Rotes Mädchen: Chapter 3
(Werewolf! König x Red Riding Hood! Reader)
(Art by the lovely @zwienzixes)
(Masterlist)
Word count: 4.1k Rating: PG-13 Tags: Werewolf! König, Fairytale AU, Monster Hunters TF141, Traditional German Fairytale setting, Price x Reader, F! Reader, Injury, Blood/Injury, Fluff Warnings: Mentioned gore
BANG BANG BANG!
You startle awake at the sound of a fist hammering onto your front door, briefly flailing in your bed as you try to reconcile yourself with the hazy world around you. It takes you a moment to catch your breath, heart rising up to your throat at the thundering noise. The cool, damp light of sunrise spills through the curtains, illuminating your cottage in a dove-grey dimness that seems gentle compared to the sudden shock of the clamor on your front step.
BANG BANG BANG!
"Red?" A voice calls out, and you blink, trying to place the unfamiliar gruffness that permeates your thoughts still clouded by dreams.
Price.
You sway to your feet, fatigued and cold from the frosty chill of dawn. Muscles protesting the frigid interior of your cabin, you shiver and rub your arms for a semblance of warmth. You take a single step forward, floorboards creaking, when you spot scarlet at your feet.
Bloody rags.
A startled gasp threatens up your throat. Choked, tasting of frost. You manage to swallow it, thoughts racing as you try to remember. The world feels clouded in mystery, your dreams haunted by lurking shadows and the full, full moon, of dripping fangs and a lonely, harrowing howl to the ink dark heavens.
The woods, the scarlet smear against tree bark, a wavering voice calling out from the lichen shadows, bright eyes so afraid. Hands stained red, a desperate plea, a whispered name.
König.
Your gaze widens, and at once you look up to the loft above you, heart pounding in your chest. There, hidden amongst the hay and spare blankets, a hooded face peeks down at you, a pale fist clutching a white-knuckle grip around his bedding. You can see the whites of König’s eyes, can practically hear the terror of his heartbeat thrum alongside your own.
BANG BANG BANG!
You both jump at the sound, and you have to slam a hand over your mouth to contain the gasp of surprise the shudder of the door wrecks through you.
"Red, are you in there?!" Price calls out again, and there's a strange franticness to his voice that feels unlike the strong, resilient, resolute captain who had escorted you to your door in the darkness, had reassured you of his own strength against a monstrous enemy.
"J-just a moment!" You yelp at last, hands shaking as you duck down to gather the bloody bandages, toss them and hide them under your blanket, dump a bowl with its ruddy water into the smoldering fireplace. Quickly, you try to erase the appearance of anyone except yourself in your cottage, knowing of the danger König faces should he be noticed. Persecution, accusation, injury, maybe death.
If Price hears any commotion inside, he doesn't say. If anything, it worries you more, considering his silence as contemplation to your sudden panic.
You cast a fearful glance to the hayloft, where König’s eyes dart from the door to you, eyes under his hood pleading and voice silent lest he be discovered.
"Hide." You mouth to him desperately, terror pulsing breathily between your ribs.
Fortunately, König seems to understand your silent command, because he rolls backwards, further into the loft, trying his best to drape the threadbare blanket across his massive form to obscure himself. It isn't perfect, and a close inspection wouldn't pass muster, which is all the more reason for you to be convincing towards the Witcher at your door.
You snatch a shawl from a chair, drape it over your shoulders for a semblance of decency before padding over to the door and unlatching it, peering through the crack.
Price, who had been waiting with his arms crossed, spins to face you. There's a grimness to the wrinkle of his brow that melts at the sight of you, his gaze clouding with relief.
"Thank the Gods." He mutters under his breath, arms dropping to his side.
You blink at that, at the profound worry in his voice, somehow tender despite the gruff and sharp edges of him.
"Good...morning?" You offer sheepishly, ignoring the way your hand trembles on the inside of the latch where he can't see it.
Price huffs, and once more his expression shifts under your gaze, mouth puckering in something resembling frustration.
