#hwcfutw

[itsagrimm]

He Who Comes from under the Water

Chapter 12 - To Watch a Witch Burn

CN Ivar, witch hunts, sexism, patriarchy, murder, arson

Cultural Context notes

witch hunts were a thing??? Not a huge phenomenon in eastern Europe tho.

Yes, I am back. Felt like writing.

Not beta-read by the still wonderful qq aka @daisies-and-lavender-sideblog as I needed to publish this and be done with this chapter instead of dragging it around even longer.

2,8 k words

Masterlist

I made a playlist for this series. Enjoy.

Night cloaked the world under its dark spell, making way for the rising moon. Since time immemorial, the moon had wandered the sky, watching from above how kingdoms rose and fell, how people lived, how history was made. And very shortly after that immemorial moment long ago when the moon started their celestial hike, they learned how boring eternity was.

If the moon could sigh, they would. As their large lunar eye passed the dark lands below, there was nothing new to see. Always the same old spectacular robberies, coven meetings, lovers secretly reuniting.

Same old, same old.

The moon was about to metaphorically sigh again when their sight fell onto a familiar little wooden house below.

The house of the bride of that little guy.

What was his name?

King of ponds?

Prince of Piss?

It was so long ago.

The moon could not remember but he did remember that the Bride was human and to marry a Vodyanoy. A human and a Vodyanoy!

The moon remembered just a night ago how they had talked. It felt so long now as if months had passed.

The house looked different than how it had just a night ago.

The top floor was wet as if it had just survived a flood. Peeking through the broken window the moon caught sight of an equally dishevelled and chaotic bedroom.

Kids these days.

The front door opened and the Bride and her Vodyanoy stepped outside. They looked happy. She even wore a Kokoshnitza. Armed with the axe, the Vodyanoy looked around, before nodding to his bride and kneeling down. With a shy smile the bride stepped closer, adjusted a mossy blanket around her shoulders and giggled as her fiancé lifted her up to carry her away into the woods.

Looks like they have talked and resolved their differences, the Moon noticed.

But what now? Curious and excited, the Moon watched as they made their way through the dark forest, peeking through the branches and leaves to catch glimpses of the Vodyanoy and the bride in his arms. After a far too long and unentertaining hike (if it was up to the Moon) they arrived at the lake in which the Vodanoy had started to construct a new castle.

Looks a bit like a beaver lodge, the moon mused, too modern architecture. It’s missing columns.

Quickly, the Vodanoy carried his bride over to a little boat, setting her down and pushing her out into the open water as he swam around her like a dark threatening shadow under the water’s surface.

Smart to sleep out on the water where there is no bigger threat than the Vodyanoy himself.

The bride saw nothing of the dark, scaled, and clawed shadow circling her little swimming sanctuary like a cat a mouse. She took off her hair piece, snuggled into her blanket, and closed her eyes, falling asleep shortly while her fiancé lurked right under those few thin pieces of wood separating her from the deep dark water.

That’s it?

The moon would have killed for something more interesting. Their eyes wander over the little boat with the sleeping bride, the dark water and finally the Vodyanoy himself – dark and dangerous and unlike any groom to a human bride before.

With narrowed eyes the Vodyanoy blinked up, meeting the moon's curious eyes. 

“You are up.” The little princeling spoke.

“Of all the things you could have said, little one.” The moon huffed. “Of course I am up. I am the moon. I have nowhere else to be but up.”

The Vodyanoy shrugged, causing little waves to circle around him, and smiled.

“How are you, friend?” The princeling said with a mouth full of sharp teeth ready to break and gnaw bones. “I suppose I have to thank you. Your advice that I should talk with the Bride was a sound one.”

The moon hummed, staring down at the peacefully sleeping Bride in the embrace of water.

“I can see that. I am glad. What now?” The moon responded, eager to hear something, anything interesting.

“What now.” The Vodyanoy sighed. “She has my heart as I have hers. But she is still destined to die and I am not. It feels like winning a game of cards only for the table under it to crumble immediately.”

“Because she is a human?”

The Vodyanoy curled around the boat like a cat.

“Yes. I don’t think she minds it much. But I do. She will be gone one day and I will still be here. Always be here.”

The moon stayed silent for a moment, considering its words.

"You are hardly the first groom asking himself if they are making the right decisions. If you two are willing to give this marriage a try, why not gamble it? You might regret not doing so." The moon commented and paused. "But if there is a way to help you, let me know. It's awfully boring up here. You are one of the few who bother talking to me. I would love to return a favour."

König sighed, more waves running in circles from his enormous dark body in the water.

"Baba Yaga, the honourable witch, said I must sacrifice something I hold dear and give it to my Bride to save her." The princling said. "But I have nothing I care about that I could give her. Or am I wrong? I do not know. If you have the answer, dear moon, please do tell so I can save my Bride."

The moon thought about the witches' words. But nothing came to the moon, that was very illuminating.

"I am afraid I do not know. But I'll tell you prince of -"

"König. King of everything from under the water. Pardon the interruption."

The moon paused.

"Maybe you should give her your pride and title. Just marry her and then she should be safe?"

König yawned.

"Wouldn't that be too easy?" The king wondered, yawing again.

"U-hm."

The moon did not feel too bright about that.

"Maybe… Let's not risk it." They suggested. "For now, I can keep guard. Maybe a good night's sleep will help you figure it out yourself?"

The Vodyanoy sighed.

"Good night then. Thanks for keeping watch, Moon."

