Scarlett's Library

It was no mystery why Camilla would think you had died. You were certain you were dead too when those spirits caught you. You could still hear Camilla's scream at the entrance when the spirits froze your feet, making you unable to move. You could still remember reaching out to her hand before the ice froze your whole body and your mind got taken by the cold darkness. 

A tear fell from your eye when you thought about your friend. If it's been sixty years, then there was a high chance that Camilla had already passed away from old age. You doubt she could have survived as a ninety-year-old granny when Beleriand was in a state like this. She was smart and resourceful, but even she had limits. Not to mention, her family had some genetic illnesses that should act up during old age. 

You took a deep breath… trying to prevent yourself from breaking down in tears. 

You wonder how Maglor reacted to your supposed death. There was no doubt that he would have been devastated. After seven years of a happy relationship, you suddenly die of sudden circumstances. That would definitely have a negative effect on him. Could your death have taken a part in his spiraling to such a path? 

How would he think if he knew you were still alive? 

You shook your head and tried to stop thinking. You first need to ensure that the things you have heard about him are true. If anyone knew better what happened in Doriath– it would be Melui. In the meantime, you will also believe Camilla might still be alive, living in a lone cottage with a hundred cats, or something, until you learn more about her fate. 

After cleaning yourself, you arrive at the kitchen area, drying your hair with a towel and wearing borrowed clothes. Melui was preparing dinner and two vials of familiar-looking liquid sat on the table. 

Melui's home was big and rather nice. The kitchen area was attached to a large living room on the left while a set of stairs were on the right, leading to upstairs where bedrooms were located. The design of the walls and the colors were rather calm and different than what you were used to seeing in Himring. The house was empty since Melui’s family was away and Melui had stayed behind to watch over it. 

"Hey, (Name). How was the bath? Good I hope," Melui questioned after setting a pot on the table. You looked in and smelled something delicious, fish soup perhaps? 

"Yeah. It was good since it has been sixty years since the last time I took a bath," you said, making Melui release a chuckle. "You sure your sister doesn't mind me using her clothes?" you questioned as you adjusted the blouse and the dress. "It's fine. Those are pretty old so I doubt she even remembers having them," Melui said as you took the vials and drank the content. 

You grinched at the taste after drinking them both. "I never get used to this taste. Thank you for making them for me. The beast has been silent but I do not want to take any risks," you said and set the vials back down on the table.

"It's alright. I'm happy to help you with anything," Melui replied.

"Thanks... good to know you're still around at least. I don't know where I would be if you didn't find me," You smiled. Melui returned the smile. "Come on. I prepared some dinner and perhaps you can tell me in detail how you survived sixty years unchanged," he said and you both sat at the table to eat dinner. 

The dinner went smoothly even though you weren't a big fan of fish food. Melui had somehow made them taste delicious. You explained from the beginning how you and Camilla went to look for a rare herb in the cave and how you got attacked by the spirits, resulting in you freezing and somehow surviving until something broke you out. You even told him your theory of how you could have survived. 

"If my memory serves me correctly, I believe those spirits you described were Frost wraiths, spirits of the dead that had died under freezing conditions yet couldn't move on due to their hate," Melui explained. "They trap those who end up lost in their territory in ice and feed from the warmth of their souls until there's nothing left," he added.

"Sounds accurate, but I don't feel any different in my soul. How come they haven't eaten mine?" you asked while buttering your bread. "Your curse could be the reason. The beast is supposed to be affiliated with winter, right? So, perhaps it made your soul too cold for them to eat," Melui suggested.

"Maybe... but that doesn't explain the warm sensation I felt before I broke through the ice," you said. 

"Perhaps that necklace of yours could be the reason. Is that a dwarven rune you're wearing?" Melui pointed at the silver amulet resting against your chest.

"Oh, this?" you took hold of the amulet. "It... was a gift from an old dwarf who lived in Himring. It has some runes carved into it and is warm to the touch," you explained as the metal amulet warmed your fingers.

"Interesting-- I heard some dwarven runes may hold some hidden spells. Maybe that rune helped you break out from that ice," Melui stated.

"I doubt that. If it really worked like that then maybe it would have broken me out years ago," You chuckled and looked at him seriously, nearly worried to ask what you were going to ask of him. 

"Melui. I heard some things about Doriath and my lover, Maglor. I told you about him in my letters," you started and Melui nodded silently.

"I heard... he had committed terrible things and I want to know if they are true," you explained. "Were you still in Doriath when the kin slaying happened?" you asked carefully. 

Melui was quiet before looking at you. "Unfortunately yes," he answered. You stared at him before continuing. "So... all things of him and his brothers committing it are true?" you asked. "I'm afraid so..." Melui murmured quietly.