"A good morning now that I know you're alive, yes." He tells you sharply, and you nearly flinch at that, at the sudden bite of his words. "Where were you yesterday? We spent all bloody day trying to find you, we-" Price draws a breath, lets it exhale through his nose as he tries to steady himself, scowling. Yet the trace of worry isn't quite gone from his gaze as he speaks next, words gentler.
"We thought the worst when we couldn't find you." He confesses after a few moments pause, voice solemn, concerned.
You can feel the shock pass over your face as you gaze up at him, into the blue of his frustrated gaze tempered by a fleeting glimmer of distress. It occurs to you then that you failed to consider Laswell and the others in this plan of yours, in bringing König back under the cover of darkness to hide him from prying eyes. You'd been gone all day, hadn't even returned by sunset. If Price had somehow come to check on you during the day and found you absent, it made sense he'd assume the worst. Especially with a monstrous foe stalking the midnight woods.
"I'm-" You try, voice catching in your throat with shame at having worried your new friends so. It makes it even harder to summon the lie on your lips, the one needed to both reassure Price and keep the injured man in your loft safe.
"I'm sorry." You breathe at last. "I didn't mean to worry you. I went out to pick herbs in the woods at sunrise. I thought maybe- maybe one of you might end up injured so..." Your trail off a little uselessly, biting your lip and trying to will the captain before you to relent.
It seems to work, because the tension unwinds from Price's shoulders all of an inch. He exhales long and hard through his nose, closing his eyes as he once more tries to measure himself.
"You went back into the woods after we were nearly attacked?" He asks, and you stiffen at the coldness in his voice, reeking of an ire second only concern. "When I told you to stay put?"
You frown at that, hand curling into a fist as it braces on the frame of your front door.
"You told me to wait until dawn." You correct him, voice harder now, eyes glinting with retribution. "You never told me not to leave my home."
Price has the decency to look taken aback, thick eyebrows arching at the sudden steel in your tone. He pauses then, and you see his hand palm the pommel of his sword at his side in contemplation, realizing his mistake.
"You're right." He offers at last with a nod, admitting to his fault. "Apologies. I didn't mean to raise my voice."
You don't answer, feeling a righteous pulse of justification that feels muted by the reminder of the man at your mercy still hiding in your home. You aren't entirely sure Price would hurt König, but between the bite on his leg and the ominous hood covering his face, you can imagine a monster hunter such as Price quickly jumping to conclusions and drawing his sword. You want to imagine the captain would be understanding of your guest, but if anything, the bite of the captain's words, the underlying suggestion of protection makes you want to close the door another inch, try and shield König’s stilled form from his view.
"You worried us, love." Price confesses softly, arms crossed but posture still tender at the seams of him. His head tilts down to regard you, the brim of his cap not fully shielding the familiarity in his gaze. "When we couldn't find you Laswell pitched a fit. In all my years I've barely seen her that furious."
He pauses, lets the weight of his concern rest on your gaze. "You mean a lot to her, I hope you know that. She'd never forgive me if I let something happen to you."
The undercurrent of Price's words is not lost on you, with his head tilted down towards you, eyes soft with something teetering dangerously close to fondness. It should soften your heart, should make you want to go lax into his arms, offer not apologies but a request for comfort from a man you respect, and harbor emotions you dare not yet name. You can't find the strength to do so, not with your secret listening to this entire conversation silently above you.
"I know." You whisper, breath fogging into the cool morning that seeps past the openness of your door, with you still in your nightgown, huddled under your shawl. You avert your eyes from Price's gaze, grimacing when you notice the miniscule stiffness that runs through him at your hesitancy. "I'll...be more careful. I promise."
Price nods, a little absent, his eyes a little distant. He's ready to say something else, breathing in a slow inhale-
When he freezes.
"Is that blood?" He asks, sniffing once more, eyes growing dark.
Your heart drops through the floor.
Gazing down at your feet, Price can't see the terror that flickers across your gaze, lips parting in horrid realization.
