#all that honestly changes is the voices + the lamb's horns are a little more thin | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

monstersandmaw · 7 years ago

Note

Some submissive monsters pleeaassseee any kind really just sweet and doting and sub I’m begging you

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Have nearly 3000 words of powerful yet submissive alien. I hope this suits? Sorry I sat on it for a while - I hope you remember asking for it…

NSFW, with a little warning for brief mention of needles and wounds.

___

You encountered more kinds of xeno-anatomy in your first sixmonths aboard the ship than you’d seen in your whole six years of med schoolback on Earth. This was an alliance battle cruiser, so you had a regular stream of everyshape and size of soldier imaginable coming through the med bay.

The ship’s doctor, Maehve, was a seven foot tall J’Hantahriwho brooked no nonsense when it came to her med bay. It tended to keep thenewer recruits from going there on a whim to get out of training exercises, andsoldiers who had a firm hand tended to sit still long enough to get patched up.

Maehve had four stomachs and you suspected that all of themwere made of iron, because you’d never seen her so much as flinch as shetreated detached shells, torn limbs, shattered horns, acid-spit burns, rupturedthese and broken those. She also liked to boss you around, which grated. Youached to be the one giving orders for a change, but with your rank, the chancesof that were lower than your chances of finding a decent chocolate bar on board.

One sol, the First Officer himself was brought into the medbay with a huge blaster wound in his ribcage. Apparently a mission to a hostileplanet for negotiations had failed and they’d barely made it out at all.

The hulking Kharmorian was even taller than Maehve, and hewas twice as wide. His skin was black as ink, and covered in microscopic flecksof pearly white, like stars in the endless view from the observation deck. Sixeyes, arranged three on each side of his head, glared out from a flat face,with slit nostrils that flared occasionally as his pain mounted. Thick, viscousdrool was occasionally known to slip from a mouth that was full of razor sharpteeth, cylindrical, transparent, and gleaming like polished crystal, and hisjaw unhinged to gape wide enough to swallow your entire head whole if he wasreally in a rage. Or in the canteen after a workout.

In short, he was nine foot of pure muscle, and rumour had ithis saliva was poisonous. But that might just have been his temper.

And here he was, cursing in his guttural, native Kharmorian,and looking like he was about to try and eat Maehve whole, her chitinousplating be damned. Inadvisable, youthought with a smile.

His muscles were gorgeous as he gripped the edge of thestretcher, snapping and snarling as Maehve lowered her mandibled face towardthe wound and chittered angrily before prodding carefully with one of her morehumanoid hands. She had a lot of hands.

He hissed at her, and as his mouth opened, you saw the hugeteeth, transparent and beautiful in the harsh light of the med bay. He had two tongues, you discovered, biting yourlip to keep from smiling. He was really very beautiful, if… intimidating.

“Don’t you dare take that tone with me,” Maehve rattled,utterly unfazed by his display, her dry voice full of command.

To your astonishment, the massive First Officer went utterlystill. His torso was still clenched, however, and Maehve twitched her head likea mantis. She cuffed him on the side of his head. She actually cuffed the First Officer as though hewere no more than a disobedient child to be disciplined.

“Lie back down. Don’t move.”

Again, an almost imperceptible shiver ran through him, andhe went slack on the gurney.

“Good.”

His legs, thick and muscular and speckled with morepearlescent white dots, shook and he tipped his head back, all six of his eyesclosing.

Interesting.

His name was Ornorx, and he stayed in the med bay for aweek. During that time it was your job as Maehve’s assistant to care for him,to change his bandages, and to give him his injections to ward off infection.Kharmorians, you discovered, had very tough outer skin, but once it wasdamaged, they were surprisingly vulnerable to foreign pathogens.

At first, he was every bit as aggressive and terrifying ashis reputation suggested he would be.

You knocked on his door before entering the little room setaside for him, and he immediately began to growl. The low rumble of it filledthe room, resonating strangely in your ears as though there was an additionalmuch lower frequency that you could barely hear. Perhaps there was.

“Don’t think I’m going to let you anywhere near me, human,”he snarled, saliva thick on his teeth as he opened his mouth.

