was just a practical arrangement for her. For him.
He cleared his throat.
“So, what do you think we should do?” The Vodyanoy changed the subject. “One brother you already know of is Simon. We used to be close but something happened and since then he is like a ghost of himself, moody and withdrawn but capable of kind and terrible things at the same time. It’s hard to know with him. He never formally claimed his kingdom, but everybody knows not to cross the master of the forest, the Leshy.”
The forest turned silent as if knowing that König talked about its master.
“What are the things that make him dangerous to be around?” Her voice was so little in the woodland's silence, so brave to speak.
König swallowed, remembering his days with his brother. They were long gone, lost in a sea of blood.
“Simon taught me how to kill.”
The forest stayed silent, as if trying not to breathe like an animal of prey sensing a possible predator.
“Oh.” Brave like a single flame in the dark she whispered into the night, breaking the silence, and releasing the forest from the dark grip of its master.
“I have other brothers but the one who could help is the deathless one - Koschei, the master of bones and battlefields. Nowadays he goes by the name Graves.”
“Charming. Leaves little to the imagination why he could be dangerous.”
He grunted in agreement.
“That’s quite a family I am marrying into.” The bride paused. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Scared?”
She shrugged.
“Only a fool would not fear a brother-in-law who is called deathless or for whom the forest dies down.”
Brave one.
“You do not have to marry me and into this family. You know that, right my Bride?” It felt right to say it and offer her a way out from the terror that was his presence.
She stared into the cold wet forest, unmoving and expressionless.
König wished he knew what she truly thought of right now.
“Do you not want me as your bride?” She asked finally with a flat voice.
Her lips singing the siren song. What does marriage even mean at this point?
“I promised it, did I not?” He said instead.
She nodded, a stony expression on her face.
“So, we stick to it.”
“Aye.”
König felt tired. Like he had run out of words, keeping it short and safe instead of pouring out his heart and burdening her. If only he could rest, lay down next to her and close his eyes.
“You say Simon was here?” The Bride mused. “He was the one to point out the danger to me. If he knew how to get rid of it or wanted to help, he would have done it. But he did not. I don’t think we can count on him here. Which leaves…”
“Koschei.”
König felt the corners of his mouth drop down into a disapproving frown.
He knew she was right. Still…
“Maybe there is a safer, cleverer way to engage with him?” The Bride continued. “He is the Deathless. I am sure he might know something and maybe a simple letter or a messenger will be enough. What do you think?”
Still unhappy, König considered her idea. It was sound. Yet the mere thought of having to ask his brother for help and being in debt to him worried him more than he wanted to admit. Graves always had a thing for pretty girls. And for his Bride to draw the attention of Koschei the Deathless did not only feel like asking for disaster but evoked new fears in König.
What if Graves would like her and do as he had done with many girls before?
A new ugly thought roared its head up.
What if the Bride would prefer Graves over him?
“If i keep practising my writing I can write to him.” His dearest Bride added. “I could ask for his council as a bridal gift. What kind of man would refuse or violate that?”
König took a deep breath. He hated how right she was.
“I could work but-”
“Perfect. Let us do it soon.”
Her voice left him as little room to argue as there was left under the blanket between her and König.
“Fine.” He surrendered like driftwood to the currents.
Instead of pushing for more she just sighed herself, relaxing into him and staring into the dark.
She will just be my Queen. König thought to himself, surprised by his own possessiveness. As long as she is safe, it will be fine. No need to worry more than usual.
She was here, at his side and safe.
Nothing more than someone like him could expect or ask for.
He closed his eyes again to enjoy the feeling of the Bride so close to him before straightening up and concentrating on being on guard again.
She yawned, muzzling closer.
“I might fall asleep here.” She admitted. “Is that a problem?”
“Not at all, Bride.” König replied with a feeling he wasn’t familiar with, “I’ll be there.”
xxx
It felt ridiculous how much König loathed the thought of his Bride meeting Graves. He knew it was unfair, hating what his own insecurities and worries did to him. The Bride had suggested a plan and he was the one not sticking to it, that odd feeling in his stomach stopping him from teaching her how to write or write Graves himself. Instead, König could not help but make excuses.
It’s late…
I am busy right now…
Maybe tomorrow…
König told himself that his worries and reservations were justified. He was just cautious. It was Graves after all, the Deathless, the one called master of bones and battlegrounds. And the Bride was so fragile in comparison to all those monsters and men.
“Just talk to her, boy!” The moon nearly shouted down from its high place one night right before vanishing behind a cloud.
König only shook his head.