"I did not see your lover when it happened, but I did see how his brothers and their people came and started killing the people of Menegroth," Melui started. "They mostly kept their attention on those who willingly fought back, but then they started killing those who tried to run away," he explained. "I saw how the blonde one of the Feanorians fought the young king Dior in a deadly combat. They ended up killing each other. His wife perished in the attack and from what I have heard they left their twin sons to die alone in the forest. It was middle of winter as well," he explained and you nearly teared up at the thought of two young kids alone in the cold.  

"It was horrible," Melui nearly sniffed in tears. "And just when I and Nelle became engaged," he revealed and you felt light-hearted for a moment. 

"Oh, congrats. Is Nelle still around?" you asked. "No..." Melui shook his head and your smile dropped. 

"She was killed by one of the Noldor when she tried to defend one of the injured. It was not in her nature to harm anyone, so she didn't even try to fight them yet they still killed her. A sword through the abdomen," he explained. Your heart ached painfully when you saw his rather empty expression.

"I'm so sorry, Melui," you uttered.

He shook his head. "Don't be. It's been years now. I had family members to care for so I learned to heal from the sorrow," he explained. "And if Eru and the Valars are kind to us then perhaps I will see her again in the Blessed realm once my time to sail there has come," he said and took a drink from his glass. 

"I know it is not my right to tell you what to do next, but I advise you not to go to see your lover. He not the same elf you loved sixty years ago," Melui stated.

"Where is he and his brothers now?" you questioned.

"Last time I heard, they relocated to Amon Ereb," Melui answered. "It is not too far from here, perhaps a day's travel if you go on a horse," he continued. "I do not know what would happen if you go to him. I'm afraid you might receive an unpleasant reaction," he looked at you seriously.

"I get it... I think… I will concern myself with getting the necessary ingredients for my proper medicine. I don't think this would be the best time to show myself either," you said. Melui looked at you sympathetically. 

"I'm sorry things are like this," Melui said. "It's okay... I didn't expect much good when I first walked out of that cave and saw the world it is now," you reassured.

"If it's any comfort. I am willing to help you find the ingredients for the medicine," Melui said.

"Really? That would help a lot," you smiled.

"Of course, you're my friend. Just tell me what you need and I see what I can do," he said. 

"Well, the list is a bit long. I think we can find most of the ingredients in the city, but the Moonflowers are the most important," you said.

"Moonflowers? I do not think we can find any of them here, but I heard they are quite common at the Mouth of Sirion," Melui answered. "It will be a long travel thought," he added.

"That's fine by me. I can make the travel if I get a horse and some supplies to get there," you said.

"You can borrow one of my family horses, but are you certain you are willing to go back there?" Melui asked.

You smiled at him. "I will be fine. I did survive sixty years in ice and the trip here," you remarked, causing Melui to chuckle.

"I nearly envy your determination. Alright— Moonflowers grow in the nearby forest in Sirion, but there is also the Havens of Sirion. It is a city made up of refugees from Gondolin and Doriath. I have been there once. If you can't find any Moonflowers in the forest, you can go there and ask the people. They are helpful for those in need," Melui explained. "Nice," you nodded.

“Now let us eat. It will be a long day tomorrow,” Melui said and you two finished dining before retreating to the beds. 

The bed felt comfortable beneath you. However, you were not able to find sleep due to your mind being filled with thoughts on everything you had heard. Morgoth had taken over the world, you have survived living sixty years in ice, and now, Maglor and his brothers had gone down the path to commit horrid war crimes. It was a lot to handle, and you were not certain what to make of it. 

You nearly wanted to believe it was just a really bad dream. 

You brushed those thoughts away and closed your eyes. There was no use thinking and feeling sad about it. You needed strength for tomorrow to find the Moonflowers for your medicine. Maglor and everything can wait for later, even though your heart aches over everything that has happened. 

The morning graced the city. You were grateful to hear normal sounds such as birds singing in the nearby trees and the sounds of vendors as they opened their shops for the day. You would listen to them over the sounds you had heard lurking in the dark outside the city. 

You were patiently waiting at Melui's doorway, dressed in proper clothes for traveling and carrying bags for food and necessary items to collect herbs. You felt nervous to go alone but were confident you would be fine after memorizing the map and paths fully and prepared to deal with any situation possible. Technically, this was your first time traveling without Camilla. She never really trusted you to go alone without getting into some sort of trouble, especially since the incidents where you got accidentally separated. In your defense, you were in a difficult spot during those times and didn’t have the medicine to stop the beast from taking control of your body. 

However, this time you were not at the risk of losing control, so there was a high chance for you to avoid any trouble you might encounter on your way.

Melui approached you with a saddled white horse. You stood up, ready to leave for your trip. 

"This is Seastar. She has mostly been used for pulling wagons and carriages, but she's used to traveling alone with a rider. She will get you where you need to be," Melui handed the reins to you. You petted the horse, who seemed accepting of your attention. "Thank you. I'll make sure I bring her back safely," you said and climbed on the horse. You carefully handled the reins and then looked down at Melui. 

