#cernon imagines

[bump1nthen1ght]

Searching For Redemption (Chapter 4/5)

(Male!Forest Spirit x GN!Reader)

Pairing: Male! Forest Spirit x Gender Neutral! Noble! Reader

Genre: Slow Burn, fluff, historical fantasy

Warnings: Descriptions of Blood and animal violence

Word Count: 2827 words

Summary: You've become accustomed to your new life, if only a bit. How will a trip back into civilization change that?

A/N: We're here!! The penultimate (not final, whoops) chapter!! Next ones going to be a doozy, so I hope y'all enjoy ❤️

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 5

It’s early in the morning, as early as you can go, when you head to the market for the first time.

It had been 3 weeks since marrying Cernon, though it felt like no time had passed at all. Your daily routine of manual labor and organizing made the days bleed together, the nights usually a quick dinner and a crash into bed. Time was kept in your mind by moments with Cernon. He’d slowly begun to talk more and more, chit chatting as you work or while you washed up during the night. He’d even complimented your deweeding skills a few days ago, a small ‘good job’ that had you flush with accomplishment. He was opening up, slowly, but surely.

Being back in town felt surreal. You’d grown used to the murmuring silence of the forest, of being sweaty and filthy as you fed, cleaned, and cooked. Now you’re out on the streets, where people could see you, talk to you, judge you. Unlike when you lived in the castle, there were no intimidating knights or carriage windows to hide behind. It’s terrifying and exhilarating all at the same time.

Only a few shops are open, mostly run by older folks who stick to their own schedule. It’s enough for you to pick up essentials from your shopping list, all while still staying discrete.

The first store you enter is one of your old favorites. Not that you had ever been inside, of course, but the cute outdoor patio was one of the favorite sites from the carriage. It was also run by the only shopkeep you knew personally, an adorable older woman, Doreen who would personally deliver the fresh pastries to your driver. She often went out of her way to hand you a couple extra muffins, knowing they are your favorite.

A bell chimes as you push open the door, hot oven air and the smell of fresh pastries washing over you. Those muffins you love are already put out on a platter on top of the display case, a little sign saying ‘Today’s special’ written in fine penmanship.

“In a minute, dear!” An old voice shouts, not silencing the muttering chit-chat from the kitchen. You wondered if the owner had multiple pastry chefs who worked for her, or maybe it was just her family getting ready for the day. You daydream about this hidden life you would have never learned about in the castle as you browse, fingers dancing across the display case.

Theres the swing of a door, pushed open by the owner, her apron already speckled with flour.

“What can I do for you-”

You both jolt when she drops her wooden spoon, finally getting a look at her first customer of the day. Her mouth hangs open and you can feel your ears get hot.

“Um, is everything alright?”

Apparently three weeks of desperately trying to read Cernon has honed your ability, as you can see the million thoughts racing across her face all at once. It’s in her eyes, her posture, and her still open mouth.

But she’s a pro at this game, and as quickly as you notice it she’s composed herself. A big, warm smile replaces the shock.

“I just wasn’t expecting to see you in the flesh, your majesty. To be honest, you’re a bit taller than I thought you’d be, after only seeing you through a window all these years.”

You both laugh, a breath of fresh air as all that anxiety leaves you in a moment.

“I’d imagine so, but I'm sure I lost a few inches from having to hunch in that carriage seat. All that money and you’d think they’d design more ergonomic cushions.”

You can practically hear your father now, scolding you for even daring to imply shoddy castle craftsmanship, even worse, mention money so plainly. It’s unbecoming of a noble, he’d curse at you, before slapping your wrist.

“Oh, and I was just thinking of buying that new silver studded one for my pets.” She jests, patting herself on the arm. “Guess I’ll have to settle for a tiara, times really are tough.” She winks and you chuckle again. The feeling in the air is lighthearted, warm, so different from taking trips to town from before. The conversation is so casual, so easy, you don’t even notice the hushed silence coming from the back, nor the wandering eyes of curious old women.