The Bride was his responsibility and it was his duty to protect her from the world. That was his sacrifice. It had to be the answer. But then doubt whispered again to him.
Not good enough, Graves will be better for her.
A day passed, a night, another day. The Half-Palace was shaping up and König was dreading to be finished. He would bring her home then, far away from all those who were out for her blood.
But then she would be alone - with him.
Suddenly the axe was looking tiny in his hands, just a simple twig in clawed fingers made to rip and tear and drown.
He felt stuck - he was the reason for her troubles but also the key to her safety. He wanted to keep away but then how was he supposed to guard her? He wanted to marry her and be done with it. But what did marriage even mean for him? For her? Was it the delight in her presence he felt? The excitement of just talking to her? The secret longing to take her deep into the waters and embrace her with everything minor that he was, feeling her bare skin and tangled limbs and bubbles of air escaping her moaning lips and reminding him it would be the death of her.
Confusion dripped more into his tired and worn mind.
He was scared of himself and what he was capable of doing.
But no one could understand what he was anyway.
And so König kept it to himself.
That night he was alone. The Fox had gone home. He had young to play with tonight, he had said, and König had only nodded.
Yeah, yeah, sure, I understand.
Lada and all the other Rusalki left for some rest in the ponds, and rivers and lakes.
Deep down König knew that he needed some break as well.
But he was afraid of leaving the Bride alone or staying alone in the house with her. He was a danger too after all.
Defeated, he sat on his regular spot next to the door, gazing through the garden and hoping for nothing and something to happen at the same time.
The axe in his hand had started to rust a bit from all the blood it had spilled. A long time ago it had been a gift from his brother Simon, back when they were close.
“It does not have to be this painful, you know?”
König looked up, searching for the source of the voice. The garden with its tidy strawberry patches and attempts of growing buckwheat and sunflowers was as untrodden as it had been the last time he made his rounds.
“Still up here, little king.”
König looked up and the thin crescent of the waning moon smiled down softly at him.
König leaned back against the wall of the house.
“What do you want, Moon? I am tired. I don’t need a lecture or getting shouted at again.”
The grand luminary of the night sky stayed silent. König wondered if that was all then and prepared to get up again for another patrol round.
“I am sorry. I should not have done that.”
The Vodyanoy blinked in surprise.
“Is the mighty Moon apologising? To me?”
“Don’t make this harder than it is, little king.”
König crossed his arms but nodded.
“Fine. Your apology is welcome. What do you want, Moon?”
“I just want peace between us. Of all your brothers and the old beings walking this earth I feel the closest you. The waters and I… There is some magic working between us and I felt responsible to say something but I overstepped. That is not how good-”, the moon paused, “Neighbours, let’s say neighbours are supposed to be.”
König huffed.
“You are a creepy neighbour, you know that?”
Moon in its interstellar ways giggled.
“I am the watcher in the night. What else did you expect?”
“Maybe, but I don’t have to like it.”
The moon kept smiling.
“If you ever have children I will watch them and keep them safe just like I watch you and just like I watch your Bride.”
“I don’t trust that. And I doubt I will ever have children.”
“Who knows. That’s not up to me.”
They stayed silent.
Nervously, König grinded his teeth and considered what he had heard.
“You watch her too?”
“Yes.”
“Is she okay? Clearly all of this must get to her. And the arranged marriage…”
“Little King”, the moon whispered near softly, “Isn’t that something you should ask her yourself? Be brave. Talk to her.”
“You keep pushing me to talk to her!” König cried out in frustration. “Why? It wouldn't matter anyway! There is nothing to say. Our marriage is just a facade. I am the one most likely to harm her and there is nothing I could say or do to remedy that.”
The anger of the past months, bottled up and pushed down, made their way out of König. Like a hurt animal he howled his words up to the moon.
He jumped up. The axe was ready swinging in his hands, clawed and ready.
If he could, König would have picked a fight with whoever crossed his path just for the sake of it. But there was just the moon - cold and far away.
He screamed in anger.
“I do everything! And it’s not enough. I AM NOT ENOUGH!” König stalked around the grass and felt his anger dissipate with every step getting heavier and heavier.
“I am not enough.” He repeated with finality and came to a halt. “And I never will be.”
It was silent.
Conscious about his outbreak he looked around. Not a leaf dared to move around him. Ashamed he fell into the grass and covered his face.
“I am sorry. It was too much.” König mumbled as he tried to catch his breath and fight the tears. “I am not like that normally.”
“I know, König. It’s okay.”
The moon's words felt like the last push. König cried. He did not know why. Some of it he understood. But a lot were just tears he had to shed years, months, nights ago and now he did not know why he cried.