"Be careful... something unexpected might happen and I do not want to see you hurt," Melui uttered with worry in his eyes. 

"I know... but I am certain I can handle it. And to be fair a lot of unexpected things happen when I'm around, so it wouldn't be the first time" you said, making him shake his head with a smile. 

"Go now while you still have sunlight," he said. 

"Yeah, I might end up spending the night somewhere, so don't panic if I don't return," you stated.  "Okay, see you later. Take care,"

"Take care," Melui replied as you clicked your heels and rode away, eventually leaving the city. 

You rode through the safe path out of the city, into the wide lands that had not yet been infected with Morgoth's influence. It felt nice feeling the clean air brush against your face as you continued galloping. You made sure to take breaks and check on the map while letting Seastar drink before continuing your journey toward your destination, the Havens of Sirion. 

The sun had begun to settle when you finally arrived in the forest. You could hear the ocean in the distance and the air was chilly. It's been a long time since you've seen the sea or visited any beaches. Once you find the Moonflowers, maybe you could check the city after all.

You jumped down from Seastar. The forest looked too thick for her to get through. Uttering words in elvish, you told her to stay put and walked toward the forest, letting the white mare eat grass while waiting. 

The forest was thick, full of moss, and moist ground. Most likely due to being near the great river and the sea. Crows and Owls were hooting in the trees as it became rather dark for you to see. You checked the caverns and rocks, but no luck so far until you reached the last cave and noticed something glowing inside. 

You jumped over the fallen logs and saw white flowers growing on the cavern wall, glowing brightly as the moon in the sky. A victorious grin dressed your face as you took out a small sickle to cut them out. Your luck was finally looking up. 

You cut down a few of the Moonflowers and even a few with a seedling so you can grow them yourself. There were quite a lot of them. The place must have been fertile with light and songs for them to grow so many. 

After picking enough, you strapped the sickle back on your bag and prepared to leave until a strong smell of smoke filled your nostrils. Confused, you sniffed the air and then looked up to the sky, finding rising smoke pillars coming from where the city of the refugees should be. A deep worry settled within you while you stared at the smoke in the sky. Was the city being attacked? 

The scent of blood suddenly invaded your nose. You shut your mouth as you nearly gagged from the intensity of the smell, which confirmed your suspicions. The city was being attacked and it was a total bloodbath. It explained why you didn't encounter any patrols on your way even though Melui said the people of the haven were very guarded. 

Your ears heard something and from the corner of your eye, you saw a small shadow coming at you with a knife. 

"Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow! Wow!" You stopped the child just in time before they could stab you with the knife. The child backed away still holding the knife toward you with terror in his eyes. "Easy! easy—! I'm not here to hurt you!" You held your hands up while staring back at the little elven boy. Your eyes then noticed another child, hiding behind a rock in the cave, he looked exactly like the child in front of you, so they must be twins. 

Worry peaked within you as you stared at them. They had blood on their clothes and didn't look older than a 6-year-old. Your mind quickly pieced the pieces and you concluded the boys must have escaped from the city during the attack. 

"Hey, it's okay," you kneeled, trying to make yourself look less threatening to them. "(I am a friend. You're safe)" you spoke in elvish, hoping it would calm them down. The boy in front of you seemed to calm down, cautiously keeping his weapon close to him and staring at you wearily. 

"What are you two doing here? What has happened?" you softly asked as the other boy slowly emerged from his hiding place. 

"You... you are not one of the bad elves?" He asked. His voice nearly came out like a whisper. 

You looked at him confused. "No. I'm a human actually," you pulled back your hood, revealing your ears for them to see. They seemed to calm more. "My name is (Name). Who are these bad elves you are talking about?" you asked. 

The elf boy began to cry. "They came out of nowhere and began hurting people..." he sobbed. "We came here to hide to wait for Naneth, but..." he sniffed. "I think they have hurt Naneth too!" he said and his brother began to sob too. Your heart painfully ached for them and a sense of protectiveness overtook you. 

"Hey..." you caught the crying boy’s attention. 

"It's okay. What's your name?" you asked. "El...Elrond," he said and you then look at his brother. "And what's yours?" you asked. "Elros," he answered, rather angrily. 

"Okay, Elrond, Elros, do you possibly know why these bad elves decided to hurt your people and Naneth?" you asked, having a bad feeling over the situation. 

"Naneth… she said they came because they wanted the stone in her necklace," Elrond answered. "A stone? As in... a silmaril?" you questioned. Elrond nodded. "That's what Naneth and Ada called the stone," he answered. 

You felt frozen for a moment. So the bad elves were Maglor and his brothers? They had committed another kin slaying for the silmaril? 

