Amaranth is awoken by the sound of rustling from the far end of the cave. She jerks upright, seemingly just now remembering where it is that she is. She looks around, and notices that her hair is being blown back against the boulder. It's like a current is running circles around the cave, and she gasps as the chains break from her body and she falls forward onto the ground, catching herself with her palms and grimacing as the small rocks and pebbles dig into her skin. She prays that Perthius will at least be merciful with her execution.
She can't move. Her limbs are frozen in place, and whether it is by a supernatural force or her own fear she is none the wiser. Footsteps are echoing around her, and she finally moves to clutch her chest with her hand, trying with all the strength she has left to try and breathe. The sound continues to bounce off of the stone walls, and Amaranth can not tell where they are coming from. Her vision is dark around the edges as she begins to hyperventilate from the fear that decides to cascade down her spine all at once.
"I know my arrival can take quite the toll on a mortal being." A voice echoes, and Amaranth cries out, hearing her own voice for the first time in weeks. It's dry and cracked around the edges. "Try to breathe through it, my dear." The voice continues to echo, and the chain falls from her hips with a loud clash. She feels the weight on her back begin to subside even if it's barely noticeable. The footsteps zero in in front of her, and she watches as feet seem to materialize from the dust that has been unsettled around her. She follows the legs as they join the feet, then the small waist that travels up to broad shoulders. Her veil blows from her face allowing her a decent look at the cat-like eyes staring down at her. His hair is longer than her brother's, barely brushing the tops of his shoulders. Olive skin that is still moving as it's formed around firm muscle.
He crouches down in front of her, watching as her eyes shake as she looks over his sharp features. He reaches out slowly, lifting the veil from her face and pulling it over the back of her head. Amaranth is crying. She doesn't know when she began to cry, but she can feel the searing heat of the tears as they trail down her cheeks.
"P-Please." She whispers, barely recognizing her voice. He cups her cheeks, brushing the tears away with his thumbs. He's dressed in a garment similar to her own but it is in luxurious black, sandals that are wrapped up to his knees. Amaranth notices that the hands holding her face are a gorgeous gold, and she feels a warmth travel through her skin from his palms. She's comforted by the feeling, and the man in front of her sighs softly as he runs a hand through the side of her hair.
"What is your name, child?" He asks, and Amaranth finds herself clinging to his wrist.
"Amaranth Quinton. I'm the King's eldest daughter like you request." She's speaking calmly despite the predicament, and it has to be due to the warmth and honey flowing through her veins from the god's hands. He tilts his head, and she can't believe the god in front of her is frowning.
"I have never requested such a thing." He whispers, in awe at the painting of a woman in front of him. "Is that why you've been chained here?"
Amaranth sits up properly, pulling her flowing gown around her to cover her body as she scoots back to rest against the rock. The man crawls towards her, still looking at her with so much curiosity that it is making her head spin. "You are not Perthius?" She asks quietly, and his eyes widen at the name. He pushes her legs apart, and she can not help but turn away in fear from the implications. Though all he does is sit on his heels between her legs, gazing up and down her body as it trembles in fear against her will.
"Perthius died over two hundred years ago." The man informs her, and she looks back up at him with wide eyes.
"But he's a— "
"God. I know." The man says softly, hands coming to rest on Amaranth's shoulders. The warmth begins to flood through her body again. "I apologize, but you are absolutely freezing and I hate you being so cold." He huffs with a pout, and Amaranth reaches up, brushing the man's hair from his eyes.
"What happened to all of the girls before
me?" Amaranth asks, and the man blinks up at her.
"I do not know. I've just now found you." He answers, and she can't help the sob as it racks through her body. She collapses forward, and the man catches her. Though he is not a man, is he? She's being held, coddled by a powerful god who could kill her and reap the benefits in an instant. She clings to his robes, and he pulls her head to rest in the crook of his neck and shoulder, petting the back of her hair as she continues to cry out into the emptiness of the cave. She is so tired, so hungry and so dehydrated that it almost feels like no tears are left to fall. "Perthius was killed by our father in a fit of rage." The god explains, and she sniffs as the pieces click into place. Her fist tightens in the silk, and he seems to notice the realization she's made. "Yes, I am his brother. My name is Avlan. I believe you know me as the God of The Hunt."
"But I thought Perthius was who blessed our harvest?" Amaranth asks, lifting her head to search Avlan's face, and he's crying. Can gods cry? Apparently so because one is crying in front of her. "Avlan?"