Heaving for air in between his sobs, König hears the moon's soft words.
“Oh it’s okay, König. It’s fine, little king. It’s fine…”
He was the water and the water him. Köng’s tears flowed endlessly until he was done and only a tired void was left in him.
He looked up to the moon, staring down at him. The soft smiling crescent unchanging and familiar, surrounded by a countless number of stars shining down at him.
“I am sorry for … this.” König started.
“No.” the moon interrupted. “Don’t you dare to apologise for crying. I mean it. It’s okay. Next time, just leave the axe out of it, okay?”
König looked at the axe a bit off in the grass. He had let go of it at some point, feeling like failure again - even in his sadness he was intimidating.
Vodyanoy nodded.
“Listen König, may I say something?”
Another nod.
“You breaking down like that was inevitable. Don’t torture yourself like that. You don’t need to carry it all alone. And I guarantee your the Bride would be the first to listen to you.”
A tired smile made its way up to Königs lips. “There it is again - you want me to talk to her. But she is so fragile. She can never do what I can. What’s the point?”
“You build her up in your mind as mighty as that castle of yours. She is the most fragile, the most worthy, clever and beautiful - don’t deny it. I watched you yearn for her for too long. But she is just a person and not your dream of her. And all your sacrifices are great but the one that truly matters you did not give.”
“Which one?”
“Honesty - with her, with you. You two need to talk with one another instead of silently offering yourselves up. She is not as weak as you make her out to be. And you, little king, are not always strong. It’s painful to watch.”
Defeated but not yet passive, König tried to reason. “You don’t understand. Besides, what is there to talk about?”
“That you care about her maybe? And that you care so much, that’s close to twisting into a mindless adoration suffocating both of you. Let her be strong and be to you what you are for her instead of sheltering and keeping her away. She is an ocean worth discovering, not a cup of water that needs to be kept out of the sun to not evaporate.”
König looked down at his hands. The same claws as always.
“Don’t start that again, boy. Get up, knock at her door and ask if you can sleep there. And tomorrow you can talk.”
Slowly, König eyed her door.
Disturb her? Be a burden to the one he wants to keep all burdens away from?
“Be brave, little king.”
The moon was wrong. Nothing could be fixed with talking. But what if the moon was right?
The door drew him in like nothing before.
And he was so tired.
König got up, collected his axe and stepped forward.
Should he really do it? The moon stayed silent, waiting for König to walk to the door and knock.
He took a deep breath, wiped his hand over his face and stepped forward.
This was it. It felt like the bravest, hardest thing he had ever done.
He knocked.
Cultural context
Tschort (literal translation: devil) can be both a plural and singular. It can be translated as demon or devil. But that only captures the word in its Christian context and not its presence in mostly in pagan traditions in folk and fairy tales. It’s easiest to understand a tschort as a type of evil or at least ill-meaning supernatural male being.
A kikimora is a bad female house spirit known for haunting dreams or generally the household. I know her as an entity that drives humans insane by whispering, stealing eggs, spinning spider webs and confusing her targets but there are other tales about her in which she has other abilities. There are proposed links between the Kikimora and the ancient Greek Moiren, the Germanic Nornen, and obviously the old Slavic goddess Mokosh. Funnily enough in the game “The Witcher 3” the kikimora is a type of giant spider.
Erle / alder is a very important tree in central European folklore and especially German speaking folk. Alder trees are part of the birch tree family, making them very resistant trees. The alder grows on very humid soil, often appearing close to bodies of water or moorlands. Since moors were associated with the dead, alders were considered a bit spooky. Alder trees ‘bleed’ a reddish liquid when being cut, adding to their spooky association. There are several rites around alder and alder twigs. The Erlenkönig or Alder king is a very famous German poem about an elven king trying to seduce a sick child to come and live with him. A german – English translation can be found here https://www.ogn.ox.ac.uk/sites/default/files/bellcogo2015.pdf All in all the alder tree is just a cool spooky tree with plenty of pagan-Christian connotations around it.
There are a few stories about the moon and as far as I am concerned, they all coexist in a semi plausible way. In the 1964 soviet, kids’ movie ‘Морозко’ the sun does not rise out of kindness to give the protagonist time to finish her nightly chores. The man on the moon or the moon face is a story drawing from German speaking tradition that the moon is a single wanderer watching out for those that cannot sleep or work late at night. It’s a kind presence and there are lullabies for kids about the nice man on the moon guarding them. Also, the moon as the cause of ebb and flood would be of interest to a water being like the Vodyanoy even though many Slavic folk traditions come from landlocked places therefore not noticeably experiencing the tides. At last, the moon is a way of keeping track of time, not just for eastern or central Europeans.