"Fuck—" you silently uttered and then you all heard a loud snap in the forest. Elros and Elrond automatically panicked. "They're coming!" Elrond said fearfully. You carefully glanced over the rock and saw elves in familiar Noldor armor coming toward you. 

"Quickly! Come with me!" you looked toward the twins. 

The Noldor soldiers came to the gave and investigated it. You and the twins were hiding behind some bushes, you listened to them talk and felt sweat forming on your skin. They were looking for the twins. 

You glanced at the twins hiding by your side. Elros looked angry and ready to fight, while Elrond sobbed silently, terrified of the situation. You couldn't bring yourself to leave them at the mercy of the Noldor soldiers, not after hearing what they had done to the last pair of twins Melui mentioned.

Your eyes quickly scanned for a route back to your horse then you grabbed a small rock off the ground. The twins looked at you carefully as you quickly tossed the rock in the opposite direction. The sound of the rock hitting something caught the elves’ attention and they quickly left to investigate the sound, taking the bait. 

"Come on!" you whispered, leading the twins out while the elves were distracted. Elrond clung to your hand as the three of you finally reached the edge of the forest and your horse.

You quickly picked them up one by one upon Seastars. "Okay. We're gonna go see a friend of mine. You will be safe and we will see if we can help you get back to any relatives," you explained after picking Elros on the saddle. 

Elrond's eyes widened as he looked behind you. "(Name)! Look out!" he shrieked as you felt a blade suddenly rest beside your neck. "You will remain still if you want to live," a familiar voice said and you slowly raised your hand in surrender. You remained deadly still and cursed within your mind. Shit, you really have a talent for getting into trouble when you're on your own. 

And you could recognize that voice anywhere. It was none other than Maglor, except his voice sounded more tired and less gentle than before. You now feared his reaction more than anything. 

"Turn around," Maglor commanded. "Leave her alone!" Elros snapped at him. "Elros. It's okay," you softly said. You took a deep breath before slowly turning around, avoiding making any sudden movement that could make Maglor slice your thought. 

You locked your eyes with him. His eyes nearly looked lifeless, most likely from the fight in the city and years of bad things happening all over, but when he locked his eyes with you— they were filled with shock. His hold on the sword began to waver and he backed away from you. 

"(Name)...?" he uttered as he stared at you like you were a ghost. 

What are you doing?

The rumbled words emerged from the shadows hemmed up in the corners of the bathroom more like a disinterested observation than a question.

“Would you care to take a guess?” you offered, opening your eyes and glancing towards the dimly lit silhouette having knelt in front of the door.

The warm, humid room was cramped and ill-suited for more than one person to occupy it at one time, but that fact didn’t seem to have stopped Khonshu from materializing at your side—likely in pursuit of tracking down your exact location since you weren’t in the living room or your bedroom like you usually were at this hour. It was a slow night in London, for once—the police channels had been quiet all evening, so you hadn’t felt the need to be prepared for the moon god’s urgent beck and call. Ru was winding down from school and homework with Lizzie watching her favorite baking show, and your portable speaker played music at the necessary volume to disguise your murmured responses to the lunar deity’s incredulity.

Bathing. In the dark. He tilted his skull. The electricity is not malfunctioning.

“It’s meant to be relaxing.” You raised a hand out of the steaming water to indicate the row of flickering candles lining the broad posterior lip of the tub flush against the wall. “And I can see perfectly well.”

He leaned forward, hands planted on his thighs not unlike a child, and you noticed that his staff was propped against the door frame. You are…self-soothing?

He must have picked up that term recently, as you’d definitely never heard him use it before. “Sort of. More like self-care. Liz offered to keep Ru entertained so I could get a breather until supper’s ready.”

Hmm. Khonshu sank back into his haunches. So you simmer yourself…and to what end?

You chuckled, pulling your legs up and folding your arms across the tops of your knees—modesty was a foreign concept to the ancient being, having associated with a culture that dwelled in the desert and thus rarely utilized complete coverings save to block the harshest of sunlight—and while you’d mostly grown accustomed to his penchant for invading your privacy at inopportune times, you didn’t particularly want to explain the entire premise to him with your chest on full display. “Hot water benefits the human body in many ways—relaxed muscles, improved moods, and the like—not to mention the positive effects of aromatherapy and inhalation of steam.”

Is that why you’re steeping a tea bag?

“It was a bathbomb wrapped in cloth with flowers and stuff in it—that’s why the water’s purple. It’s scented with lavender and chamomile. Smell it?”

How could I not? It has fumigated the entire room.

You shrugged. “At least it’s nice—better than BO, anyway.”

His shoulders scrunched in the only approximation of a frown you’d been able to determine. I see little point in any of this frivolity.

“Have you ever had a spa day, Khonshu?”

The inexpressive dimensions of his skull could not morph to adapt to his dripping dubiety, but it didn’t have to—his once uncanny stillness spoke enough to it.