“Don’t think I’m so easily intimidated, First Officer Ornorx,”you said tartly, hoping you sounded a lot braver than you felt.

He opened that disconcerting jaw at you then, as wide as itwould go, and hissed and screeched softly.

“Stop that. And lie down, or you’ll undo all Maehve’s hardwork,” you barked, trying your best to imitate the tone of voice the J’Hantahridoctor had used with him when he’d first been brought in.

To your astonishment, his teeth clacked shut and he lay backdown on the bed, meek as a lamb.

“Good,” you said, recalling another detail of that firstencounter. And exactly as expected, a shudder ran through him. “Very good,” you purred softly as youapproached with the fresh dressings.

He looked up at you then, an odd light in his six eyes.

You smiled down at him, soft, rewarding, but with a hint of somethingelse. You liked this. You liked having someone as powerful as him givethemselves to your control. You were growing hot between the legs just thinkingof it. Oh shit. Not now.

He made to sit up then, and without thinking you shot out a handand pressed it into his hard chest. He had ridges of bone and muscle that werevery obviously different from your own anatomy, but at the lightest pressurefrom your splayed fingertips, he sank back down.

“Stay there,” you said in an even, rich voice. “Don’t movewhile I do this.”

Again, he shuddered, and you smiled.

You developed a pattern after that; a kind of dance betweenthe two of you. The moment you entered the room, he would snarl at you, fangsdripping, jaw unhinging, two tongues laving along his sharp teeth, in a displayof power and threat.

On his last sol in the med bay, you tried something new.Instead of speaking to him after his usual snarls, you simply cocked aneyebrow.

He twitched his head at that and went still, keeping all sixof his eyes on you, like a predator in a cage.

He looked massive onthe tiny med bay bed, his taloned feet sticking out from under the sheet, hishuge shoulders rippling with tightly corded muscle. Honestly, he really didlook like a predator, ready to spring from his lair and devour you. You wantedto feel those tongues on your body. You’d brought yourself to completion, everynight since he’d been brought in, thinking about both those tongues workingacross your skin while you stood over him, a collar around his neck and a ropein your hand.

You’d seen a sweeter side of him too. You’d been doingcombat training as well to bolster your skills, and had taken a viciousbackhand to the face from an armour-plated Anjari, and the bruise had spreadacross your cheekbone and eye-socket to leave a tender welt. The moment he’dseen it, he’d tilted his head to one side and asked you who’d hurt you.

You’d brushed it off, but if you’d said you hadn’t added hisconcerned expression to your mental picture of him desperately trying to pleaseyou while you teased and dominated the living daylights out of him, well… you’dhave been lying.

Having cocked one eyebrow at him, having not opened yourmouth, having not deigned to look at him longer than a heartbeat or two, yousighed and set down the tray of dressings and syringes on the far side of theroom. You pretended to check your coms device, idly running your thumb over thescreen, feigning interest in some old messages in your inbox.

You could feel himwatching you.

“Something more interesting than me?” he snarled.

“Be with you in a moment,” you commented without looking up.

He growled again, that oddly resonant sound that made heatcoil in your groin. You longed to tell him to make that sound again, just foryou, but you kept scrolling.

Then, to your astonishment, the growl changed timbre. Itrose, finishing in a desperate, if extremely short, whine. You looked at himthen.

Were the little pearlescent pin-pricks on his skin glowing?He had a few on his cheekbones, forming two perfect little half moons under hiseyes, and you’d definitely never noticed them before. His skin was so black itseemed to absorb all light. It was truly beautiful.

He was no longer looking at you, his eyes focused on theceiling, body rigid, as though with embarrassment.

You inhaled slowly, as though displeased, and slid your comunit back into your pocket. “Impatient, are we, First Officer?” you drawled.

Coming to a halt beside his bunk, you stared at him, onehand on your hip, the other holding the tray like a cocktail waitress.

“Miss my touch that much, did we?”

He didn’t even have it in him to growl at you this time. He justlicked his lips and stared back at you. You’d been sounding him out all week,and you were now almost 100% sure he wanted this.

One final test, just to be sure.