The Rusalkas name is Lada. Lada is a name used till this day. The origin of it is interesting. There are conflicting theories about ‘Lada’ being a possible Slavic goddess of marriage, fertility, love, spring and much more. Since primary sources on beliefs before Christianity in eastern Europe are basically non-existent, I would be careful with set ideas about the goddess Lada. The word лада appears to have further linguistic roots and connotations in old eastern Slavic and modern spoken Slavic languages like significant other, fret, lover, maiden, husband, etc. However, my Russian is far from good enough to get into this and I also don’t speak any other languages from this region. So please be mindful of that. If someone feels like educating me here, I would be very interested in learning more.
Little reminder – Rusalkis are something akin to mermaids or nymphs. They are loaded in symbolism as being promiscuous but also connected with children and childbirth, playful but also dangerous as they kill and drown those who harm them, spinning and washing clothes but also leisure, very much alive but also connected to suicide by drowning. In the stories I am familiar with, Rusalkis can leave the water if they want to, however there are stories where they don’t. Since Rusalkis are a staple in a lot of eastern European folk traditions, there is no one set idea what the right Rusalka is.
Koschei / Коще́й in Russian is the recurring male bad person in at least Russian Slavic folklore. Koschei is also called the immortal or the deathless. The name Koschei translated literally can mean something along the lines as the one of bones. Supposedly he is unkillable because he keeps his soul or heart secured in a separate place than his body. Often that is an egg which is placed in other animals which are guarded. Stories about Koschei tend to place him as the antagonist or love rival. Koschei is supposed to be rich and likes gold. He tends to kidnap, enchant, or marry unwilling young beautiful women (which require rescue of course). He is a sorcerer. Often, he is named as head of a castle or larger hall which indicates a ruler position. This is stressed with many tales naming him tsar / царь / ‘king’. There are links between Koschei and the other classical bad girl in Slavic folklore – Baba Yaga. That is symbolised by helping each other or being related somehow. However, they rarely appear together.
Addition by 'Uroo7kuro0': "Кощей" can come not only from the word "кость"/"bone". Also perhaps he's the prototype of another god whose name is "Карачун"/"Karachun" who was in charge of the cold. Interesting fact in some fairy tales Koschei and Baba Yaga were equally negative characters, while in others Baba Yaga helped the main characters kill Koschei
Devitsa is a transliteration from the word ‘девица’. It’s not well translatable but means something along the lines of maiden, mistress, damsel, maid or lady. Here, it is used like an honour title but like all honour titles the word Devitsa can and is used ironically. Nowadays in spoken contexts
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thank you for monster handler part 5! I love ghost ruffling soaps hair so much :3 and how to deal with kids when parents divorce? hilarious
can I pls request part 6?
Of course! Also, did you guys know this was originally PriceGhost? They were never endgame, but they were there
Soap saw Ghost's hands later and frowned. They were bandaged, clearly done by himself.
Had he missed something while he was checking him? Now that he was thinking about it, he hadn't made Ghost remove his gloves. He had been moving around a lot.
Soap felt like an idiot. The bandages were clumsy and he wondered if Ghost wasn't good at it or if it was the claws making it hard to do. He reached over without thinking and started to fix them.
Ghost's skin felt so cold without his gloves. Soap wondered idly if all of his skin was that cold. It explained why he wore so many layers.
Neither said anything else about it, but he saw now that the knuckles were busted. "What happened?"
"Got in a fight with a punching bag. I won." Ghost's wings made a small twitch. Soap pretended to not notice they were not nearly as tightly tied as they should be.
"Next time, you can come to me."
"That would be giving you what you want."
Soap glared at him, noticing how close they were to each other. "Come on, Ghost."
Ghost stared at him. Soap found them hypnotizing. He remembered one of the recruits on their first mission had referred to them as empty. Soulless caverns. Soap had no idea what he was talking about. There was so much there. Multitudes. They were such a pretty brown too.
"Ghost."
"I will… come to you next time." He sounded very soft. Not soft like a teddy bear, soft like a fresh wound. Put too much pressure and it'll tear.
Soap nodded. "Good." He felt a small flash of pride that he had managed this tiny bit of trust. "Do you want me to make you a cup of tea?" Ghost was British. It was smart, he could lure him in.
"Okay." Ghost watched him the entire time. Mostly likely to check he made it right. Regardless, Soap made it and handed it to him. Ghost did this funny thing where he held the cup and let the heat soak into his fingers. Since he had bandages, his gloves weren't on, so Soap could see the gentle way he pressed closer, like a snake sneaking warmth.