“It’s nice,” you continued, ignoring his skeptical grunt. “With all those priests and priestesses fawning over you in your temples, I figured you’d have been pampered a time or two over the course of several thousand years.”

We were only allowed to interact directly with our avatars—we oftentimes utilized them as oracles, or spoke to the priesthood through statues, visions, dreams, or signs. Khonshu pushed his shoulders back. They would tend to our sculptures and reliefs as if they were our bodies, make offerings to them, enact rituals in our names, but…nothing quite like this.

“That’s a shame. I think a deep-tissue massage would do you a lot of good.” You reached for the exfoliator and the bar of soap and lathered up the perforated weave in order to scrub yourself so you’d at least look semi-productive. “Maybe some moisturization wouldn’t hurt…last time I saw your elbows, they looked crusty as hell.”

At first you thought you might actually have rendered him speechless, but you should have known better—another cursory peek in his direction revealed that he was merely observing.

I do recall a similar practice, he responded, tapering his beak down towards you, although it was generally utilized in preserving the khat of the mortals that journeyed west.

You rolled your eyes. “Of course. It wouldn’t offer you much of a vast improvement, then, huh? There’s not a whole lot I could do for a mummified bird.”

Khonshu scoffed, but said no more.

You began to wash your body in earnest, starting with your face, then moved down your neck, shoulders, arms, torso, pelvis, legs, and feet. You tried to reach around to tend to your back in the same way, but you winced as the action tugged at sore muscles beneath your shoulder blade—a scuffle with a carjacker the night before had resulted in him collapsed unconscious in the street, and you hadn’t trusted the police not to run him over in their haste to capture him (as well as a glimpse of you in their ever-persistent effort in pinning down the identity of their local do-gooder vigilante), so you’d had to drag him onto the sidewalk with…mixed results. The man had been big enough that he could have carried the car away with him, if the whim had so struck him, instead of hot-wiring it.

Allow me.

You startled as Khonshu’s hand curled over your arm to grasp the porous swatch of sudsy material. You watched, enraptured, as the gauze binding his flesh receded like sand slipping through an hourglass to reveal the pockmarked, ashen skin underneath—but you had only a glimpse before he withdrew with the stretched loofa.

Give me your back.

You twisted adjacent to the length of the tub and leaned forward obediently, deigning not to comment upon it. You supposed that wet wrappings wouldn’t be a pleasant sensation for anybody.

Khonshu imitated your earlier actions, although he was unexpectedly gentler. He dragged the loofa in rhythmic circles from the nape of your neck steadily down, from side to side, to the small of your back—then, to your continued surprise, he placed the fabric on your thigh before cupping his hands in the water and pouring it over your skin to wash away the suds. He then wiped away the rest, the roughened texture of his fingers softened by the soap and water, the pliability of your skin, although you noticed this touch lingered far longer.

You said nothing as he began to explore the typography of your spine and ribcage, seemingly subconsciously. To be such a hardass about almost everything, as well as an unforgiving sparring partner, you had almost forgotten how careful he could be. A foolish notion, really, as you were fully aware of how he treated Ru like porcelain on the verge of shattering—he always had. The methodicality of it lulled you into a trance-like state, your eyelids drooping as you leaned into both of his hands, now working in tandem to press and stroke the tension out of your muscles.

…When was the last time someone had touched you like this? You couldn’t recall. Your ex-husband hadn’t usually utilized this intimate a method of aftercare, even while you’d been trying for a baby. You’d been too busy with Ru and chores during the day to schedule an appointment, although you suspected that a deep-tissue would do you a world of good—Khonshu’s armor always healed your wounds if you wore it long enough, but it still often left you stiff if you’d hyperextended yourself during combat.

Khonshu dug the heel of his palm into that one incredibly tender catch under your shoulder blade. You sucked in a breath and winced, your entire back going rigid against the pain that lanced up into your neck. His displeased grunt was much closer to your ear than you’d anticipated, and you opened your eyes to glance up at him out of your periphery to see that he’d hunched over you.

You did not tell me that you were still in pain, he finally rumbled sternly. Why did you release the armor before you were healed?

“I am healed,” you told him, “just a little sore. It’s normal. I guess it doesn’t stitch everything back together exactly where it was before.”

He grumbled in refutation, but tapped his fingertips against the arch of your spine. Relax. It will only grow worse if you are tense.

“It’s not exactly—comfortable!” you squeaked, jerked forward to avoid the insistent digging of his fingers.

Of all the methods he could have used to steady you, reaching up and curling the length of his hand around the column of your throat was decidedly not what you would ever have expected. Your pulse leapt against the perfectly measured, unoppressive pressure he applied, and—in spite of the copious amount of heat flooding your face—you had to admit that it worked to keep you as still as a statue.