“Now, what can I get you darling?”

“Nothing crazy, I just remembered how much I loved your sourdough and thought I’d swing by. Oh and can I get five of the muffins, please?” Doreen nods, grabbing a pair of tongs and a satchel as she puts away the pastries. You let your eyes wander to the back shelf, seeing jars of flour, sugar, and even some jams. The large window into the kitchen beckons your gaze, your periphery just glancing three sets of peering eyes, which jerk away as you finally focus.

Huh, weird.

But then you see a neatly wrapped jar, decorated with a blue ribbon, on the shelf. It’s a little more full than the others, with a label and an itty bitty price tag.

“Could I also get some if that fig jam?”

Doreen glances backwards. “Sure thing, hon. I actually just started putting that out today, so you’ll be the first to taste my jam recipe.” Doreen laughed to herself. “Happy to know it will actually sell, too.”

“Well I’m extra excited. My husband loves figs, so I’m sure he’ll give an honest review.”

Doreen pauses mid motion, a muffin dropping into the bag from a limp tong. Somehow, the quiet of the back got even quieter. That familiar tension crawls up your back once more, remembering that first meeting with Cernon. All the fear you had for the beast in the woods.

Doreen coughs, clearly trying to hide her shock. “Well, I look forward to-”

“Whats he like?”

One of the spying eyes from the back pipes up, now easily recognizable as the fruit stand owner down the street. Doreen whips back around to her with a glare.

“Well we know he likes figs, thats for sure?” Says the other spy, the florist form next door.

“I didn’t realize he could eat produce, I assumed it was a meat only situation.” The end of the trio is the head seamstress from the tailors, fidgeting her hands back and forth.

“Ugh, could you imagine the morning breath? I think not.” The fruit stand owner replies, shuddering at the thought. “I won’t even kiss my Henry after he eats a pork pie, nonetheless raw meat.”

“I didn’t say raw meat, I said only meat.” Chides the seamstress. “My god, he’s not an animal.”

“Not like your Henry, at the very least.”

Doreen lays a hand in her hip, unimoressed with their banger. “You ladies done with you’re clucking? I have a customer, here.”

“Sod off, Doreen, you’re saying you’re nor curious?” Fruit stand owner snaps back, but with a friendly chide in her tone. “Besides, they just got married, it’s only polite to ask how the groom’s doing.”

Her other two spies don’t even look to believe her excuse, but Doreen rolls her eyes the hardest.

“Yeah, sure.” Doreen turns back to you “Sorry about them, dear. Y’know us old bats and our gossip.”

“Oh, its okay.” It really isn’t, but the opening they have given you is perfect for your second goal of the day. “I know some people were…shocked by the announcement. But he’s really not as monstrous as people describe, he’s actually very sweet and-”

“Is he romantic?” Fruit stand says, cutting off both you and Doreen. Florist slaps her on the shoulder

“Waste of a question, Marge. Obviously he’s a romantic, we all heard how he proposed.”

“I know that Edith.” Marge backs. “But unlike you, I want to hear the whole story, not what everyone’s talking about it.”

“Oh I bet it was a dream.” Seamstress sighs, a fond look in her eyes. “On one knee, his heart on his sleeve, a ring he crafted from precious gemstones from all over the world. But how did he ask the question?”

“Does he cook? All the best men know how to cook.” Marge adds on, craning her head over the others.

“Cooking’s a plus, sure, but does he know to clean? That's the sign of a real winner.” Edith interjects, crossing her arms like she’s had personal experience with the issue.

“Or does he bring you his prize game from the forest? I read a novel like that once, the male lead seemed like a catch and a half.” The seamstress interjects, that dreamlike look still in her eyes.