Soap watched him while he fixed himself a cup of coffee. He sat with him again, hoping this could be something they did. Maybe they could get matching mugs.
Ghost looked… not peaceful. Hard to say a man looked peaceful when you couldn't see the majority of his face. But his eyes were closed and he didn't look stressed.
There were lines along his cheeks and around his chin. Probably from where he had to wear the muzzle during meetings. They didn't look too deep, but they were right over his Glasgow scars and Soap internally winced.
"You're staring."
"Sorry." Soap muttered.
"You get why I wear the mask right? Not exactly pretty. Monstrous." Ghost smiled, but it was… sad. Clearly it was something Ghost was sensitive about.
Soap frowned, trying to think of what to say. Ghost looked human there. The skin he saw was the same color as the skin around his eyes. He saw, right at the edges of his shirt, that the skin started to streak with the telltale inky black that likely led to his wings and his hands. Personally, he did think Ghost was beautiful. Ethereal, unearthly. But that wasn't what Ghost wanted. Ghost wanted to be human.
"You look like a regular British bloke. Don't know what you're talking about." Soap sipped his coffee.
Ghost paused and stared at him. Soap didn’t acknowledge it.
Eventually, Ghost disappeared.
That was fine since it gave Soap an opportunity to talk to Price. He went to his office and closed the door.
“I have some questions.”
Price nodded. “What’s going on, Soap?”
“So Ghost.” Soap got comfortable. “His care. I don’t… think I’ve been doing it very well. After missions, he gets… weird. Jittery and tense. He almost jumped out of his skin when I tried to talk to him. Scared the shit out of everyone around him too. I was wondering if you did anything to help?”
Price stared at him for a moment, as if checking something before nodding. “You need to wear him out. It’s the adrenaline. Its hard for him to come down from him so he needs an outlet.”
“He apparently went training afterward. Does stuff like that normally work?”
“Yeah, that’s good. Just be there for him when he crashes. He always does and he always does crashes hard. I find being quiet with him helps.”
Soap started to write these things down. “Good. Good. What else?”
“Soap, you read the file.”
“Yes and the file is lacking. It’s a bunch of rules. I’m supposed to take care of him. I want advice.”
Price sighed. “Fine. First, keep doing what you’re doing. You’re becoming faster friends with him than anyone else I’ve seen. Second, treat him like a giant cat.”
Soap frowned. “Explain.”
“You can’t push too hard. Let him come to you. I’m sure you’ve noticed if you hang around for a while, he appears right? Always acting as if he just happened to be in the same room.”
Now that Price had pointed that out… It wasn’t uncommon for Soap to be in the bases free areas such as the lounge or the mess hall and Ghost happened to be across the room. Ghost never acted like he was paying attention to him so he hadn’t really put it together.
“Third, he likes the base of his wings scratched. Save that. Don’t use it too early. If he turns his back to you and you’re alone, try it. “
Soap felt like he learned forbidden knowledge. He couldn’t wait to try it. “His… ear thingies. What are those?”
“Feathers. They aren’t actually ears at all. We think Roba was trying to emulate a horned owl with them.” Price sighed. “Also, he won’t admit it. Roba used to keep bright lights on him. He’s sensitive to him. If you want to show you care, dim the lights for him.”
Soap thought of all the bright harsh leds in the base. Yikes. His room would probably be hellish for Ghost.
Not that Ghost would be in his room.
“Alright, now what exactly did you do to wear him out? Laps? Sparring?”
“We fucked.”
Soap paused, waiting for the laughter.
There was none.
“What.”
“We had sex. It was the only thing that worked for a while.” Price stared at him. “He initiated. I just… I don’t want you to think I took advantage of him.”
Soap stared for a while longer. “Oh… Should I…”
Price laughed. Ouch. “He’ll eat you alive if you tried. It’s part of the thing I mentioned. If he initiates, that on him.”
Soap decided this was too much information. Far, far too much. “Okay… I’m… i’m gonna…” He left without another word.
He ended up going to the training room.
Ghost didn’t appear.
Soap felt disappointed. He wasn't sure why, but he did.
That was... such an odd thing to think about. Did Ghost think that's what he was going to do that day?
Soap groaned. He had told the man to strip. No wonder Ghost had look so alarmed. Had he thought Soap would just jump him?
No. Soap would...
Ghost's dark brown eyes popped into his head.
Wouldn't...
The way he moved so flawlessly. The dorky tattoos.
This was just because of what Price said I mean really...
"Johnny."
Soap jumped and whipped around to look up at Ghost. "Oh... hey... buddy."