You held your tongue for a moment, wondering. You could getkicked off the ship for this. If you were wrong, you could be sent back toEarth in disgrace. But what was life without a little risk?

You began to prep his dressings, but when you were done, youheld the scissors out in front of his mouth and said, “Hold these.”

Unquestioningly, his mouth opened and he wrapped bothtongues around the closed blades of the scissors, drawing them down to restbetween his teeth. His eyes never left your face. His clawed hands nevertwitched.

“Good,” you smiled. Dareyou do it? “Good boy.”

He whined at that and closed his eyes. Drool began to leakfrom the corner of his wide mouth in a way that made you think of ball gags.

You leaned close to his face and put a hand on his smooth,cool chest. His two sets of lungs weren’t enough to help him draw in breath asyou whispered, “Now… Don’t move. But tell me if this hurts too much.”

A huge, shivering tremble rippled through his enormous body.One of his two thick, black tongues uncurled from the scissors in his mouth andhe tried to mop the saliva from his lips as it dribbled down his chin to hisneck.

“Leave that,” you scoffed, and the tongue stopped. “I toldyou not to move.”

It was as you looked down and lifted the covers just enoughto reveal his wounded side that you saw the sizable tent in the sheets furtherdown his body.

His breath was wheezing now, like a horse run too hard fortoo long, and you stared at the hard ridges at the base of his neck. Hissecondary nostrils, connecting directly to the secondary lungs, had opened,something you’d never seen before. He was more desperate than he was lettingon.

In a smooth motion you slid the sheet all the way back and heldyour breath. He was completely naked beneath the covers. Your eyes didn’tlinger, though it was unbelievably hard to tear your eyes away from the two, ridged cocks that had slipped out froma slit in his lower abdomen, both dripping with white fluid, one slightlylarger than the other.

Deliberately, you ignored them as best you could, andfocused on dealing with the wound. It was almost healed, and didn’t really needthe dressing you were about to apply. “Keep still,” you murmured, pressing ahand on his torso, between the wound and those two weeping cocks. They squirmedslightly as your fingers splayed across his skin; flexible and muscular, theywere very beautiful. He was fightinghard to retain his composure.

“This might hurt,” you smiled, readying the syringe. Youlowered the needle to the ragged edges of the blaster wound, and when you hadlined it up, just pricking the skin, you turned your eyes to find his alreadylocked on you. “Don’t. Look. Away.”

He nodded and his cocks both twitched, writhing now withmore intensity, white liquid leaking down their length and pooling on thatmidnight skin of his. The pinpricks of white all over his skin began to glownow. As you emptied the syringe into him and pulled it away, you smiled. “Verygood. You didn’t move at all.”

Then he let out a low whine that disintegrated into a raggedsigh.

Saliva had run down his face and soaked into the pillowbeneath his head, and you moved your fingers slowly up to take the scissorsfrom between his teeth. “Give me those.”

He released them instantly, his two tongues working aroundhis mouth to clean himself up. You decided to let him this time.

“Two tongues, two cocks,” you chuckled. “You reallyare full of surprises, aren’t you, First Officer Ornorx?”

“You have no idea,” he panted.

You smiled. You certainly had some idea by now. “Well, perhaps when you’re all healed up, you canshow me what else you’ve been keeping from me,” you said.

As you pulled the sheet back up his body, you deliberatelyskimmed your fingertips torturously over his two cocks and his entire bodylurched wildly.

A cry left his lips before he could stop it. “If you so muchas breathe a word…” he hissed, chest heaving, eyes rammed shut.

You turned to face him then and traced your fingers over thehalf moons on his cheekbones as tenderly as you could. “I’d never hurt you likethat,” you smiled before crossing to the door of his room. He whimpered desperatelyas you turned your back on him.

At the threshold you paused and looked over your shoulder.He was staring at you hungrily, mouth open, drooling softly again, one handalready under the covers, moving slowly.

“I’ll make sure you’re not disturbed for a while either,”you said, by way of giving him permission, and he jutted his chin to theceiling. “Try not to move too muchthough. Don’t want you undoing all my hard work. Understood?”

He grunted something softly, hand working his cocks harderbeneath the sheet.