The little king of everything from under the water closed his eyes, cradling the little boat with his bride in to keep it from flooding out of reach and the Moon gazed away.

No dangers were on the face of the lake. The rivers and ponds laid calm and undisturbed, a great lull covering the early summer night.

The forest was less so. A fox made his way back to his den. A nightingale sang her song. A group of nearby villagers gathered in the darkness among their little houses in a nearby clearing.

The moon paused.

Armed with torches and pitchforks the villagers gathered as if ready to march.

Lovely! Exciting! The moon could not help but think with curiosity and concern. But where do they go?

A man was there, among the crowd. He was holding a torch, raising it high as he spoke with command.

“She is cursed!"

More villagers flooded out of houses, grabbing whatever tools they might find.

"And all that comes with her is cursed too!” A man called loudly over the supportive murmur from the crowd. “For too long we have waited and watched as monsters have started to creep around our village! As order has started to erode! We must bring an end to this before she kills us too! Think of the children! Think of the women!”

“Aye, Ivar! Tell them!” Someone shouted through the night.

“Think of the order of the world!” Ivar continued. “We have allowed a cursed girl in our midst. We were kind and patient. Oh, how benevolently we have tolerated her wickedness, have we not? Was she not allowed to live in the house of her family despite being unmarried and unbound against our custom?”

More supportive shouts sounded through the air.

“And her fiancé? Was she not seen naked with this stranger at the river? Improper and concerning! What will our wives and daughters think if they learn of the cursed girl roaming free? If they are not taken away by the monsters stalking through the night brought in by this witch!”

“Witch!” Another man stressed, shouting with hatred dripping from the maw. “She is a witch!”

“And a liar!”

“And a curse!”

“And unmarried!”

“I would never allow for a girl like that into my family!” A woman added loudly. “She is a stain. No boy from our village should be burdened with her.”

“There is just one way left!” Ivar shouted over the crowd. “We must kill her before she kills us!”

A grim silence befell the crowd.

The moon stared intently at the mob, waiting for judgement to fall. Like a witness to an execution waiting for the axe to hit the neck.

“Yes. We must kill the witch.” The woman finally stated solemnly. “We must kill the witch before she hexes our sons.”

“Before she tempts our daughters and wives.”

“Before she seduces our husbands.”

“Before she kills us.”

The man Ivar nodded and the crowd nodded with him.

“Yes, we must kill the girl before the girl kills us. In haste! We must act now.”

In gruesome fascination the moon watched, wondering about the poor girl who was supposed to be so powerful that she could threaten a whole village, summon monsters, and confuse the hearts of men and women alike.

Should I do something? The moon thought to themselves before realising a more pressing question. Can I do something?

While the moon was an excellent witness at night, they discovered it made for a lousy guardian to be up in the sky and unreachable for most.

I am sure this has nothing to do with the little king and his bride. The moon hoped and watched as the crowd shared pitchforks and torches among themselves, as mothers and wives whispered and joined with their husbands and sons to go kill some girl, as someone was hushed who dared to ask how a powerful witch could be killed by just some lowly peasants.

The Moon stared unblinkingly, wondering what was about to happen.

I am sure she will get away. The moon wished, feeling dread creeping up at the horizon.

Silently observing the moon saw how the mob made their way in muted order to not spook the girl-witch. Through gardens and under branches of leaves. In unjustified loveliness the night air caressed pleasantly over the crowd of the murderers to be.

If she were a witch, they would never stand a chance to harm her. The Moon thought to themselves, thinking back to the time when someone thought it wise to insult Baba Yaga.

Maybe…  The moon thought regretfully. Maybe the little Vodyanoy could… If I get him to wake up…

In horror the moon realised that the mob had made its way to the house of the bride before relief overcame them.

“She is not home! No one is home!” One of the villagers cried out from the broken bedroom window after making his way through the house. “The upper floor is nearly destroyed. It’s strange! It’s all wet like after a flood.”

“That must be magic!” Someone else cried. “Get out while you can!”

“She must have fled. We need to find her.” Ivar declared. “Lads, take torches and check the forest.”

No one moved.

“The forest? Are you mad, Ivar? That’s where the monsters roam. If she went into the forest, she is dead or a monster herself.” The woman from before spoke. “I will not send my sons to death to find a corpse or become one.”

“But what if she returns?” Ivar replied.

“Let’s make sure there is nothing to return to for her.” The woman replied calmly. “You said it yourself, old teacher – all that comes with her is cursed too. We must torch the place, Ivar. We must burn the stain away.”

“No, think of the house!” Ivar tried.

“What? Want to live in this cursed place? Want to eat fruit from this gruesome grove? Or work the land and choke on what would grow from it? The witch is dangerous, and we must wipe out anything that is left of her before she can afflict us.” The woman declared. Her eyes were dark in the night and her face was cut wolfish by the fluttering shadows cast from the torches. “Go on, boys! Burn it. Watch your fingers. Be careful.”

Her command broke the tense silence and the moon watched as young men started to search for firewood, hay, anything that would help them burn the house.

I must wake König. It's his Bride's house. The moon realised as they watched how the first flames tingled up the wo

oden walls.

Hey! Hey! Wake up! The soft call barely made the Vodyanoy stir.

Ivar, the old teacher stood and watched as the house burned without any witch in it. He grumbled about waste as he stood and observed the fruit trees being felled and the grains being trampled.

