Theo #2
I offered the back of her head a soft smile. “Thank you for taking care of me. Let’s take care of you now. Starting with a bath."
I'd done my best to hide Vivian's gruesome handiwork from her view as we made our way to the waterfall. But I’d caught her gazing at the heads on spikes in the distance as we cleaned up. Her stare a mile long.
I hurried us through bathing. It wasn’t intimate or even particularly gentle. I used two hands to wash myself and two to wash her so we could get back inside as quickly as possible. Afterwards, I scooped her into my arms and tucked her face into my neck while I carried her back to the cabin.
She stood in the kitchen now. Naked, hugging her arms, and dripping on the floorboards as I dug through what food she had left.
I threw roots, greens, spices, and water into a pot and covered it to boil.
I chopped blackberries finely and scraped them into a bowl.
She was catatonic. Her skin looked pale, sickly. When did she eat last?
“Do you want me to talk to you? Or be silent?” I asked as I pumped water into a jug.
She didn’t respond.
“Sorry,” I frowned. “Nod if you want me to talk to you.”
She nodded.
“Okay,” I inhaled, bracing myself. “I’m so sorry. I should have never—”
She shook her head.
“No apologies?” My gut twisted in regret. I needed to apologize.
She nodded.
Alright. If that was what she needed. “Want me to avoid… recent events?” How did I even go about summarizing everything that had gone wrong.
She nodded.
“Sure, darling.” My head bobbed in understanding. I had some trauma education from my time with G.P.O., not to mention a host of communication skills from a decade of bartending. I could do this. I could use my words to heal her. “Can I tell you a story?”
She nodded. Her fingers relaxed slightly from their iron grip on her arms.
My own stories might be triggering right now.
I figured the best I could do was struggle through remembering a fairytale instead.
Graysen had gone through a phase of reading them—presumably after meeting Faeryn—and left a few books laying around the pub.
Sometimes I'd skim them to pass the time when work was slow.
“Alright… Bear with me. Where do I start…” I inhaled; this wasn’t natural to me. “So, Quadmos didn’t always have horns. They were soldiers for the Eastern Kingdom…”
I looked at her for approval to continue. Were soldiers and wars a safe enough topic? She didn’t seem triggered. And modern “wars” were very different from what they had been all those millennia ago. They shouldn’t be too similar to the current situation.
Breathe, Theo.
This anxiety wasn’t natural to me, either.
I was good at conversation. The moment was just so fragile, and my words felt like a hammer swinging around, threatening to shatter something precious.
But there was the slightest twinkling in her eye as I talked.
I would keep going to keep that spark alive.
“The Eastern Continent is politically different from the Western Continent. It’s divided into three territories, each ruled by a king.
The kings work together now, but there were wars between their ancestors.
Mostly over land ownership. Quadmos were good soldiers because they can hold shields in one set of arms and swords in the other. ”
I paused to make sure “sword” wasn’t a triggering weapon. She seemed fine.
“The ruler of the coastal territory pushed his army inland. The King of the Gardens, named after his lush kingdom, didn’t want war on his land.
He was a Thornian who valued peace.” I internally cringed.
Maybe there was some overlap between this story and ours.
But her eyes were increasingly attentive and that was enough encouragement to push me forward.
“It’s a cultural virtue for their species. ”
“Instead of giving each Quadmos soldier two swords and two shields, he gave them each four shields. They lined the border, creating a wall of metal and strength that nobody could penetrate. They held their position for years, food and water was brought by the villagers three times daily. Then one day, the opposing king died of old age. It was over. So, finally, the Quadmos soldiers—now much older and weathered—were able to break apart their barricade and go home.”
I peered at my goddess. I wouldn’t be nearly as pacifistic when protecting our land. Then again, this wasn’t a fairytale war from olden times. This was a covert operation of ruthless strategy, with the lives of the innocent at stake.
“To thank the Quadmos soldiers for their years of service to the kingdom and peace, the Thornian king bestowed each a pair of small horns on their foreheads. Making them honorary Thornians, and symbolically part of his family.”
Vivian remained silent, standing in a small pool of the water that had dripped from her freshly washed body.
Her arms, partially concealed under the teardrop of her large breasts, loosened their hug on her ribs slightly.
The story had done its job of distracting while the food cooked, and now it was dinner time.
“The end,” I said softly as I opened the steaming pot.
“Thank you,” she whispered through barely parted lips.
Hearing her voice was divine bliss.
Bellies full and my strength returning, I cradled Vivian across my lap in our bed.
The cabin bathed in dim lantern light, I could almost pretend nothing had happened here.
The streaks of red on the floorboards looked like normal shadows in the wood.
The rug was back in place. Nurghle was curled up at the foot of the mattress, his side rising and falling with heavy breaths.
I was so grateful for his little cries that led me to them.
Could a cat smell me? Recognize my footsteps? Had he been calling out for me?
“You don’t have to stay here. I can protect my home myself,” Vivian whispered. Her voice was still small, but she’d slowly started speaking again after dinner. This was by far the most coherent thing she’d said yet, and I was sad it was the suggestion that I leave.
“I know you can protect you and yours, my brave Little Goddess. But as long as I’m alive, you’ll never have to again. I’m not leaving you. I swear my life to you as your guardian and your mate.”
“My mate?” Her lashes batted as she tilted her head back against my arm to meet my gaze. I’d been affectionately staring down at her, waiting for her to notice for some time. “Is that what you call husbands here?”
I knew the term of endearment, although it wasn’t commonly used on Trebianna. “Yes, your husband. I’d like you to be my wife. And as your husband, I’ll be whatever you need. Your shield, your sword, your faithful servant.”
I’d hoped we could have this conversation with more romance, but Vivian wasn’t capable of that right now.
Strong feelings were being blocked by her mind, protecting her from them.
She needed to hear this from me now. I wasn’t sure she would crawl out of this box she was hiding in until certain she was safe.
Her expression cracked. Her lips contorted into a strange combination frown-smile, her brows arched, her eyes grew shiny, and she laughed.
I tried not to be hurt by her amusement in response to my proposal. “What’s funny, darling?”
“I was thinking about what I could bring to a marriage.” She sniffled and that expression of demented humor grew a toothy grin. “And I thought, you know, I’m a shitty lumberjack. But turns out, I am great with an axe.” She burst out into tearful laughter.
“It’s never too late to find a new skill,” I offered. The joke was dark, but I was just relieved to see her processing.
She continued her unhinged, miserable cackling. “Your wife the axe murderer!”
I felt a pang in my heart. Sure, she knew how to defend herself. But that wasn’t a part of who she was as a person.
“No, darling, you aren’t a murderer,” I cooed with conviction. “But I am. And I’ll make sure the only reason you ever have to pick up an axe again, is to become a better lumberjack. If there are more intruders—” There will be. “—I can kill enough for the both of us.”