“First Officer?” Your tone wouldn’t have been out of placeon the bridge.

“Understood,” he rasped.

“Good.”

And with just that one word, he came.

It was three sols later that you heard the knock at yourcabin door.

Opening it, you saw nothing but darkness, pricked withpoints of light. Casting your eyes upwards, you found a familiar face toweringover you. He said nothing. All six eyes stared at you with an unreadableexpression.

“Yes?” you asked coyly.

He stood there a moment longer, and for a second you thoughthe was on the point of leaving. But then he opened his mouth to reveal thosestrange and beautiful teeth. “Please?” he hissed, loud enough for only you tohear. “I can’t stop thinking about you. About… About what you did… for me… I…”he swallowed thickly.

Without a word, you stepped aside and held the door open.

He moved into your cabin and turned and stared at you. Thebruise on your cheek had a matching cut now and he brought his fingers to yourface. “You’re hurt?”

“Give me something to take my mind off it,” you smirked.“Let’s lay down some rules. The sooner we get started, the sooner you can makeme forget about that. Deal?”

“Deal.”

That wouldn’t be the first time the First Officer would findhimself on his knees, his body bound, cocks exposed and leaking, his dangerousmouth gagged and drooling, his muscles shaking, while you stood over him. Hewould come to you after training drills, after difficult meetings, afterdangerous missions. First he would see to his crew, and then he would come toyou, desperate for you to take his mind elsewhere.

The time he returned from a mission that nearly cost four ofhis team their lives, he came untouched, painting that incredible torso of hiswhite with the release of both cocks in under ten minutes. He’d also taken along time to come down after that. But with your gentle ministrationsafterwards, he did. That was the first time he told you he loved you.

What you loved most about him was the fact that someone sopowerful, who terrified all kinds of living fluid out of his crew just bylooking at them, could be so beautiful and gentle and soft, with his head inyour lap after one of your scenes.

You smiled as he purred sonorously, spent, exhausted, andutterly mellow, while you traced lines over his smooth skin and watched thosepoints of light dance and flare beneath your skating touch.

Masterlist

#alien #alien sex #monster #monster story #monster x reader #ask me #monster ask #male alien #male monster x reader #alien x reader #my writing

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timeflowedbackwardscotlau · 2 years ago

Text

Chapter 1: An Awakening

When Five were Five and Time was One, The Fifth gave a gift to his siblings dear. An eternal gift to each, a precious thing made everlasting.

And each gift, was taken, when Five became Four and Time became nothing. A symphony of tragedy marred Four forever.

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Verdandi felt the familiar tug and pull of a summon, her spirit funnelled and forced into a corporeal form.

Light blinded her as she was pulled from her wanderings to stand on shaky legs. She gasped as she took her first breath in centuries and squeezed her eyes shut.

“This is a terrible idea,” A voice somewhere in front of her said gruffly. “That thing is nothing but trouble you damn lamb!”

“Like you were trouble Narinder? ” someone else shot back as a hand reached out to help Verdandi steady herself. “I already told you, I’m doing this whether you want me to or not.”

“You want to meddle with time!” Naridner huffed. “You’re only asking for trouble.”

Anger bubbled to the surface, hot and fast, as her tail, the body and head of a snake, hissed angrily in Narinder’s direction.

She opened her eyes to see a small settlement in the confines of what was once a temple. She was standing on some sort of stone dais, a temple to her right and a small street of houses to her left.

Her gaze settled on the black cat that had spoken.

She was angry, but…she had been revived, restored once more to her flesh and blood form. The body of a fox, the horns and legs of a goat, and the tail of snake. As she had been, always been, before…everything had gone so horribly wrong.

She would refuse to give the traitor the time of day.

She shot a glare at Narinder, and turned her attention to how she’d been summoned, more than little curious as to how it had been pulled off when she was certain knowledge of her was so sparse.

And anger, no matter how justified, would not help her now.

There at her feet, was a bundle of herbs and flowers, a trio of candles lit around them. It was all… correct.

The three candles, representative of herself and her two sisters. The flowers, symbolic of her power as a god of the here and now, the potential for change, for possibilities.

“Um...excuse me?”