An inexplicable warmth—tingly like the slow creep of magic his armor provided to alleviate your wounds, but far more concentrated (and if you didn’t know any better, you’d have remarked that it almost felt like lidocaine)—wreathed his free hand as he began to knead the tightness out of the problem spot. You groaned softly as he did so, the vibration of the sound resonating through his hand and tickling your throat in turn, squeezing your eyes shut as you twitched on reflex to avoid the pain. Even with his magic’s numbing ability, the injury must have been worse than you’d initially anticipated because it swept right around the curve of your ribs and under—

“Hey!” you gasped, lurching away from those long, beguiling fingers as he followed the muscle to your torso and almost brushed the underside of your breast. This caused the blade of his palm to dig into your jugular, pitching your voice into a broken, if muffled, squeal. “Whoa, watch it—that’s off-limits!”

You’ve a rib out of place, he deadpanned.

“I could have my sacrum detached from my pelvic girdle, but that doesn’t mean I’d let you fondle my ass to fix it, either,” you hissed, trying to pull away, in vain.

Why must you be so stubborn? he groused, pressing his palm into your side directly over the rib in question. His soothing power sank into your body, and you had a hard time resisting the relief it brought. I had no intention of groping you.

You’d thought your face couldn’t grow any hotter, but you were promptly proven wrong. You told yourself that it was strictly the proximity of another person that was causing your uncontrollable reaction, that it had been years since the last time you’d been in such a compromising and vulnerable situation, not that it was Khonshu specifically. (You had always been shit at lying, even to yourself, admittedly.) “I, uh…sorry. Just…wasn’t expecting that.”

I did not mean to startle you. The curve of his beak descended over the slope of your opposite shoulder and the golden, emblematic crescent moon bound over his chest brushed against your back. …Just know that if I ever touched you in such a manner, there is no question that you would be anticipating it, Srit mwt.

You mouthed a curse and dropped your head as much as you could manage with him still holding you in place in hopes to hide your utter mortification. He should not have been having this effect on you. Khonshu was many things, but sexual was not a word you had mentally associated with him at any point.

You remembered, idly, that your research into his mythos had revealed that he was regarded as a god of fertility.

“Uh-huh,” you responded lamely, swallowing and surrendering to him just so that it would be over sooner. You’d planned on soaking for a while after washing up to enjoy the hot water, but now all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and scream into your pillow until your heart stopped drumming itself into a tattoo against the inside of your thoracic cavity.

Then the god of the moon had the the nerve—the fucking gall—to chuckle; a low, raspy noise that carried into your ribcage like a subwoofer ricocheted sound through a vehicle. You needn’t worry. I do not extend such invitations lightly…and I am not particularly inclined to commence anything that could not be completed.

Fuck. Honestly.

You were familiar with the banter the pair of you had shared over the years of serving as his avatar, but you’d never known him to…was he flirting with you, or were you imagining things? Surely not. He despised humans, humanity in general, thought himself above mere mortals to the point that he only associated with whomever he’d selected to be his Fist at any given time (as far as you were aware, anyway).

This was new. It was foreign and unexpected and completely out of character for him. Just when you’d thought you had pinned down his personality, he’d gone and revealed another aspect of himself—like a phase of the celestial body he represented. It didn’t make you uncomfortable, per se (quite the opposite, in fact, if you were to be totally honest with yourself; you’d made somewhat suggestive remarks to him in passing before, mostly for humor’s sake, but he’d never before responded in kind), but it was disarming you in a way for which you never could have prepared yourself.

He had seen you naked before—numerous times, in fact, much to your chagrin, since he couldn’t be bothered to at least knock on something before he appeared out of thin air—but he’d never acted like he’d even noticed your body, nor had he ever cared about the modern concept of modesty. You’d learned to live with it, had grown accustomed to him appearing at the most inopportune of moments. You’d just assumed that he might not even feel any attraction whatsoever, or at least not towards you.

Was that assumption incorrect? Had you misread his body language all this time? Was he just worryingly skilled at hiding any reactions he could have had? You hadn’t a clue—you didn’t know what to think, especially since you swore you could feel each individual crease on his cool, coarse palms against your heated flesh. He was a dominant entity, controlling out of necessity given the nature of his creed, but you’d never thought that it could carry over into a context quite like this.

…Of course, you’d never thought he’d offer to help you bathe, either, but here you were: naked, wet, and as vulnerable as one could be, trying very hard to hide exactly what he was doing to you simply by touching you comparatively chastely in sharp contrast to what the tone of his voice might have indicated.

You cleared your throat, realizing that you’d been quite a little too long. You could almost hear his smug grin—if he were even capable of displaying it in his primary, decayed shape. “...Thanks. For the…for the help. I feel a lot better now.”

Impatient, as always, he tutted. Just a moment.

“No, really, I’m good, you’ve worked your ma—gic!”