Doreen is annoyed, trying to ignore them and encourage you to do so well. But you’re a little shell-shocked. When you had first cooked up the cover story, you thought you'd have to sell it a lot more. You definitely weren’t expecting people to eat it up like the morning gossip, nor did you expect such…questions

The story went that the beast, upon first glance with your majesty, had fallen madly in love. He had fought and killed those knights in an attempt court their highness, convinced in his “barbaric” ways that his feats of strength in defeating rival suitors would prove his worthiness to them.

In an act of courage, your majesty had approached the creature, explaining human courting customs properly. Maddened by affection, the beast gave his deepest apologies and crafted a ring of precious jewels, declaring his love in a proper way. Moved by the beast’s feelings and cordiality, their majesty accepted, leaving behind their life of luxury to be with their one true life.

A part of you wanted to tell them that no, Cernon wasn’t a great chef. That he wasn’t necessarily a romantic per say, usually knee deep in muck and laughing when you slipped and fell. He was bad at keeping things in order and frankly, his hair got everywhere.

But he was good at hunting and he always did the dishes when you cooked for you both. He picked up when you slipped and told you how to stand in the mud so you’re more stable. He helped find a place for all your bathroom products and when he noticed you shivering at night, he’d throw an arm and his blanket around you till you get warm again. Cernon was real, genuine, all the messy things in between.

And he had killed people.

That was why you had sold the romanticism of the story so much. That special kind of longing, almost obsession, that seems so glamorous on the outside that you can forgive all the dirty parts you aren’t experiencing.

You feel a bit sick to your stomach, that soft memory of Cernon’s arms wrapped around now xon striding and hot. It was wet and had a metal tang.

“Dear? Everything alright?” You’re snapped back into the present and out of thr unknown, four old women staring at you curiosly.

“Oh yes, I just…” You pick at your knuckles, an old habit from childhood, “...It’s been so wonderful these past weeks, I guess it’s the honeymoon bliss.” You rest you chin in thr plan if yoru hand for added effect. “Not sure if I’m an accurate witness.”

The three in the back bluster, eyes darting in between each other like they know they're gonna gossip more about this later. Doreen’s smile is softer, content with your own happiness.

“Well, I’m glad to see it’s well and good. Now, you three,” Doreen points her spatula to the hens, “Go back and finish up the dishes from breakfast with these idle hands of yours. It’s too early for this much chit-chat.”

The three graciously retreat, though you do hear a little bit of murmuring of excited banter. Doreen rolls her eyes, handing you your groceries as you pass over some coin.

Before you can back away, she grabs your wrist.

“If you need anything, just always know we’re here, ok dear?” She pats the top of your hand, “You don’t have to do anything alone.”

You smile, whispering a shaky ‘thanks’ and rushing out before the tears fully settle in your eyes.

While it wasn’t necessarily needed, it was nice knowing you had someone in your corner.

—

The rest of the grocery shopping goes by with ease. Most of the shopkeeps are too baffled by your humble appearance to ask any prying questions, even though you can tell they want to. You are even able to pick up some extra stuff for a recipe Cernin wants to try out. He had read it in a cookbook brought from the palace and you had caught him eyeing over the text multiple times since then.

But the hours of stares and walking do get a bit tiring, leaving you drained by the time you reach the forest edge. With the boughs of trees shifting and shadows leaping out of the way to make your way back home, your mind is elft wandering.

Who exactly were you falling for? The beast in the woods, or Cernon?

—

You’re hunched over, wiping sweat from your neck with a handkerchief, when it happens.

It’s the heat of the day, a morning of barn deep-cleaning behind you, and Cernon is in the kitchen grabbing water for you both. As much as he shied away from your more material things, he’s taken up to filling your nice pitcher with lemon water every morning.

