My Star
There were many so-called “simple pleasures” the Deity had given up hoping for, long ago. Those pleasures, it seemed back then, would forever evade his company. His only remaining hopes had been dashed over the long course of his imprisonment. He never pictured he’d have much of a life of his own, let alone a happy one, where he wasn't ever only needed as a weapon of war. Nor could he have imagined he’d ever be anything but just that; a mere tool made for destruction of mass proportions. Centuries spent as a weapon of war had sharpened his blade yet dulled his spirits, and he’d long ago convinced himself that this was it. That this was all there was to him. He’d even stopped seeing it as a problem.
…But then he met you.
You, so kind, so warm, and so gentle with him in every way, despite his lumbering size and threatening demeanour. Despite everything he was, and had been up to that point. He knew, and so did you, that all it would take was a flick of the wrist, and someone could get hurt, even if only unintentionally. When asked if that frightened you, you’d responded with a smile, and held his hand in yours with warmth entirely foreign to him. Yet it was not unwelcomed.
‘I trust that you wouldn’t, though. Even though you can…I trust that you wouldn’t.’
How the Deity’s heart leaped at the sincerity of your statement, at the time, was far beyond him. You were so small compared to him, so seemingly fragile in his hands. He was afraid to touch you at all for many days after his meeting you, for fear that he would mistakenly harm you. How could something as small and precious as you hold up to a god designed for war? Such a thought that you’d even be capable of such a thing had evaded him.
…Until he saw you in battle.
You belonged, he knew, with the gods. There was no changing his mind on the matter. The Deity even had to convince himself many times that he was not watching a dance or a show, but a fight. Your movements were so carefully precise, so fluid in delivery, and so graceful in execution, he couldn’t help but watch in sheer awe of your divine skills. You were the perfect epitome of beauty and strength, grace and skill. Your blade, barely even visible as you swung it, cut down enemies with such swiftness he had to wonder if you were secretly a deity yourself. However, he knew fate to be much less than kind, especially to you.
Your years would pass in the blink of an eye for the Deity, and he cursed the cruel hand of fate for such an atrocity. Without even so much as another second thought, he found himself wishing he hadn’t even wasted those precious days following your chance meeting, unwilling to even accept your walking beside him for the fear of somehow hurting you. Now, there was nothing he found himself wanting more than to have you by his side, every single day, while he still had you.
From that day forward, the Deity admits he tried forging some kind of connection. With you. He noticed you growing more bold in attempting a bond between yourself and him as well, and he was more than accepting of your affections. For instance, the Deity liked to say that he didn’t require much, so he scarcely ate at meals, if at all. You didn’t seem to take well to that. You even went so far as to force a bowl or plate in his hands, sitting pressed against him in some way to encourage him to eat. All he could think about in those times was how warm you felt against him, and how small, but he knew your capabilities. He always finished his helping.
You cared about him. He quickly found himself reciprocating that care, for you. So now, comparing himself now from the days following your meet, felt so…surreal. So…impossibly, wonderfully true.
He had his back against a tree, sitting straight against it, with your cosy form nestled into the space he’d created for you by crossing his legs. The group of heroes had stopped in a small clearing along the road for the night, after a long day of trying to make it through a field of monster camps. The one called ‘Wild’ was cooking something in an iron pot, with the one called ‘Four’ helping to cut a few things for him. The one called ‘Wind’ was drawing with a stick in the dirt close by. The others each sat somewhere around the clearing, sleeping, or performing weapon or armour maintenance. You, however, seemed content to sit in the Deity’s lap, back against his chest, nose in a book.
The Deity couldn't help but notice how perfectly you fit in his embrace, his body surrounding yours like a living frame. You were so comfortable here, and so at peace. Soft sounds of entertainment left you every so often, from the book or from the group’s antics. Your laughter in response to some of their stories was perhaps the most divine sound he’d ever heard, and though he wished it were him bringing you such joy, he was glad to be here for the sound of it.
Perhaps it was uncalled for, but the Deity had a thought. You were cuddled so naturally against him, the scent of your shampoo—and what he assumed to be the worn pages of your book—assaulted his senses in all the best ways. You were the only thing on his mind, as you would always be. He wanted to somehow express his own content, as he was not always best with his words. You seemed to enjoy his touch, always reaching for it, even in the beginning.