The sharp, high noise that escaped you as his hand compressed your rib and set it back in place with a dull click was worse than you could’ve imagined. Khonshu, mercifully, withdrew as quickly as he’d approached, leaving you reeling and dazed. You sucked in a breath, gritting your teeth against the urge to cringe, and probed your side experimentally.

There. That wasn’t so bad, now was it, hmm?

“If you weren’t a literal deity that could smite me from this plane of existence, I would offer you some very choice words on the quality of your bedside manner.”

That has never restricted you before. Khonshu’s spindly form creaked as he stood and straightened to his full height (or as close to it as was possible, given the bathroom’s low ceiling), leaving you shivering in the humid air he stirred in his wake. Although I doubt you will complain that I finished the job that you failed to allow the armor to finish.

“Well,” you started indignantly, “I guess I can count on you to finish everything I don’t, then, huh?”

A beat of silence passed, and that was arguably worse than anything he could’ve said in reply.

You dropped your head into your hands and groaned. “Forget I said that.”

He had the audacity to laugh at you. Should you ever require assistance, he crooned, all you need do is to call my name. I will hear you at any time or place.

You reached a hand back to deliver him a solitary finger, refraining from the urge to crawl into the drain and drown yourself. “I think I’ve had about enough of you tonight, thanks.”

If that’s all you can take, then I worry that you couldn’t—

“Shut,” you ground out, “the fuck up.”

Khonshu laughed as he slipped back into whatever the hell sort of fifth dimension he lived in when he wasn’t plaguing you with his insufferability.

Some days were harder than others.

Khonshu had long since grown accustomed to his present state—malnourished, most definitely, and somewhat inhibited by old wounds on top of it—but the length of time under which he’d had no choice but to suffer did not make the affair any easier with which to deal. The constant nagging ache deep in the core of his wellspring—what he could only suspect was the closest equivalent to hunger in mortals, as he didn’t quite experience the same sensations—was an ignorable, background sensation at this point. Any bit of a boon he was granted by his few remaining followers soothed the worst of that acute, piercing emptiness, but given the fact that his avatars required continual support via the maintenance of the magical integrity of his ceremonial armor, oftentimes the energy would instead be passed right along to them instead of being kept for himself.

Such was the explanation behind Khonshu’s ghastly appearance—how could he sustain his physical manifestations when the continuation of his duties sapped what little energy he had from his own shallow wellspring to start with?

He never spent very much time taking in his own visage, whether it be in reflections provided by glass or by water. Even still, however—after over two thousand years of being trapped in the unrelentingly vicious reality of scrounging around for any scraps of divine energy he could come across for the sake of alleviating the hollowness resounding within himself—he would catch himself expecting to see glimpses of his old silhouette in his periphery, but was always met with the skeletal remains of the glory long ripped from him by his fellow deities.

He tried not to dwell on it too much, and it usually never came up naturally—most of his avatars through time assumed, given their ignorance towards the culture from which he’d originated and had nurtured, that it was how he had always appeared. Languishing in the negative feelings and memories that particular line of thought always drudged back to the surface only debilitated him. Righteous anger was easier to deal with than the repressed wounds still weeping from betrayal and despair. Those feelings never went away, really, given that his ‘hunger’ was a near-constant reminder of that single life-altering event over two millennia prior, but…most of the time he was able to shove them to the back of his mind.

You certainly helped him to do so.

An inexplicable balm to his soul, Khonshu found relief and refuge in the unshakeable lee you formed against the rest of the mortal world entombing him. Your steadfast dedication and devotion fed him, little by little, just enough to ease the ache. Perhaps it was irrational to rely upon that mutual symbiosis, a feedback loop doomed to fail eventually, since he was forced to channel that energy right back into the armor to keep you from harm, but he’d be damned with assurity if he was forced to forfeit you now.

You, mercifully, didn’t comment upon the…unfettered touchiness…that he displayed when the weariness that always followed a night out executing his justice superceded his finer mental factulties.

Your bed was much too small to fit the both of you comfortably, but you’d insisted that it would work if you sat up against the headboard and he pulled his legs up onto the mattress. Your fingers were light against the sweep of his shoulder, tracing the stark line of wiry muscle that conjoined at the scapulae. You’d already explored much of his back this way, reading the topography of him with your palm. Your other hand rested upon the curve of his head, thumb rubbing small circles that metronomed your steady, slow breaths and your occasional quiet humming.

He should have felt foolish, contorted not unlike a child with his head resting on your lap. Throughout the lengthy span of his life, he’d never stooped so low to demean himself in such a manner. The rest of the Ennead would make him the laughing stock of all pantheons if they knew of his particular…weakness for you. Although the Grecians often intermingled with man, the Ennead had long since forbidden it…but he couldn’t help but wonder. If it was so wrong, why did it make him feel the way that it did?