"Perthius was the God of well—he was barely a god." Avlan sighs. "He had tricked some scholars a long time ago that he was the god of harvest, and told them that he required their king's eldest daughter in order to receive his blessing. Though he never did anything with them." Avlan looks around. "I'm assuming the elements got to them." Amaranth can barely keep up as she realizes it was all a lie. Not the gods, no, they're obviously real, but the one they worshiped all this time. The grief that the royal family felt for centuries upon centuries, the daughters who were born to be slaughtered, the women who never got to live or love. All of it was for nothing.
"But we…"
"Had bountiful harvests, yes. I knew what he had done, and I felt indebted to give your people everything he promised them." Avlan then looks around again. "I never knew where he had them brought, though. There was always something sealing them off. I could not…I could not see…" He gets up from where he's holding Amaranth and looks around the cave, then turns back to the princess and leans down, eyes narrowing in on her forehead. "What is this on your forehead?" He asks, and she tries to look up at the soot her brother had streaked across her forehead the day before, going slightly cross eyed in the process.
"I'm not sure." She says, and Avlan collects some of what's left on his finger, rubbing it between his index finger and thumb before bringing it to his lips. "My brother placed it on me before I left."
"Is he a priest?" Avlan asks.
"A knight. My father's right hand." Amaranth answers, and tries to stand on her feet. She almost collapses in the process, and Avlan catches her.
"You're a proper offering." Avlan mutters, and Amaranth is too dizzy to even try and look up at him. Instead resting against Avlan, letting his immortal strength hold her up. "Your brother knew. He knew what to do in order to summon a god here. To summon me here." Avlan runs a hand through her hair.
"Are you going to take me home?"
"I can't. An offering is an offering." Avlan answers, and Amaranth looks up despite the ache behind her eyes. She shakes her head feverishly. "My poor child. I am not going to kill you." Avlan whispers, cupping her face to still her. "You would be no use to me dead." Amaranth does not recognize the god standing in front of her. The previous kind and quiet creature now cold and dark as he stares down at her. It's like upon seeing the symbol sketched onto her forehead awoken something ancient within him.
"Then what are you going to use me for?" She's scared of the question as it leaves her lips, and he pushes more hair away from her face.
"I am going to raise you to be a beautiful vessel. You'll carry children and continue to bless your people for centuries…eons to come." Avlan whispers, thumb swiping at her temples as she cries out in front of him.
We should worship you and the ancestors that came before you. Is the last thing she hears as if her brother is standing right in front of her before she collapses, unconscious to the world and hoping that when she wakes up this was all just a horrible dream. She dreams of the world as it spun around her in the throne room, how her brother looked at her as he dragged his thumb across her forehead.
The world is a cruel place for people like Amaranth, and she was reminded that a god is still a greedy creature when presented with an offering. No matter how sweet or empathetic they try to be. They will never feel the same thing Amaranth feels. The same fear and joy in her veins. What little joy she felt in her short eighteen years of life. While she sleeps she thinks of the life that lays ahead of her. How she will be molded and bred like the cattle she had thought of earlier. How she will be nothing but a machine to produce new gods and goddesses. Would her body even be able to handle the stress from birthing an immortal being? Surely goddesses or gods are the ones that give birth to other gods and goddesses. Avlan spoke clearly, though. The most confident he had been the entire night.
She was to be made into a vessel. To carry children and bless her people for eons to come.
Maybe this is how goddesses are made. By the kindness and charity of the gods. Bullshit. Amaranth doesn't know how she is supposed to escape the heavens, but her eyebrows furrow in her sleep as she thinks of the ways to start. Avlan watches as she sleeps, laying in the bed of the cottage he had found specifically for her. He takes a rag from his side and wipes the mark from her forehead, and notices how her nose twitches at the sensation. Breaking free from the cave was easy enough, a small tap to the rock enough to make it crumble at his feet.
He knows the part of him that tells him what this woman is laying here for. Knows that she was given to him as an offer. A constant source of pleasure and labor, but he also listens to the part of him that was once human for a short amount of time. The part that empathizes with a soul as they were raised and carted off for the sole purpose of his blessing. He thinks sometimes that maybe he should burn the crops to the ground. Remind the kingdom who still has the actual power, but then he remembers that he would never have gotten to meet Amaranth.
He's already quite infatuated with the human as she breathes soundly below him. The way the fabric falls over her body and calls attention to her perky breasts and soft rear. The thick thighs that are hiding the gold between her legs. He can see the peaks of trimmed hair at her pelvis, hand coming to run along her thigh. He should never touch the woman without her permission, but her skin had been so warm before. He should never use women like his brother and father had. Avlan saw Amaranth for what she was. A treasure to be spoiled in riches for all the hard work she will do in the present and future. All it would take is his seed to turn her into a goddess in a sense. All it would take is constant love and cherishing of her to make her something worth fearing. Worth loving by mortals and immortals alike.
His goddess.