She looked up to see her summoner, she honestly wasn’t all that surprised to see it was The Last Lamb that had brought her back. She had watched The Lamb grow into their godhood, lead their fledgling society, and found their politeness rather amusing.

“Y—” she cleared her throat, somewhat startled by her own voice. “Yes?”

“You are Verdandi, yes?” The Lamb asked. “Goddess of time and mortal potential?”

She was very amused by the young god. “I am indeed, and I presume you have a reason for calling upon me?”

Narinder grumbled something but The Last Lamb continued regardless. They pulled a familiar, old journal from the confines of their robes. “…I was exploring Silk Cradle, when I discovered this,” they looked determined as they spoke. “I wanted to learn more of those I had slain, of how their cults worked so I might strengthen my own.”

“And what conclusion have you come to?” Verdandi asked patiently.

“That there is information I am lacking, and that you might be able to fill in those gaps in my knowledge,” The Lamb answered honestly. “I want to learn, I want to do better than my predecessors.”

It was a noble goal. But the world as it was now…

Verdandi took a deep breath to gather her thoughts, the possibilities, and ways this conversation could play out dancing in the corner of her eyes. She could guide The Lamb, make up for her mistakes, but ultimately to no avail as the land spirals further into stagnation and decay.

She could refuse, The Lamb would accept her choice and let her go on her way. But what would be the point? Her friends were gone, her sisters too busy with their own duties to spare her the time of day. This was her mess to clean up. The blame, if only in part, still lied with her after all.

She could have tried harder to prevent all of this…but failed. Thus was the double-edged sword that was her glimpses into choices, into the multitude of possibilities.

“Your dedication is admirable, and if I could guide you to repair this land, I would…” Verdandi said. “But the land is akin to an infected wound left to fester for far too long. Treatment is impossible. There is nothing that can be done.”

As she spoke, The Lamb’s face turned from determined hope to disbelief. She bowed her head in respect.

“You have my condolences, fledgling god, you have lost much due to the machinations and desperations from those that came before you.”

The Last Lamb looked taken aback by her sympathy and they turned their gaze to the pouting cat by their side.

“Did you know?” They asked him.

“Of course I did!” Narinder snapped. “Were it not for you, I would have claimed the next age as mine!”

“So that was your plan, your avarice grown far beyond what the balance of things could handle, would break the world and you would claim what remains as The Old Faith dies and you stand upon a kingdom made from the corpses of your siblings,” Verdandi stated with disgust. “And to think, I once thought your wants and will to change could be shaped to work within the boundaries that keep this world in motion…”

The Lamb perked up at her admittance. “How would that work?”

She grew tired of standing and walked off the dais and sat down in the soft grass. How long had it been since she had felt the soil beneath her hooves? The wind on her face?

The Lamb joined her, Narinder huffing in clear annoyance as he stood beside the young god and listened to their conversation.

“You have the power to resurrect those who die, that could be integrated into The Cycle as a new interpretation of death, anchored to reality by the gods who hold such power,” she explained. “Small things that are gradually implemented so as not to disturb the integrity of The Cycle.”

The Lamb nodded. “Makes sense…So, we can’t do this now?”

“If only…” Verdandi sighed. “The Bishops acted as anchors, pillars of their respective domains. Without them, Chaos, Famine, Pestilence, War and Madness run amok until they have run their course and either fade away, or new gods take up their roles.”

“I could!” The Lamb suggested.

“And struggle under the many aspects that such domains naturally involve?” Verdandi pointed out. “You would be torn between the many different duties, the many facets that you would have to both maintain and represent.”

“So what can I do?” The Last Lamb said in frustration. “I’ve lost everyone I’ve ever cared for! I’ve sacrificed my life, my wants and desires, my very name for this!”

They looked tired, lost, the weight of the red crown seemingly heavy upon their brow.

“All you can do is decide what sort of god you wish to be, what domain of the next age will you embody when this one finally fades away.” Verdandi said gently.

“I told you this was pointless, foolish lamb…” Narinder grumbled. “You cannot change what has already been done.”

The Last Lamb looked at him.

Verdandi looked at him.

Narinder scowled at them both.

“What?”