Even still, it would not be a good thing for them to discover. He didn’t fear himself much anymore, but if anything ever happened to you or Badru…

“You okay?” you asked softly, smoothing your hand up between his shoulders to cup the nape of his neck, rousing him from the light, dozing trance into which you’d unwittingly induced him. “You went all stiff on me.”

Khonshu grumbled. I am fine.

You let out a noncommital, if skeptical, sound and shifted a little to press the heels of both your hands into the meat of his shoulders. He winced as you dug in, working some of the tension free from his physical form. “Just got you relaxed and then you went and started overthinking again,” you tutted. “What goes on in that big noggin of yours, I wonder?”

Nothing good, he mumbled.

“I already knew that much,” you huffed. You found a particularly sore place below his scapula and his fingers knotted into the material of your t-shirt tighter as he smothered a grunt. “You’re just as bad as I am.”

You couldn’t fathom the heaviness of all that weighs on my mind, he pointed out sourly.

“Mmhmm.” You leaned forward and reached down to press at the base of his spine. His hiss was muffled by your thigh. “And you fuss at me for not keeping the armor as long as I need it,” you sighed. “Why don’t you use your abilities on yourself, too?”

Because he would bear it if it meant harm wouldn’t befall you. Because he would starve himself until he withered to dust if you had another chance to retain the breath in your lungs. Because you could bleed him dry and he would give you the knife with which to tap the celestiality that coursed through his arteries.

Heliopolitan maladies differ from that of humanity’s, he said instead.

“That seems a little counterintuitive,” you remarked, dragging up his sides to rid his ribs of their tension.

I require a greater expenditure of energy due to the nature of my body being primarily incorporeal and thus sustained only on my magic. It is much easier to heal tangible tissue. Khonshu tilted his head to peer up at your face, creased with determination and focused on the length of his back sprawling away from you. The material of your duvet was soft and warm against the bare skin of his torso, a balm against the perpetual chill that clung to his bones. The natural, thriving heat that emanated from your body certainly helped. What I consume is sufficient.

You frowned, eyes traveling over the gaunt press of his skeleton against his ashen, tawny flesh, barely hidden by the leanness of what muscle he’d retained in this form. “Somehow I doubt that.”

It was enough to sustain him and little else, but you didn’t need to know that.

You are fretting over nothing. Although that is nothing new, he jibed, hoping to redirect you.

He could sense your dubiety, but you thankfully dropped the subject. “...Do you sleep?”

Rarely. Allowing himself to slip into dormancy in his present state for any considerable length of time was a dangerous game he only dared to play when his wellspring was at its lowest tolerable level. He had also always preferred to remain vigilant in order to watch over the earth for any outstanding threats that may crop up on the misfortune-prone planet. Now that he had you and Ru under his protection, he especially resisted the urge that tugged at him at his weakest points. But I am capable of it, if that is what you mean.

“I had wondered. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with your guard down.”

There were reasons for that, too, ones that he’d prefer that you never learned.

I must never set down my creed for even a moment, he said, else the world fall to shambles in my absence.

“That’s called catastrophizing, in my realm of expertise,” you pointed out gently, forfeiting your inspection of his throbbing (but less achey) back and instead scratching your fingernails feather-light over his scalp. Frissons broke out over his skin and skittered down the length of his spine. “Thinking about worst case scenarios doesn’t give you any more control over what could or will happen. Plus, I think we’ve got a sufficient number of guardians all over the world to help give you a break.”

You are aware that those merchandised puppets are not even aware of the realm in which I dwell and deal, aren’t you?

“I’m pretty sure I’ve heard stories about sorcerers or something, but that’s besides the point. You need to let yourself rest occasionally. I don’t even want to imagine what several thousands of years’ worth of burnout looks like.”

You were looking directly at it, frankly. Khonshu readjusted his arms to wrap around your back, hands overlapping your waist as he buried his face into the crease of your thighs once more. I am resting.

You went silent at that, movements stilling for a long moment. Then you shifted, hunched over him, and placed a chaste, lingering kiss on the crown of his head. “Well, then I’ll leave you alone.” You returned to your position against the headboard, pillows cushioning your back, and resumed your soothing touches along his scalp, neck, and shoulders. “...If you wanted to sleep, I can stay up for you for a while. If the world starts ending, I’ll be sure to wake you up.”

It was far more tempting an offer than Khonshu could resist, given your attentiveness had coaxed that old exhaustion to the surface like the tide. He wondered if you possessed any supernatural abilities of your own, or if it was because that was the same tone his mother had always used to convince him to sleep when he was young. You wouldn’t know if there was a disturbance in the astral plane if it struck you by the back of your head, he murmured, sagging into you steadily.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you returned quietly, thumb tracing the impression of a scar along his temple. “Just let me take care of you, Khonshu.”

He was trying his best, truly. It was certainly difficult to protest such a precious gift offered with no malicious intents underlying its tender promises.