The bandages. The bowl. The water in the fireplace. The man hidden above you.
Blood.
Your cottage smells like blood.
"Red." Price rumbles, guarded, on edge as he echoes your nickname. He senses danger, can smell it in the air, his senses seek it like noise on the wind. Now, that alertness has him re-examining you, looking past your shoulder to the interior of your home, eyes tracing up the ladder to the loft-
Your eyes shoot up to him, lips fumbling for an explanation, feeling something resembling both terror and treachery reside in your heart.
"R-red...fox?" You manage, a little stifled, voice strained. Yet it's enough to make Price pause, look at you in confusion, expression somewhat startled. You swallow, force down the sudden tightness in your throat and do your best to relax your expression into neutrality once more.
"I found a red fox in the woods." You tell him, voice even. "It had already died- a hunter must have lost it. I decided to bring it back and u-use the fur for my cape, since winter is nearly here."
You have no idea where this newfound bravery comes from, the way you're able to smoothly spin a lie from nothing like silvery spider threads, smile and flutter your eyes at the captain as if you know he'll accept it.
Price seems...taken aback, for a moment, with your face turned up to him and offering him a timid smile. The hand that has tightened on the grip of his sword goes lax, eyes blinking a few times as his eyes lock with yours. You watch him nod once, a few times as he weighs your words.
"Explains why you were back late then." He tells you, and if there's a remainder of caution, of disbelief in his tone you refuse to acknowledge it, maintaining the grace in which you've spoken. The smile on your lips doesn't waver, doesn't budge even as Price stares down at you unblinking, searching for dishonesty in your gaze.
When he doesn't find it he sighs, raises a hand to rub at his brow.
"It would be better if you came and stayed at Laswell's for a bit." He suggests, though it sounds less like a suggestion and more like a declaration- one you refuse to bend to. "It would ease her mind knowing you're safe with us."
If he had asked you yesterday, before you had ventured into the woods, you would have readily accepted, would have had your things packed the moment he asked. Now, however, there's a secret, a responsibility that weighs heavy on your shoulders, gazes at you from the silence of the story above.
"Thank you, but I'll be alright." You offer gently, declining him. "I don't want to be underfoot, and I'd be more comfortable wandering around in my nightgown here than around four armed men."
It seems, up until this moment, Price has forgotten you are standing in your undergarments. There's a thin layer of linen that separates your bare flesh to the misty fog of early morning, your figure barely obscured by the drape of the garment against the curves of you, almost sheer in the area where it has been worn down. The chill of the morning ripples across your skin, and for a moment you're grateful for your shawl that obscures the swell of your breasts with your nipples pebbled against the cold.
You see Price quickly avert his eyes from you, looking over your head and clearing his throat in a sudden bout of bashfulness that seems strangely boyish for his grim demeanor.
"Right." He offers after a moment, more to himself than to you. "I'll...send the boys to check on you later, escort you if you need to travel into the forest."
He shoots you a look, brows raised, as if to seek your approval, and you nod. You see his eyes dart down for just a moment before he remembers himself as a gentleman, turning from your doorstep and towards the sleek mare that stands nearby. You watch him turn, see the glint of his dulled armor in the scant morning light, overcast by a sheen of clouds in the chalky grey sky above.
You're ready to close the door, breathe a sigh of relief, when his voice catches you once more.
"Red."
You blink, turn to him, with one hand still clutching at your shawl. Price fixes you with that grimness you remember from your first meeting, the resolve you saw when he escorted you safely home under the cover of darkness.
"We managed to injure it." He tells you, and it takes you a moment to realize what he means.
The wolf.
You shift uneasily, a shudder trembling through you at the memory of the huge, lurking thing in the woods, backlit by the waning Autumn moon.
"That's...good then, yes?" You offer timidly, but Price only shakes his head.
"An animal is most dangerous when it's injured and cornered." He declares gravely, voice heavy with warning. "Monsters are no exception."
He holds your gaze, and even without the grim spark of determination in his eyes, his warning is clear.
Be safe.
There's little else said before Price hoists himself into the saddle, gathering the reins and pausing just long enough to tip his hat to you in farewell. With a kick and a whinny, he's off down the main road of the village, back into the forest where the creature that paces your nightmares lurks, waiting. Watching.
You wait until the mist has settled before you close the door, the iron latch clanking shut as you lean against it with a relieved exhale. You can still feel your hands trembling, heart trying once more to resume into steadiness in the absence of the Witcher.
"Is he gone?"
You open your eyes, looking up to the top of the ladder that leads to the loft. A pair of eyes gazes down at you from beneath a hood, and you can see the bright glint of concern there as König grasps onto the ladder, head tilted owlishly at you.
You nod up at him quietly, swallowing another deep breath before your chin droops to your collarbone, where the laces of your nightgown rest delicately against your skin.
Ah-
König must see your eyes widen, because he makes a choked, startled little noise and draws back further into the loft so he can't see you in your state of undress. It's strangely endearing, considering his mammoth size and terrifying stature, and if you weren't so abashed at being so exposed you'd giggle.
"G-give me a moment to dress." You offer instead, moving back towards the partition that separates your bed from the rest of the cottage. "Then I can check your bandages."
König makes a muffled noise of agreement, still not revealing himself so as to allow you a modicum of privacy.
You dress quickly, pulling on your chemise, blouse, bodice and skirt. You're in the process of rolling up your stockings when you call out to him, voice gentle so as to not startle the gentle giant.
"You can come down now, if you want." You tell him. "I'll start the fire."
There's a little bit of a rustle from above, the floorboards creaking as König angles himself so his eyes peek over the edge and down towards you.
"A fire sounds nice." He supplies shyly after a moment. Then he hesitates, blinks a few times and avoids your gaze before adding: "...Maybe some food?"
"Of course." You reply gently, a soft smile across your face. König’s shoulders sink visibly in relief, and he begins to slow, aching process of descending the ladder on his injured calf.
It takes you a few minutes to restart the flickering flames in the hearth and set water to boil so you can try and clean the bloody bandages from the night before. König hesitates at the edge of the kitchen before you nod to a seat, where he perches uncertainly, eyes watching you with interest as you gather food and supplies.
"Here." You offer, sitting across from him and patting your thigh in a gesture for him to prop his leg on yours. When he does, the weight of it weighs down across your thighs, preventing you from moving even if you lifted with all your strength.
"Danke." You supply, and König makes another little noise of agreement, as if he can't truly summon the words to say much more.
There's a comfortable silence that descends over you both as you brace König’s leg on your lap wordlessly, gently unwinding the stained bandages to examine the wound below. König watches you as you do, remains absolutely rigid under your touch, as if the thought alone of someone laying their hands on him has something inside his chest squirm uncomfortably. You offer him a look of reassurance, only to find the wanderer averting his eyes from you.
If you look closely, you think you can see a dusting of pink under his hood. Then again, perhaps you imagine it.
The warmth of the hearth glows at your back as you inspect the bite mark on König’s flesh. Yet your brow scrunches, head dipping lower as you realize the wound is somehow much better than you thought it was- not bleeding, mostly scabbed over, the bruising already fading to yellow. It's already quite healed, and the shock of it bypasses something inside you that distantly tries to say that it isn't right.
"How is it?" König offers suddenly, and despite the low volume of his voice it's still enough to make you jump a little in your chair, the weight of his leg keeping you in place.
"You'll live." You supply with dry humor as you force yourself to relax. It seems to bleed into König. who's shoulders fall an inch, a sigh fluttering the fabric of his hood as he lifts his eyes to you.
"Thank you." He tells you honestly, earnestly. It's a tone you haven't heard from him yet, something that goes beyond gentleness and instead imbues you with a profound gratitude at his words. "You...saved my life."
You look down to your hands a little shyly, unable to keep a smile off your face. You begin the delicate process of cleaning his brawny calf before at last replying.
"I couldn't just...leave you out there." You tell him softly. "Not with the werewolf, not when you're injured. It would be wrong."
Your mouth twists as the memory of the monster is once more summoned into your thoughts. A massive dark shadow that wavers in the darkness between the gaps of gnarled trees, a low vibrating growl that shudders through you. König shifts uneasily under your hands, as if somehow he can sense the vision that haunts you, likely having seen the same thing.
"Besides." You continue, smiling. "It's nice to not be alone."
König pauses, blinking at you before he tilts his head in question. "Even if it's a stranger you rescued from the woods?" He asks, voice betraying a hint of his amused disbelief.
You grin at him, a little cheeky, eyes twinkling.
"Especially strangers from the woods."
He huffs at that, as if he doesn't really believe you but finds humor in your answer anyways.
"Honestly." You go on, tucking away the wet cloth stained red with the remainder of blood. "I'm...not exactly popular in the village. My neighbors think I'm rather strange. They leave me alone because they respect Laswell, but if it weren't for her...I don't know if they'd be as civil to me as they are."
"They don't like you?" König asks incredulously, brow knotting under his hood. "But...you're so kind."
You feel your face warm a little at that, and you distract yourself from it with a little huff, reaching for fresh bandages. Yet you pause, look up at him with a bit of a sorrowful gaze, feeling a familiar ache of solitude washed away in his gaze.
"Thank you." You tell him softly. "But kindness doesn't mean much to people who have lived their lives being afraid of things they don't understand."
Blinking, you grimace in realization when König averts his eyes away from you. The hood still rests over his face, obscuring the apparent deformities under it, and you realize that the words you've said remain all too familiar to him. Had they not, perhaps you wouldn't have found him lingering outside the village, too afraid to come closer for fear of the treatment he would receive.
"I suppose we're similar that way then." You muse, resuming your motions. Despite the frigid chill of the cottage still being warmed by the fire, König’s skin feels warm under your palm. You lay it flat on his knee to steady him when he shifts, and the resulting shudder of sensation from him nearly makes you pull away.
"Good company, then." He offers, almost too quiet to be heard, and it startles a chuckle from you- not expecting his response and delighted all the same.
"Good company indeed." You shoot back, unwinding the bandages and wrapping them once around the wound before securing the base of them. "Now hold still."
The grumble that König gives you is begrudging, yet endearing all the same, complying as he tries to not move while you delicately re-dress the bite mark on his leg. Yet it seems he has yet to exhaust his words, because he draws a breath as if to reply once, twice, thrice before he speaks.
"The captain-" He begins at last, voice a little strained. "Are you and him...?"
You splutter.
"N-no. He's...ah, he's just a friend." You answer haltingly, face warming under the sudden intensity of your guest's stare. "I mean, I only met him the other day. I rode with him to Laswell's and back, we-" You trail off, suddenly feeling the urge to shyly press your face into your hands.
"So, you do like him." König continues, and you look up sharply to him to see amusement dancing brightly in his gaze. You pinch the soft skin below his knee and the giant jolts under you even as you press down on his leg to keep him in place. Still, he breathes a huff of laughter even as you roll your eyes.
"Of course." You drawl, winding his bandages a little tighter for effect. "Yes, the poor maiden who lives alone in the woods gets her fabled ending by being whisked away by the handsome Witcher atop his dark horse. I think I read that one."
König hums a little noise in his throat, tilting his head so you can see the way his eyes crinkle with a little smile.
"That, or maybe a handsome werewolf." He ventures, and that startles a bark of laughter out of you, bright and colorful in your chest as you tie off the bandages and look at him once more.
You weigh his gaze against your own, see the smile in his stare reflected back into you. The fire crackles warmly at your back, catching orange and hazy against his hood, glinting against his pupils. The cottage feels warm now, not with the smell of woodsmoke, but with the small bit of happiness shared between you two, composed of laughter and the blooming fullness of contentment.
"Good company." You declare again, not yet looking away from him, and the brightness of his gaze only seems to grow as he agrees.
"Good company."
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