And thus, a new possibility presented itself to her mind’s eye.

“The land broken beyond repair. And what was once impossible, now is,” Verdandi mused. “If death can be made to flow backwards, then so too, can time.”

Narinder scoffed at her. “You’ve been dead for centuries, your faith, your power, is gone. You are nothing more than a monstrous witch from a dead age.”

“And whose fault is that, I wonder?” Verdandi snapped back, teeth bared. “My power may be lost, but it can be regained.”

“Bah, the only faith left is the faith of this fool of a lamb,” Narinder argued, a malicious grin on his face. “Unless you wish to bind yourself to The Lamb in the same way you did to my sibling…”

“Need I remind you that my binding to Shamura was a necessity that I was happy to do,” Verdandi said sternly. “They were a dear friend and our domains overlapped.”

Narinder sneered at her.

The Lamb spoke up, hesitant. “Could you prevent all of this, if you had the power?”

“What? No—Don’t you dare!” Narinder exclaimed and made to grab The Lamb. But the young god was faster, they leapt to their feet, the red crown morphed into a blade that they pointed at his throat.

Verdandi had born witness to how things had degraded to this point, to when the bishops had begun to slide towards stagnation to preserve their power, to The Lamb’s people had been rounded up for slaughter.

She knew exactly where and when the best point to go back to, to heal the damage caused by Narinder’s rebellion.

A plan, simple as it was, started to form. She could, if she had the power, go back to a time before the bishops had fallen so far, before the culling of sheep.

Around the time Kallamar would take his first consort, before one of the grand ceremonies when all bishops would be present. She would sneak into Silk Cradle and try to reach Shamura.

She would not be able to heal the wounds inflicted by Narinder, but she could restore Shamura’s sanity and rebuild Silk Cradle to what it once was.

And with her friend returned, together they could parse out what must and must not be as the two of them averted the prophecy and paved the way for restructuring the Old Faith.

A new age born of change rather than destruction of what came before.

“Could you?” The Last Lamb asked again, blade still pointed at Narinder’s throat.

Another thought presented itself, another possibility.

“Why not take what little power I have and go back yourself?” She asked.

They shook their head.

“I…don’t think I can keep doing this,” they admitted. “I can barely keep things from falling apart as it is, it feels as if the slightest misstep will cause my cult to crumble, cause the people to lose faith…I’ve given up so much just to reach where I am now…I don’t think I can do it again.”

They eyed Narinder warily, the cat backed off with a muttered insult towards the young god, and the red crown returned to The Lamb’s head.

“As you can see,” they said, voice weary. “I don’t exactly have as strong a grasp on things as I would like.”

They motioned her to follow them and led her into the temple. She stood and cautiously followed. She had little choice as they were far stronger than her, regardless of how experienced in combat she was, the power of a crowned god, fresh with devotion, would overpower the old ways that had long since been gone from the land.

The two of them stood in the middle of the room, light poured in from the windows, and the hustle and bustle of the daily lives of the cultists faded into the background.

The Last Lamb observed her, searching for something as they stood before her.

“Were I to change things, you would have no memory of this.” Verdandi pointed out.

“But my people would be alive,” they reasoned. “There would be no strife, no conflict, you would bring stability to The Old Faith, correct?”

She nodded. Though there was still one loose end to worry about. “And what of Narinder? I doubt he will be willing to restrict himself even if meant his freedom…”

“I don’t think it’s fair for him to be imprisoned forever.” The Lamb stated.

Verdandi nodded in agreement. “He must be reformed, made to understand that what he wants could be achieved gradually.”

The Lamb looked thoughtful. “Maybe…Maybe after things get better, he'll come around.”

“Once things are stabilized, I could suggest reformation for him, to bring him back into the fold,” She agreed. “Yet, to achieve any of this, I would need the power to go back in the first place.”

The Lamb lifted their crown from their head and held it in their hands. They focused on it as if seeing all that it meant for the first time since they acquired it.

And Verdandi could see the choices that lay before them.

“I will not kill you, nor take your godhood by force,” she reassured them. “You need not worry if the power is given freely.”

They looked up at her, confused. “But Narinder…?”