“It is better that way, Ivar.” The old woman spoke as she stepped closer, friendly rubbing over his shoulder. “It is a temptation. I have seen how you eyed the girl. How you have taken stock of what you saw she had. But no more. None of it is anymore. We are not thieves. Our anger is righteous. This fire is our defence. And it burns to keep you from becoming what you teach our boys not to be.”

Ivar shrugged her hand off.

“We could have used the house.” He sighed as they both watched the burning house. Someone had started singing like it was a peaceful bonfire. A girl danced and the moon watched how someone carefully hid a silver spoon in their pocket.

Wake up! You need to wake up!

“The garden, too.” Ivar continued his musings. “And the fields. Winters are hard. Don’t be superstitious, Anna. No one would have choked on the grain or been killed by a girl-monster lurking in the forest. Why did you do that?”

Anna sighed.

“Oh, you know why, Ivar! That little girl - a witch? Cursed? Commanding monsters? Please, you don’t believe it yourself.” The woman shook her head. “But she was becoming a problem. We both know. And I could not watch her get what so many women did not get before her."

"I don't understand, Anna."

"Of course you do not." She spit out bitterly.

Ivar stretched his hands out as if warming his fingers at the fire, mulling over Anna's words.

The man Ivar stayed silent and they watched the fire as the roof started to collapse, as the smell of burned fabric and shattering cups filled the air.

“Do you think we will see her again?” Ivar broke the silence.

The woman shrugged.

“If she is smart, no.” Anna replied. “She is just a girl after all. If she comes back after seeing her house burned to a cinder, my boys will take care of her like they would a proper witch.”

Ivar nodded and stepped away.

“Glad we agree on that, Anna.” Ivar said, “I still disagree on all that waste, but I am glad I can count on you keeping the peace with me.”

Anna smiled before waving her sons to her and turning to go. It was late in the night.

The Moon watched unblinkingly, a silent witness to an uncommitted murder as the village people started to tire and retreat to their own unburned, safe little houses.

It had been an eventful night after all and the Moon was not sure if they were glad about it for once. Their eyes wandered back to the lake with the half-build castle.

For a moment the Moon considered trying to wake the little king and the bride again. But then what would it help except having the Vodyanoy storm off and getting himself killed in the glimmering ashes of the burning wood house now?

No, they would figure out soon enough, the moon thought bitterly.

XXXX

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[itsagrimm]

He Who Comes from under the Water

Chapter 11 - The Dive

Monster!König X she/her afab Reader

CN: Mentions of possible death and injury, fear of water, nearly drowning, mentions of possibly getting hurt, inappropriate use of an axe, depression and bad mental health, on character is passively suicidal, cannibalism, fear of being alone, fear of separation from a loved one, lack of self-confidence, kissing, making out, partial nudity

Notes for better understanding at the bottom!

Beta-read by the equally afflicted @queenquazar. Unhinged writing and editing sessions in the dead of night wouldn't be the same without you.

6.0k words

Masterlist

Hope you enjoyed your summer as I have but now as it's getting colder, darker and most importantly weather outside, I am fairly sure updates will roll quicker now.

also I need to do more trips with my camera, I am running out of decent looking header photos.

I made a playlist for this series. Enjoy.

The fresh morning breeze caressed over your slowly warming up skin. Branches of trees danced a lazy rhythm and the late birds of summer sang their song. Ghost stood next to you, wrapped in his coat made of leaves and moss and sturdy solitude, as you both looked up to the window of your bedroom. König was in there, still asleep and out of your reach.

“Let’s try to wake up König one more time.”

Hope reared its head as you heard Ghost’s words.

But not too high.

“How?” You wondered out loud. “I am sorry that you feel stuck here with me, but König did not wake up last time you tried. Why should he now?”

“Maybe we need to try harder,” Ghost replied and grabbed Königs axe.

Your eyes widened.

“Hold on!” You tried to stop what was unfolding before you, only to witness Ghost grow in size, taller than the trees, taller than the house, and far away from your little human words.

“Enough, little brother,” Ghost groaned from high above you and you had to shield your ears from the loud thundering voice “It is time to wake up. I am tired of guarding your Bride in your stead.”

Birds took off, the earth shook and trees froze as in fear of the giant that was said to be their guardian.

Ghost straightened up and turned to the house.

“Hey!”

Like an animal on the hunt that got caught, Ghost froze and turned back, staring down at you with an oddly blank expression.

“What are you up to, Ghost?” You called, trying to ignore the little voice in your mind telling you that shutting up and quivering in fear before the giant was a smarter strategy to survive.

“Why the axe?” You squeaked as you tried not to squeak.

Ghost blinked, confused by this little being that was his future sister in law. Such a flimsy thing of flesh and bone, shouting at him from her place in the dirt. Ghost glanced at the axe, shaking his head.

“Right. I am sorry. I am not used to explaining myself but you have every right to ask,” Ghost admitted, and fell back into a shape more approachable to you, like a shadow growing smaller by the change of light.

“You can do it.” Ghost said. “Hit König with the axe to wake him up.”

You blinked, it was your turn to stare confused.

“He is just the Vodyanoy napping in water. Swinging an axe against him is like hitting the surface of a lake, stirring up a few waves but nothing else. He will be fine. And hopefully he will wake up from it.” Ghost explained and passed you the heavy axe before growing in size again.

You looked down onto the massive wood axe in your hands, the wooden handle old and used.

“Are you sure that will work, Ghost?” Uncertainty creeping up in your mind and voice, worry and frustration manifesting about your fiance’s wellbeing and actions.

“Have you ever heard of running water getting cut?” Ghost answered. “I am not saying König will like it, but it won’t harm him. Trust me.”

You swallowed, feeling uneasy. Hitting a human with an axe in their sleep was murder. Plain and simple. But, König was as much a human as you were a fish. His skin shifted and shaped as he pleased. He ruled the waters and even summoned them in his dreams after not sleeping for who knows how long, destroying your room. And his eyes…

“I understand this might be a lot to ask,” Ghost paused. “You will have to trust me on this one, Vodyanitza.”

His words danced through your mind like willow branches in the wind. If Ghost would have wanted to and this was ill-intentioned, he could have harmed König without bothering to talk and convince you of this plan. Maybe there was a point in trusting Ghost even if the thought of König getting hurt made you grow colder inside than the cooler morning breeze ever could.

You looked up to the giant and nodded.

“Let’s do this.”

“Hold on tight,” He stated and grabbed you to place onto the window sill to your bedroom. Like a leaf he tumbled into the room after you, turning himself small again and landing in the splashing water on your bedroom floor.

You cried out, first in surprise than dreadful fear from all the water suddenly around you as the heavy axe slipped out of your fingers and landed in the water, sinking down with a shallow ‘clunk’ against the wooden planks. 

“Ghost. I-” you eyed the water splashing around the room like a lively river. Or a dark river, a deep river, deep enough to drown. “I am afraid of water. I can’t get down from here. I can’t do it.”

Ghost made a sound that could have been a grumbled curse whispered by a tree before being hit by lightning.

“A Vodyaniza who fears the water,” He stated. “Sounds right like the mess my brother would cause. Alright, I’ll do it then.”

“Wait,” You looked at König as you tried to calm your nerves as you took deep calming breaths. He was still deep asleep. A mess of tangled unhuman limbs and scales and hair and skin in the waters of your flooded room. Panic and fear surged from all the water, but you forced those emotions in you aside as you tried to commit his sight to your memory, just in case something was to go wrong.

“Okay,” You finally agreed and nodded to Ghost.

This was it.

Ghost picked up the axe from the water and raised it high before swinging it down onto König.

The impact of the axe connecting with Königs head sounded like thunder rolling over you.

Loud and painful and final. 

Suddenly, like a storm, the water rose and reached high before you, waves building and crashing at your feet as you held onto the window frame for dear life while trying to see through the room filled with fine droplets of water and foamy waves.

A groan rang through your ear.

Königs voice - strained and painfully familiar.

Another groan as you heard a second hit from the axe through the wild waters before you … like…

…like a yawn before having to leave bed, yet still feeling tired.

“König?” You hoped aloud, your voice being drowned out by the rushing water and Ghost’s deep voice.

“Wakey-wakey, brother! Stop making your Bride wait for you!”

“Urgh.”

A massive wave crashed right next to the wall with your window, breaking the glass and causing the house to shake from the impact.

“Get up, little brother.” You could not see through all the splashing water before you, only hearing the sound of Ghost’s deep voice. “Stop being dramatic and flooding your girl’s room. It’s rude.”

A third axe hit thundered through the little space before you. More water rose and a wave finally hit you. You wailed as you tried to fight against the dreadful flood, with desperate fingers you reached for safety. Catching the clammy window frame, the sill, and finally just the thin fabric of the curtains until the pull of the retreating water consumed you and took you in to the deep waters.

The silence of being underwater was more unbearable for your mind than the loud crashing of waves and shattering sounds of the hitting axe above.

For a moment fear froze your body and you could not help but stare as you floated impossibly downwards at the sight of König, coiled up like a serpent snake and shifting scales reflecting the light. His eyes were closed except for a sliver of that beautiful blue peeking into the world as if the king of everything under the water was about to wake up. Bubbles of air fought their way out of your lungs and you felt panic as you watched the axe hitting König from above.

Would he be fine?

No blood came out of the wound that broke as the axe connected with Königs sleeping shape. You watched König being unharmed and lazily stretching his long limbs and body as you floated downwards, taken by a strong current in the impossibly deep waters of your bedroom.

Wait, would you be fine?

König did not notice any of it. Instead, his eyes only slightly fluttered, as if merely being tickled awake - lazy, unfocused blinking of blue eyes before sharpening up. Still sleepy, he looked around as if confused if he was still dreaming or awake. Finally, König locked eyes with you and smiled. It was a beautiful smile, toothy and life-savingly-relieving to see him coming back to his senses.

You did not smile back. The air bubbles in your mouth were too precious a cargo to smile for König, opting instead for an unhappy grimace and some waving motions that hopefully spelled out: ‘I don’t want to be here and need your help to get out’.

For a moment, a very long moment as you struggled, König blinked before the realisation kicked in. He was far away, so far away from you in the waters that he had dreamed up. Yet, unbelievably quick the serpent body moved and changed as König headed for you. With hands, not scaled claws anymore,  König reached out as he fought his way through a whole ocean between you and him as a last air bubble left your mouth. 

Your head was spinning and you started to lose sight as you felt hands on you that lifted you up and out of the water.

You coughed, ungraciously spitted out water as König tried wiping out hair and tangled clothes out of your face.

“Bride! Are you okay?”

You vomited water at his feet and chest while he held you like a cat that got rescued from the floods, close to his body and patting you like a little animal.

“She looks fine.” Ghost’s gravelly voice sounded through the air as you still tried to blink and see. “You better worry about this flood you caused.”

“Oh. Right.” You felt König shift and then the sound of water draining away as if someone  had pulled a plug.

You coughed again for good measure, still feeling weak and miserably wet. The cold was starting to set in as the rush of fear and panic started to run out.

Shivering, you tried wiping away the water from your face and opened your eyes.

Your bedroom was a mess. But not in the way your mother would have disapproved of but in a way she would have questioned whether or not it was still habitable. The water was gone, but the signs of the flood were catastrophically clear with nothing being dry, in pieces or not where it ought to be. Your bed was a pile of torn fabrics and splintered wood. The chest with your clothing, tipped over and empty, looked like a sad hungry animal no one had bothered to feed. And your few personal possessions, kept toys from your childhood, gifts from friends, clothes lying around the floor. Ghost was standing before you on something that might have been pieces of your wedding dress, leaning on the axe with the same skull-covered expression as always, yet appearing somewhat amused under it.

And König - he was holding you up to his chest, his hands still patting you helplessly as if that could help you. He looked human. Mostly. The hair was as messy as the first day you saw him, covering most of his face except for blue eyes burning through with worry.

“I-” you rasped despite the storm of emotions waging through you. “I was so worried about you, König.”

Another cough.

“But I have never been as angry as this before. What did you do with my room? And my wedding dress. Also-”

You felt like there was still some water in places of your body where none was supposed to be, wheezing and shaking your head from the uncomfortable feeling.

“-put me down. You are so cold and I feel like I am freezing in your arms.”

Guiltily, König put you down, mumbling something that could have been an apology while Ghost choked on something that could have been a laugh.

You paid no attention to them, concentrating on your weak legs to hold you and carry you to the torn pieces of your wedding dress. Ghost stepped aside and watched you with open curiosity as you held your dress in disbelief of how quickly your work had turned into rags.  Holding back tears, you let the fabric fall back down with a wet squelching sound and turned to the door. If you were lucky the hinges still worked and you could walk out on your own and warm you up again downstairs, away from the left battlefield that used to be your sanctuary.

You stumbled, reaching for the handle and opening the door only to face another cruel adversary.

The stairs.

There was no way you were able to make it down the steps without breaking your neck with how wobbly your legs felt and how ridiculously shaky your hands twitched.

You turned around, the pleading frustration in your eyes too visible for König not to step closer and peaking at the obstacle in your way.

He nodded while trying to control whatever emotions attempted to govern his face.

“Allow me, Bride.” He asked and lifted you up again before carrying you downstairs and into the kitchen, setting you down before the warm oven.

Ghost followed and started preparing tea and a hot stone before leaving the room as König returned with dry clothes for you, magically found somewhere in a part of the house that hadn’t been flooded. You looked at the pieces offered in his hands, only to see that it was a mix of mostly your fathers and brothers clothes from the storage. You did not care. They were dry and the village would judge you no matter what you wore. Might as well just do the best for yourself.

Unceremoniously, you stripped out of your dripping clothes. König held and steadied you where you needed it and grabbed the discarded pile of fabrics to put it up on the laundry line outside once you were done.

You stayed where you were, leaning close to the oven in the hopes of warming up quickly, and refusing to do anything before feeling less miserable.

Ghost was still a guest. And König was your fiance. A good hostess and bride would have started serving them the food that you had previously prepared.

A good hostess and bride would not have been dipped into a pool of dreamed up water in their own bedroom either. You thought bitterly before adding a relieving Fuck it.

Someone knocked at the door and you called them in.

Ghost reappear from the outside with a blanket of moss and leaves, wrapping it around you and placing you in the nearest chair to the oven before passing you a cup of the freshly brewed tea.

“Thank you,” You rattled through cold lips.

König returned with more wood for the oven and added a large log to feed the fire. You had shown him how to care for a fire, never expecting he would ever find a need for it. Both brothers hustled and moved around your little kitchen, hardly speaking and only every once in a while giving you worried glances as they made sure all work of a proper household would be done while you rested and warmed yourself. You closed your eyes, letting the feeling of being safe and cared for, seep in.

This day, even if it was slightly past midday, had punched all energy out of you while also confronting you with every possible emotion a human heart could feel. Waking up in the flood, alone and confused, next to your water serpent like fiance, meeting your future brother-in-law who thought you would die soon, nearly drowning once again while your fiance woke from the literally deepest nap possible in your now destroyed room. You sighed, not even bothering to bring order into your mind.

Instead, you gratefully thought how you finally weren’t alone even if it was scary at times to share your life with beings so different from you - König, Ghost, Farah, talking animals and murderous Rusalkis. Yes, this had been another moment where you could have been harmed. And mourning your room and things destroyed by the flood, was one of many things in the curled grey corners of your mind. There was still anger and confusion in you why it all had happened. But you weren’t alone anymore to face those things on your own. There were people around you now that noticed you and cared for your well-being. Clearly, not all of them to the same degree or out of the same motive. You understood that. But your lost room and wedding dress, your fears and secrets and longings felt more like a coherent song than a desperate cry for help when it wasn’t just your voice.

Someone touched you softly on the shoulder and you opened your eyes.

“Hey.” König stood before you with his blue watery eyes and wild hair.

Both brothers had paused their busy work and stood with their attention turned towards you.

“How are you feeling?” Ghost asked gravely from his far away spot at the door and reached for more tea for you with his long unhuman arms without moving.

You shivered, unsure if from the cold or from the odd reminder that neither of the men were human.

“Better,” You replied. “Thank you for giving me time to recover.”

Your eyes wandered to König, craving to hear his voice again and feel his warming eyes on you. He looked away, avoiding your gaze.

Your little heart dropped deeper than the waters in your room had been, fighting hard to soldier on.

You cleared your throat.

“Well,” you squeaked, your voice still feeling thin and fragily human as you addressed the giant men. “I am starving. This is not how a host normally does it in this house since all I did was sit and rest now. But how about we eat?”

The rabbit stew that you had made this morning smelled tempting and promising from its reheating spot in the oven and you heard your own stomach growl.

“Thank you for the invite, Vodyanitza,” Ghost declared, slightly bowing his head. “But we will have to do that another time.”

“Oh,” You huffed, slightly disappointed.

Ghost stilled, as if thinking before taking a deep breath.

“It has been lovely meeting you, my dear sister-in-law. It’s been a pleasure. Also- ” He paused. “I may have treated you rougher than necessary and I do apologise for that. If you ever need help, just send for me. I may not appear to be the most, let’s say, approachable. But I do hope that there is nothing but the best for you and I am looking forward to your wedding.”

“You are coming after all?” König finally spoke, surprise ringing in his voice as he turned to his brother.

Ghost nodded. “It’s not every day a brother of mine gets married. I need to make sure you don’t drown your own wedding guests.”

König forced a smile.

“Graves marries someone new every couple of years,” He interjected.

“Graves married and remarried so much, he hardly needs his elder brother to tell him how to plan a party. He knows what he is doing.”

Both brothers chuckled and you smiled at the sight, remembering your own brother.

“Before I go, dear sister, allow me to give you something.”

Ghost  reached into his coat. From the depths of his pockets he produced a huge leaf, rolled up into a package and bound together with a simple string.

“I suppose you have none yet, but a future queen should wear one. It would look good on your wedding day.”

You took the package from his hands and pressed it slightly, trying to guess what was inside.

“Thank you, Ghost. Why-“

“Open it.”

Obediently you opened the little knot holding the leaf together with slow, cold fingers and unrolling what was inside.

You gasped.

In your hands was a Kokoshnik, large and covered with fine embroidery and colourful stones of green and blue. It felt firm in your hands. And it wanted to be worn. Like a crown, proud and bright for a special day. At least one thing you would have for your wedding day.

You thought back a sob at the thought of your torn wedding dress, your fingers still holding the precious crown like an anchor.

“I am sure König will gladly help you put it on. But don’t lose it. I made it for you and there is no other like it. It will protect you when you walk in the forest.”

“I…”, you huffed, “…don’t know what to say. This is very beautiful. Thank you.”

Ghost just waved with his hand like it was nothing.

“Don’t say anything and just wear it to keep you safe. Do me that favour.”

You nodded, out of words.

“Well, I’ll be gone then. The forest calls me.” Ghost turned to the door and you started to get up to send him off. “Don’t you dare get up, sister. What’s the point of the Kokoshnik if you fall sick from the cold and exhaustion. No, stay right where you are.”

You fell back onto your spot, the moss blanket encasing you like a cocoon of earthly smell and warmth.

“Save travels then, Ghost.” You spoke. “Thank you again.”

“Don’t mention it.” He waved and stepped outside, followed by König.

You sat there, hearing them talk and laugh and wishing each other well without making much out of it.

Then, finally, Ghost was away.

The rest of your day was spent alone with your own thoughts. König, aside from making sure you ate and rested, hardly spoke to you. His distance confused you. It gave a feeling of newfound loneliness when you stared at the unfamiliar ceiling with the wrong knots in the wood and the wrong bedding around you as you leaned against the oven. Ghost’s reassurances just a couple of hours ago now felt like a lie. You were no queen. And there was no way for you to live long enough to ever learn how to be one for König that was good enough. No standing on a box or life saving spells could change that. The finality of your fate was devastatingly simple. You would drown and König, your beloved König, would find himself a better queen. Why else did he withdraw himself like that?

The mauling insecurities inside of you stopped you from asking.

Instead you listened to König rummaging upstairs while you dozed under your moss blanket, practised drawing letters in the ashes of your oven or thought about how you could fix your wedding dress. It was pointless but you had little else to do and so you continued like you had always done.

König had brought the dress out together with the rest of your wet belongings, hanging it up to dry in the sun. The liberating concentration kept you from your dark thoughts: you had watched the dress through the window, mentally placing one piece of rag over the other in the hopes of possibly having a saving idea as the rags swayed gently in the breeze. It had worked until the light grew low and the trees around the house in the garden had started to spawn more unpleasant shadows than welcome distractions.

You got up from your cosy spot and started preparing dinner. Still feeling weak, your legs carried you with a slight tremor as your whole body was plagued by a deep tiredness. It came from all those times not resting. It felt like all those tears not shed. It was a tiredness that wasn’t fixed by sleeping longer one night because it was deeper than the soreness in your muscles and bones. It was the dark abyss of water calling for you. But you could lie to yourself. Opting to go to bed and calling it a day in the hopes that tomorrow would be better. Sometimes, giving up was actually a smart thing.

You huffed, once again forced to consider the reality of your situation.

Going to bed? Where? Your bedroom was destroyed. And the other rooms in your house had been packed up and sealed when your family died. Back then it was too much to bear seeing their things and looking at the places they used to rest. Even now, under no condition were you ready or willing to disturb those rooms. The easiest for you would probably be to sleep here in the kitchen.

But what about König? Would he need to sleep too? Flood the rest of the house and destroy every last bit of habitable space as he took you out in your sleep? Or would he leave you tonight and watch as the human-monsters and monsters-monsters finally had their feast with you. The thought nearly entertained you. Maybe that was better than drowning and at least some poor Tschort would enjoy a bit of your precious meat.

You chuckled at your own morbid thoughts.

But it was not night yet, and maybe there was a bit of queenly pride inside of you yet as you decided to brace yourself for an overdue conversation with König, leaning against the kitchen counter for support.

You opted to make some food. Since it might be your last chance to enjoy a meal before you became a meal, you took your time. There was not much to be done for dinner: heating the left-over stew, cutting some bread made of acorn flour, setting the table. After you finished, you steeled yourself for the hardest part.

“König?” You called upstairs. “Would you like to eat dinner with me?”

You held your breath and waited as the rumbling from upstairs stopped.

“It’s fine if you are busy, but I am hungry and would love your company,” You coaxed.

Heavy steps sounded through the wooden house, causing the old stairs to creak under the weight of the Vodyanoy.

König emerged into the kitchen, bowing down slightly under the marginally too low ceiling and looking at you sheepishly.

“Are you sure, Bride?” He asked. “I haven’t finished repairing your room.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise, too stunned to speak before you swallowed down a good chunk of your raging insecurities. 

“So that’s what you have been doing up there,” You finally said. “I did not know.”

König looked to the ground like he had been caught stealing goodies from the pantry. It was a look that made your knees weaker than even a day facing terrors could.

“I wanted to repair it. I wanted to apologise with more than words. It’s what good kings ought to do.” He explained looking immensely guilty.

Your breath hitched.

He cared?

You looked down, still thinking of your room and your ruined wedding dress. It did hurt you.

But there was hope because he cared. You nearly hated yourself how desperate you were from the affection of someone who you could never have.

“It’s fine,” You said, after a few moments of heavy silence as you fought the storm inside of you. “It’s fine for now. We will make it work and repair it together. It’s, ah, fine.”

He looked relieved as you looked up from your hands.

“I also want to apologise,” You continued. The words in your mouth felt relieving to spit out like bitter medicine. “I thought about this. I was really cross at you. Not entirely sure how much nicer I could have been considering the moment. But I don’t strive to talk to others like that, especially not my fiance. I just felt hurt and alone.”

He turned his head like the Heron when hunting little fish in the water.

“You have every right to be angry, dear,” König stated

“I...” You tried before stopping and starting anew. “That does not mean I am proud or okay with my words. Especially after Ghost explained to me that you probably overworked yourself on my behalf. I am not sure how to feel about that yet but it does not make me feel good. I don’t want you to suffer because of me. I feel so guilty. And like a burden.”

König stared at you.

“Dear,” He said softly. “I know you want to be good and kind. I know you are. But please give me your bad as well.”

You blinked at him.

“What?”

He raised his arms like a man at a loss of word, stumbling around the room until he turned back to you.

“Guess how I feel failing you over and over again when your reaction to me is kindness and surrender? I feel bad. The worst! Don’t do this to me. Be a burden. Be angry. Be the biggest inconvenient person wherever you go. Please be angry and demand better of me! I want all of you. Not just the nice parts.”

Your head was spinning. Was he…? Did he really…?

“I am not good enough!” König continued his tirade with a voice rising louder and louder like a tea kettle that had reached its boiling point. “I am who puts you in danger over and over again. I hardly protect you from the dangers of the world. I am a danger of the world. I am making a poor husband for you. But the reality is, I am not good enough to step away because I am selfish. So, how dare you make yourself feel any less than you are.”

His eyes gleamed with a madness you had never seen before in him as he lowered his voice with the last of his words. It was dangerous. A sign of warning that told you to step back and run as far away as you could like a good girl should.

But you were just invited to leave that behind you.

“I don't want you to leave either!” You hit back, squaring up to the challenge. “I just don’t want to feel like I am a constant problem. I am just a human! A peasant! And a bad one at that since I will likely starve next winter without help! I know nothing of how to be a queen! I nearly drown all the time! How can you not understand that I don’t feel like I am allowed to be a problem when my reality is that no one cares if I live or die!”

“Because you are wrong! I care.” König's eyes gleamed as he hissed his answer.

“Why?” You spit back, the fire in you burning and ready to torch any bridge behind without thinking.

“Because I love you.”

Königs words hung in the air, irretrievable and powerful enough to break whatever you two had.

You looked at him. His face was frozen in fear and panic. Like he had admitted to a crime he’d sworn to keep a secret.

He loved you. The thought raced through your mind, unsure where to be put and what to do with it now.

“I am sorry,” König said. “I understand. I will make sure you are okay as promised anyway and-”

“Please…” you managed to your own surprise.

“Please?” König asked with his eyes shining down at you.

You took a deep breath and all the courage in you that was left, “Please lean down so I can kiss you.”

König looked at you, too stunned maybe or unsure how to touch you without breaking this human body of yours, before finally kneeling down in one, not so smooth, motion. You stumbled forward, colliding into his chest and tangling in his arms before lifting your head and kissing him.

It was all teeth and desperation. König met your lips with a hunger matching yours, and an anger challenging your long hidden fury. He moaned and you wanted every bit of air you could get from him as you roamed his back and shoulders and arms and chest and neck, and at a certain point you got lost in him. You bit his lips and tasted blood. He snarled and pushed you back, catching your head before you could fall and hurt yourself. You stumbled and fell back anyway, taking him with you. The crash rumbled loudly as König caught himself on his arms, hovering above you before continuing where you had left off. His mouth was addicting, and willingly you answered his salty lips and tongue. A bit of revealed skin at his neck here, a tug at your shirt there. You scooted up feeling hot and needing that damn old shirt off your body because you were burning up with it. Instead of getting it off quickly you got yourself tangled in the large sleeves, nearly ready to just tear it off your body as you felt Königs hands pulling at the fabric and freeing you. The kiss of the cooling air on your skin made you still. For a moment you felt shy, making you cross your arms in instinct before your chest.

König looked at you from a position that was something between kneeling, sitting and lying before you, also half out of his clothes with his Rubacha hanging around his neck and head.

“Not sure why I feel like this is new, now.” You admitted. “You have seen me naked before.”

“That was a different nakedness,” König offered and finished getting the shirt off. “This is new.”

You nodded, understanding entirely what he meant, and continued to feel vulnerable. What were you supposed to do? You had no idea what you wanted now except being close to König.

“We don’t have to continue, my love.” Your fiance said.

You nodded again, reassured yet still utterly lost on what to do.

König scooted closer and slowly raised his hands, “Can I touch you? I just want to hold you.”

Instead of bothering with words or another creative and variety serving nod, you leaned into him. Königs warm hands caught you, pressed you closer to him and embraced you.

You hummed.

“Is this good?”

“Yeah, I am sorry-”

“No,” König shut down instantly. “No more ‘sorry’ for you tonight. Or ever. I really meant that.”

You knitted your eyebrows together in confusion.

“But what if I do something bad?” You countered as you enjoyed feeling close to König. “Shouldn’t I say sorry at some point?”

“To me? Always.” König grinned teasingly before growing serious. “The rest of the world, however, has a lot of apologising to do before you ever get back into a situation to be sorry for something, dear.”

“You just want me to be as bad as you are,” You teased back half-heartedly.

“Naturally.”

You stayed silent, not sure what to say or do except enjoying being safe and loved in Königs arms as you mindlessly explored his back and chest with your fingers, drawing little circles and charms into his wonderful skin.

“We should talk about the sleeping situation tonight.” You finally spoke, breaking the silent spell over you.

“Yeah.” König agreed. “I have an idea.”

Cultural Context Notes:

The theme of the unkillable giants as beings connected to nature can be found in the Edda, but it’s not the only place this theme is explored. It’s just the most clear one I thought of, and can be put into words as a place to maybe start researching if your are interested in that. The idea of hitting König as something akin to a giant to wake him up, comes from the tale of Thor and Skrímnir.

Generally, the idea of paralleling gods/godlike beings, humans and giants, escalated into a bit of a philosophical excursion at the kitchen table when I mentioned how the story is unfolding, leading to the question what exactly the difference between godlings, giants and humans is and if there even is one. In plenty of pre-Christian European tales, there aren’t boundaries between godlike beings and humans. If a human stays with a godlike being, they kind of tag along and don’t die like they would have had when staying with their fellow humans. Sometimes there is an explanation for it (godly ancestry, nectar or Idun’s apples, magical blessings), sometimes there isn’t (Thialfi and Röskva as Thor’s entourage, general trope of humans in service of or in marriage with a non-human being). 

Warming stones or using ceramics is an old practice when hot water bottles weren’t available.

There are several legends and myths associating the water or waters generally with snakes. Naturally, there is the saga of the Midgard snake, encompassing the world in Norse mythology. The theme of a great water snake or mermaid-like half-fish, half-human body encompassing the world also comes up in Greek mythology in the figure of Oceanos as the great river god and father of river gods. Since we don’t have plenty of sources about old Slavic beliefs, I am taking the liberty and filling some gaps here from geographically closer regions where we do have more sources on mythology.

Acorn is edible and can be made into a fine flour from which it is possible to bake bread. However, do not just make flour from acorns. It’s a huge process to disinfect and debitter acorns before grinding them into flour. There is a reason why nowadays most cultures opt for utilising cultivated crops like grains and legumes instead of using low yield giving nuts and seeds. (Also, we really need those acorns as food for wild animals and for reforestation!) Cultivation of plants is a huge game changer for human life quality and communal living. It’s really cool. But it does require more cooperative systems of labour since harvesting and processing plants like grain requires sharing of work, space to do it, and natural weather & ground conditions to grow. Plus the grain in itself needs to be cultivated first. And these amazing food sources can be exploited by having control over places in which one can grow certain high yielding crops which can trigger war and oppression. Most noticeably in the Central and Eastern European region, which is obviously what I write about a lot, this is the case with Ukraine. This now independent country has good climate and ground conditions, yielding great harvests of wheat grain and sunflower, leading to the region being dubbed the Granary of Europe. Ukraine was fought over not just today but also occupied in historical moments like WW2 by the Nazis or under the Russian Empire precisely to have access to these high yielding conditions. So, food and where food comes from, is an important angle to understand plenty of conflicts, imperial oppression and cultures. I invite you to read more about the history of grain, why Ukraine has a flag literally depicting a grain filed under the blue sky or maybe learning how to make bread yourself. To return to my point:  Bride lives in an area which has seasons. However, the climate is cooler with lots of swamps and waters around. The forest takes most of the shore space in her immediate vicinity. She has a garden in which she (tries to) grow buckwheat, a very climate-resistant pseudo grain. And technically she owns fields, but has no way to work them on her own due to the lack of manpower, possible lack of seeds, as well as timing issues for the sowing. But common grains like wheat require a warm and steady dry climate which is not the case here. