Day one.
Ivlis & god!Reader, requested!! Part 2 (iykyk). Angsty, general woe. To my biggest fan!! <33 More to come?
Ivlis had not spoken a word since you'd both traversed through the portal. You surmised there could be multiple reasons why, with one common denominator.
Fear. This could be a dream of his. You could grow tired of him, and throw him back into that wretched place. You could be just as bad as anyone who's ever shown him any sort of interest. Hell, you could even eat him- as far as he's concerned.
All of those, reasonable.
So you try not to feel anything but indifference at the way he immediately shoots himself into a corner, cowering against the wall. You're sure it flickered across your face for a moment, concern. You quickly school any expressions and slowly move your hands up in a placating gesture. "I have no intentions with you." You start, knowing that he probably wouldn't believe you anyway.
"I'm sure you know who I am." Alright, perhaps saying this wasn't the best method of soothing any worry. Recognizing this causes you to furrow your brow, and you notice him flinch just from that action. Why would you, of all gods, help out someone like him? In his eyes, the only sentiment you'd held for other beings was indifference. You feeling anything warmer than that was impossible. Rather, becoming colder and crueler was more likely a possibility.
You mourned the position he was in. Of course, he'd feel that way. You try not to focus on your gnawing conscience, screaming of your inability to think properly today, and instead erase any physical semblance of emotion from your body. You need to appear as impartial as ever for him to feel even the slightest bit of comfort. You're sure he's gone through enough big changes today, he's visibly stressed to all hell.
Instead, "Look around you. You're in my domain. Impartial territory, where no one but me has any power. Do you recall my courts?" He does cast a glance around. You'd teleported the both of you to one of your viewing rooms. It's wide windows taking up an entire side of the room. You had many of these in your home, often choosing to gaze upon your world for hours at a time.
You cherished your belongings. Especially one you'd crafted by hand, so your domain was kept under tender care. A world where all your denizens could bring themselves before your courts, and ask for anything they'd wished. If sensible, you'd grant any number of their wishes.
This was, of course, a reason for shock amongst the other gods. Other higher beings would snarl at the idea of bending to the wills of those lesser than them. You'd like to laugh in their faces, and question the length of their power if simply granting wishes warranted them to be weaker. But even so, you'd have to put up an air of cold indifference to ensure no one tested you.
That couldn't entirely eradicate any whispers of how your world worked, no. Especially from those with tainted and vile lips, such as Satanick. So you're sure that Ivlis knew. At the flicker of recognition that crossed his eyes, your theory was confirmed. His stiffened figure relaxed slightly, and he seemed to lean almost imperceptibly against the wall.
That progress, as miniscule as it was, felt like a triumph. Feeling lighter, you turned your back. A pause, to test how volatile he was. He could try and lunge for you, sure, or demonstrate his intelligence in not attacking a god. Either way, it's not as if you'd get hurt. Irritated, sure, but his case of violence was understandable.
He didn't go for it. You allowed yourself a hidden smile before continuing your way to a side room, a small kitchen area with snacks and drinks. You get started on some tea, thinking he could do with something relaxing. Halfway through, you stop and question if he'd even take it.
He might think it's laced with something, or you're out to poison him. You grimace, frowning down at the boiling water before shaking your head. You'll bring a second cup, and pour out of the same pot. Perhaps that'll be enough to ail any worries he has.
Grabbing everything you think you'd need, you take a moment to collect yourself. This is the decision you've made, and you'll have to endure whatever consequence comes of it. None of the other beings would dare trespass in your territory, not for the moment. When Satanick comes to them bawling about his latest toy being taken, due to your behavior for the last millennia, they'll doubt that you're the real perpetrator.
Stepping back into the room, you notice he's still in the same spot as before. You don't bother with bringing any attention to it, and instead step over to a table. Placing everything down, you walk over to the other side and pull out a chair. You give him a glance, waiting until he meets your eyes to move on. Then, you go back over to your side and take a seat.
You pour yourself some tea, leaning back and taking a sip. It's only when you're on your third cup that Ivlis takes a step towards his designated seat. You don't pay him any mind, keeping your eyes on the table. It's over a span of 30 minutes that he makes his way over, his steps starting out incredibly light, then ending up firm and purposely loud. As if he's gaining the confidence to ask with his actions, if he's really allowed to sit before you.
You couldn't imagine a being so prideful and scathing to stoop as low as to ask things with his body language. But here he was. And here you were, feeling pity for every action he takes. Vile, you remind yourself. He was once vile.
You grit your teeth, lost in your own thoughts as the drag of a chair pulls you back to attention. You still don't look up, giving him the choice to sit or make himself absent. No pressure, you repeat in your mind. No pressure, you try and scream with your body language.
He finally sits down.
You slowly, quietly, reach out and pour him a cup. You set it beside the pot, giving him the option to take it. He does. Small victories. He seems to stare at it for a few minutes, contemplating whatever is going around in that head of his. Five, ten, twenty minutes. The almost imperceptible sound of a sip. You allowed yourself a gaze upward.
Okay, woah, his eyes are almost slitted. An incredibly intense stare, seeming to reach into the depths of your soul. You don't speak, don't challenge his gaze with your own. Don't pay any mind to how his widened eyes reminded you of prey, fearfully studying a predator. Waiting for them to strike.
'Were you ever familiar with softness?' You wanted to ask. 'Were you ever comforted, as innocent as a child? What did you have? What did you lack? All of it, what led to this. What was it? How did it feel?' Never would you question it out loud, never would you pay him that pitying, comforting gaze. You try to ignore the soft coo of the word, 'Hopefully.'
You haven't had sensible thoughts lately, nonetheless actions. Hadn't you already done all that you said you wouldn't do?
Divinity was about contradictions, apparently.
Rip the bandaid off. Go on, do it. You sigh inaudibly, pushing air through your nose. You notice he stirs at this, undoubtedly watching your every move. You tilt your gaze up, giving him as much honesty as you could muster.
"You won't be able to go back." Unsurprisingly, he only stares numbly. No argument, no 'I'd never want to go back anyway,' no 'You can't tell me what to do.' Even though you'd expected no struggle, for that to have been beat out of him ages ago, it still makes you grit your teeth.
You continue, the silence filling the air festering like an open wound. "You'll have freedom here, the option to do whatever you'd like within reason." A tiny downward twitch of his brows, likely wanting clarification. "You may not hurt yourself, or any denizens of my world. Intruders? Sure. But none of mine."
You didn't bother to keep a civil tone when saying this, being aware of his past actions. He needed to understand that you'd have no leniency with any cruelty that possibly remains within his being. He doesn't nod, doesn't respond, but you know he has processed every bit of what you've said. Overthought it, rolled it around his brain a billion times- searching for any hidden meaning, any subtle suggestion that you wanted to hurt him.
You let him mull it over. His eyes are so empty, you can particularly see the thoughts ping around in them. The glazed over defeated look brought painful thoughts to the forefront of your head, and you had to will yourself to keep eye contact. You'd thought the idea of freedom might have brought some light to his eyes, but you guessed he didn't trust it.
Maybe with time he would. (Are you really putting more time towards this? You're a fucking idiot.)
"Until you have recovered from your injuries, and are fit to be on your own again, I'd like you to stay under my protection. My home will house you, but my people will not tend to you. I'll oversee your wellbeing, make your meals, and doctor you." You couldn't risk him lashing out at one of your people. Think of it as a punishment. You'd look after him dutifully, at the sacrifice of your own time and wellbeing. Suits you right, for becoming so stupid.
He doesn't resist. When has he been allowed to in the last few eras? The idea is probably foreign to him. You feel bile tickle the back of your throat. When did you get so weak? What about him makes you cave?
You nod at him. (At yourself). You don't move your gaze from him, but let it stray to his hair (matted and unkempt). Never lower, never at his body. You're sure he'd flee. The idea of him doing so, from you, makes you cold. What would be the point, anyway? To look at the bruises engraved in his flesh? To see the length of abuse he has endured? Everyone knows. Everyone has seen.
Why did nobody do anything? (Why didn't you do anything till now?) It swims in your head. It swims.
"I'll keep you safe." It's whispered, like a secret. Just between the two of you. A shared guilt.
I'll help you, but the second you do something to earn another stain against your soul, I'll put you down. For my sake. You can't say it, but you're sure he understands. This is selfish, all of it. You'll help him to feel better about yourself. To absolve you. Nothing else, nothing more. You can't look him in the eyes anymore.
You reach over and pour him a cup, before standing. He jerks back, wide eyes fixated. Always on you. Never looking away. Does he never consider that there could be a second person, lurking behind? You bite your tongue.
You collect everything, intending on taking it all back to the sideroom. Ten steps, and you notice you're being shadowed. You don't stop, don't falter, just keep making your way forward. He follows you, albeit at a distance.
When you get there, you notice he stops at the doorway, as if asking for permission to enter. Pausing at the sink, you turn to him and nod before placing the dishes down. He doesn't make a move. Maybe he doesn't trust anything but verbal affirmation? "You're allowed to follow me, unless stated otherwise."
Never one to answer you, he takes a tentative step inside. "I'll lead you to your room." He perks up a little at this. Did he not think he'd have his own place to stay? He quickly stiffens once more. Maybe he thinks it'll end up being a dungeon? You huff.
Taking a step to the opposite side of the room, you wave for him to follow. You're in one of the wings that'll likely come to his frequent use during his stay. The kitchenette and viewing room becoming commonplace to him. You'll be sure to keep him to familiar rooms at first, that way it'll bring him more comfort.
But first? He needs to tend to those wounds and rest. You'll make him some soup while he busies himself with that. You'd offer to heal him, but you're sure any hands coming too close to his body would lead to panic. Understandable.
The few hallways it takes to find his designated room feel like eternity, the silence extending till your arrival. You open the door, and step inside first. You're sure he'd appreciate not having anyone come up behind him.
It's a lavish room, built for a god like yourself. (Maybe too good for him). A perfect place to recover in. It's light, not filled with any dreary colors. Nothing like what you're sure he resided in before. You wait till he steps in, and expect him to look around the room.
Nope.
He refuses to look away from you.
That's alright, you're sure he'll have plenty of time to look around once you leave him alone. You meet his eyes, and take a moment to chant a protection spell. One you're sure he'll recognize. 'May no harm come to anyone within this room'. A little bit of a double edged sword for the both of you, neither will be able to attack the other. However, it also ensures you'll both be safe from harm.
You'll be sure to secretly enchant the outside with a spell that only allows the two of you within this room, in case anyone decides to intrude.
Once that's over with, you slowly make your way towards the bathroom. Opening it up, you flick the light on, letting him view the inside. Letting him view you. You kneel down, and riffle through the lower cabinet. At finding what you're looking for, you make your way over to the bed, setting it down. You then step away, and usher towards it.
"Medical kit. It has vials of components you can use to mix any potions you'd need to revitalize yourself. As well as sterilization, and wrapping material." There'd be no need in telling him to use it wisely. Another thought dances across those eyes of his, it might be more suspicion. However, you don't bother with it.
You begin to make your way out the door, to seek some food for the two of you. Soup, likely. It'll be easier for him to consume.
The sideroom is as you've left it, and you begin to prepare a simple meal: just some chicken soup. You allow yourself a dry chuckle at the thought of him getting any sort of nostalgia from this. As if anyone who's ever looked after him, cared for him enough to prepare him a meal. Without stipulations. If you keep grinding your teeth, they'll be turned into dust.
It takes about 15 minutes for everything to be done, and you're sure by now he'd have wrapped himself tight. In bandages, maybe not in the comforter. After he's eaten, and you've left for a good amount of time, maybe he'll seek some sort of rest.
With a sigh, you get to delivering him his meal. You knock before entering, and once you're at least sure he's heard, you slowly crack open the door. You decide to verbally announce your entrance, too. "I'm coming in!"
The door opens to reveal him standing, not too far from the bed, as if he'd just been sitting. A shame. You nod to him, and at a slow pace make your way to the bedside table. He doesn't move an inch. You place the bowl and silverware down, before backing up a sizable distance. "Chicken soup."
You're sure he could identify it by scent, but it never hurts to clarify. You still have your own meal in another hand, and you decide to sit down in the middle of the floor. You'll eat in front of him, just as you did with the tea. (Why do you care so much about his comfort?) It doesn't take you long to finish your half. You even tilted the bowl down into your mouth, making sure all the broth didn't go to waste.
You dabble your mouth with a napkin, and consider simply teleporting all the dishes to the kitchen. It'd be easy, with just a flick of your finger. But then, maybe he'd think it was all an illusion. Something conjured, something dispelled. There's no telling how paranoid he'd be. You try not to grumble as you sit up and gather everything. You'd at least wait till you're out of sight before using your powers for laziness.
You take a few steps before pausing, "I'm going to head to bed. You can summon me by ringing this." You manifest a bell, linking its matter to your own. If rung, it'd feel like a pinch. You'd notice immediately.
You set it down by the door, sure he'd move it to where he pleased. He'll be fine, you say to yourself. No jumping out of the window, no seeking to..... Dispatch himself. Nothing. He'll be back where you left him, rested and bandaged. Somehow this mattered to you.
"Goodnight." You're not sure if he heard, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You close the door behind you, and get to work enchanting it. Once that's over with, you teleport yourself directly into your bed.
You drag your palms down your face, a groan surfacing. You're an idiot. You're such a fucking idiot. Whatever. You turn over, feeling your pillow tickle the side of your face. Whatever. It's too late to change anything.
This is it. It's your fault, now.
Day one with Ivlis wasn't too bad, huh? At least he didn't try to kill you. As if he could.
You're so fucked.
At request, I have returned to it! I'll probably make a part 3, I'm sort of invested in my own storyline of taking someone you detest under your care out of moral pain and suffering. Ivlis.... I see u, Ivlis..... He's so pitiful and sad. I hope u enjoyed!!! <3 let me know what u think.. I wanted to do a day one scenario- consequences of ur actions before. It went better than it could have!