You’re a bit away from the house, sitting on a shady patch of grass. The thick forest side looks a little less ominous than before, but still conceals the shuffling and trotting of the boar. It’s only when she trots a few feet away from your patch that you notice her at all, jolting in surprise. She reminds you a bit of Sheila, one of the few pigs you’ve ever met, but far more grizzled. Maybe that's why you don’t feel as anxious as you should when she begins to huff, eyeing you warily. Pure inexperience proves to be to your detriment at this moment. You begin to kiss your lips together, rubbing your fingers together with a false treat. You’ve seen Cernon do this to the girls before.

Maybe she’s hurt? She seems nervous.

You slowly rise to your knees and her size becomes more apparent at eye level. If you had thought your hogs were massive before, that assumption has swiftly been corrected.

It takes only the smallest movement, a 2-inch step forward to spook her. That snuffling you associate with the girls isn’t playful or content, it’s a warning. It’s in a millisecond that you realize you’re in danger, the same millisecond that the boar charges.

You fall from your uneven footing and onto your butt, crawling backwards with wide eyes. The boar's tusks gleam in the light, all hard edges and bone white. Your stomach sinks low, your heart beating directly in your ears. Everything is so fast, colors blurring together, so you barely even register when Cernon pounces on the boar.

All you can see is the strong plane of his back, one set of his arms holding onto the boars tusks and the other digging his hands into the ground. The boar's sheer mass is able to push him back a couple feet, but he uses her tusks as leverage to whip her head around and throw her off her center. His hands lose grip on her weapons, both of them discombobulated as they try to regain the upper hand. His back paws dig leaves trails of upturned dirt behind him.

He swings one of his massive clawed hands at her face, trying to take out her eyes, but he misses. The boar has corrected herself and swings her large head under Cernon’s arms, colliding with his chest with a sickening crack. Spit flies from Cernons mouth as a breath claws its way out of him. His name dies on your lips, terror and shock robbing your voice from you.

But then Cernon roars.

It’s deep, shuddering through the ground and the woods as his claws dig into the boar's sides, raking deep crimson lines as she squeals. He uses both arms to push her up and away from his chest, throwing her against the side of a tree. She collides with a thud but rolls down, body limp.

Cernon falls to his knees, his chest heaving. You scramble onto your legs, nearly face planting as you run toward him.

His eyes, exhausted, swoop towards you. He bites his lip as a shock of pain coils through him, grasping his side. But he’s able to turn towards the house, barely applying pressure to push himself up to stand. Your arms swoop under his shoulders, just above his lower set of arms. The adrenaline is so potent, you don’t even register how heavy he is.

[boyfriend-vernon]

[5:32 am]

“If we weren’t in the city, we’d have been able to see the stars instead of just watching the sunrise,” Vernon says matter-of-factly, shoving his hands into his pockets. You mimic his action and shiver a bit. 

“I think that the city lights, in a way, are just as pretty as the stars would have been... and if you pretend I said something super introspective about sunrises, I’m sure they would seem cooler too,” you smile, the wind bites at your skin and you watch as it whips his hair around and a big grin spreads across his face. 

You are both standing on the top level of some random parking garage in downtown Miami. The sounds of the already bustling streets below becoming background noise. “Yea, introspective,” the hint of a laugh riding on his tone. After a moment, Vernon looks at you out of the corner of his eye, taking one hand from his pocket and reaching into yours, grabbing your hand tightly, “I think my mom is really happy that she finally gets to meet you.”

“I hope so,” a soft sigh leaves your lips, “your sister too.” 

“They are probably planning our marriage as we speak,” he chuckles. 

His words make your smile widen, but you try and contain yourself, “Well I’d hope not, it’s literally 5 in the morning.” 

Vernon chuckles, turning his head to stare at you clearly. Normally you’d notice, but your mind is already drifting through the wedding invitations and cake tastings. He can’t help but stare at you lovingly, watching your eyes sparkle with a beautiful anticipation. He won’t say it out loud for fear of spontaneous combustion, but the thought of seeing you walking down the isle, ready to spend your lives together, makes him happier than anything else in the world.