“Narinder desired your full power, young one. Everything that you had culminated since he passed the crown to you,” she clarified. “But godhood can be given just as much as it can be taken, though few are willing to do so, it would not result in the death of the one giving up their power.”

They looked back down their crown, the symbol, the anchor of their godhood.

“And I won’t remember?” they asked.

She hummed. “You might, you might not. I could make you remember, a curse across the threads of time, and the price to pay for my assistance…” That anger at Narinder remained still, and a small part of her wanted revenge, justice, for Shamura’s death. But that would not be fair to the fledgling god, nor to those that had been slain. “But what good is punishing one for a crime they have yet to commit?”

“Huh?”

“You killed my best friend,” Verdandi said plainly. “…Were our levels of power reversed, I would find it difficult to not want to punish you in some fashion…”

They winced. They knew she was right. They would do the same thing were they in her place.

They had killed those that had slain their people after all.

“But…I will undo the crimes made to us both, and leave the choice of remembrance up to you, young one.” She conceded. “The lives of your people, and my dearest companions, in exchange for your godhood.”

“I don’t want to remember,” they replied. “Not all the death, the pain…losing everything that I am just to fulfil some stupid prophecy…”

Resolve and determination returned to their gaze as they offered the red crown to her.

“Bring back my people, stop all of this, and let me live my life in peace…and I’ll accept this last, final death.”

A loss of memory was a kind of death she supposed. They would not be the same being they were in this time. Verdandi caught a glimpse of a studious, curious devout that would one day cross paths with her in the age she sought to build.

A Lamb that was happy, free to be themselves, and no longer weighed down by the countless deaths, the duty, and bloodshed of their path to godhood.

“Then I would like to make your acquaintance again in the next age, young one.” She said kindly and bowed her head so they could place the crown between her dull-gold goat horns.

The passing of the crown was ceremonial, its power would be absorbed by the clear gem on her forehead.

The crown was gently placed upon her head and its power flowed into her. The thread of time, shimmering with limitless power, unveiled itself and wrapped around her wrist.

The Law of Cycles was broken, the very nature of the world needed repair, and she wound the thread around her wrist as if she herself was its spool.

The temple, The Lamb, melted away before her eyes. Day and night did their chase in reverse, the seasons came and went, the once flourishing cult returned to the run-down, empty plot of land it had been.

Further still did the land change around her, the temple going from ruins to standing tall and proud. A rat bore the red crown and she witnessed his defection, his rise to power, his calling as a crown bearer.

And on it went, decades passed in a blink of an eye, until everything ground to a halt. The world snapped in place in such clarity that she was stunned for a moment.

She could hear birds chirping, it was a clear spring day, several decades before the temple would be built and a century before The Lamb would be forced on the violent path to divinity.

Movement from behind her had her turning around to see another being. A butterfly-like being in a black, flowing dress whose wings were constantly changing size, shape, and pattern. As if they encompassed every tribe and clan of butterflies that had ever been or will be.

Her older sister, Skuld.

Skuld carried a bundle of cloth in her arms, a green and gold robe, and wordlessly passed it to her.

Verdandi nodded in thanks as she donned the soft robes that were her choice of attire as a goddess of time.

“You knew.” Verdandi said and her sister shrugged.

“I maintain the heavens. as Urd is responsible for maintaining the soil,” Skuld replied calmly. “So too, do you keep watch over the life that dwells in our domains, and the course mortal and divine actions chart out from one age to the next.”

“You knew. ” She repeated.

“I hoped,” Skuld stated. “There must always be three sisters to balance the scales between heaven, earth, and souls.”

“And you won’t help?” Verdandi asked.

“Urd and I will accept and adapt to the choices you will make, just as you have aided us in the past with our duties,” Skuld said with a small smile. “Now, go and save your friend, little sister. I promise you will get through to them.”

She bowed to the butterfly, in gratitude, in thanks. For Skuld to promise that was a small mercy in the face of all she had to accomplish.

And it made her all the more resolute to rescue Shamura from their madness.

Now adorned in the robes befitting her return, she bid her sister farewell and made haste towards Silk Cradle.

#time flowed backwards fanfic #cult of the lamb au

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