The Deity hummed to himself, and hunched just slightly to wrap his arms around your waist. His chin rested on your shoulder, his nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck. Your startled little yelp amused him, though it caught the attention of the rest of the group. The Deity couldn’t bring himself to care much, however, as he had you.
You, so kind, so warm, and so gentle with him in every way. Should he not at least attempt to reciprocate those attributes? He wanted you to know how grateful he was to you, even if he couldn’t find ways to say it. You were worth every attempt, he thought—that, and anything and everything he could possibly give you. He’d gift you the very stars in the sky above if he could, until you beheld to him a galaxy in your eyes.
“Everything okay, Fierce?” you asked him softly, your book forgotten as you placed it on the ground at your feet. The Deity hummed again, into your neck, sending vibrations down your back. He noticed a slight shiver travel against his chest in return. How interesting.
“I am only making myself comfortable, my star.”
A breathy sound then left your lips, resembling a cross between a light chuckle and a happy exhale. He hoped he hadn’t startled you too much, but you’d surprised him when your hand reached up behind you to cup his jaw, and you twisted your neck to kiss his cheek in a lingering press. A great warmth flooded his chest at the simple gesture, spreading down to his fingertips in a curious phenomenon. One he’d never felt before, but longed to feel again.
When your lips left his cheek, he was perplexed to find how cold his skin felt in their absence. He resisted the urge to touch his fingers to the spot, instead clasping his hands around you.
“Fierce?”
Your voice sounded small. Perhaps it was to keep the others from listening, so he acknowledged you with an equally soft tone.
“Yes, star?”
He heard you exhale quietly, observing the way your cheeks pulled from behind—a sign you were smiling. He wished he could see it.
“Why do you call me your star?” you asked him, your hand falling from his jaw to brush against his hands across your waist. “It’s sweet.”
The Deity took a moment to consider his words, and looked up towards the night sky far above. He had so many things he wished to tell you about his choice of endearment, but struggled to find a way to express them. Eventually, he opted for simple honesty.
“Because, my love, before I had met you, my world only ever consisted of darkness. Confined to a mask, used only as a method of protection against foes of terrible sorts. When not of use, all I endured was a lightless and lonely shadow.” He buried his nose in your hair as he continued to speak, speaking quietly so the others—namely, his previous host—could not hear him. “Until I met you. You, my shining star, became my light—my beacon of guidance—leaving smaller stars in your wake for me to follow. You’ve given me hope for something…far greater than I’d previously thought possible. For that, I shall be forever grateful.”
The Deity took careful notice of your stillness, and leaned to try and get a look at your face. Had he frightened you somehow? He wanted to somehow explain that frightening you was not his intention. The last thing he wanted was to scare you away.
He expected your silence, perhaps not in this context however, but not the sudden strain of movement against his arms around you, as though you were trying to leave. The Deity felt his heart sink, his head feeling oddly heavy on his shoulders, but removed his hands to allow you to go. Even if every muscle in his body longed for you to stay. He would not force you.
He perhaps expected you to run to one of the others, maybe distance yourself from him. If that was your wish, he’d accept it, if somewhat reluctantly. He really didn’t expect you to only turn into him, your arms raising to hug his neck.
“You’re not alone here,” he heard you whisper into his ear, as you hugged him tighter. He didn’t want to move. “I won’t let you be.”
Any doubts clouding his mind cleared way for you, lining your path to his heart with warmth, and the Deity didn’t know how much more he could take before he really scared you away.
You held no shame in your actions, straddling his lap as you held onto his neck, your face buried in the crook of it. Your breath was so warm against his skin, your touch electric. Everything about you clouded his senses, but he’d be the last to wish it away. This was the closest you’d ever brought yourself to him, and the Deity hugged around your back to keep you there as long as he could. Strong arms supported you against him, and if any of the others had anything to say about the display, they kept it to themselves. He’d likely have ignored them anyway.
He had you. You were here, and you weren’t going anywhere. You had his heart in your hands, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit he was weak for you. He longed to have your heart, and he hoped this was a step in the right direction.
That, he thought, would be the greatest treasure imaginable.
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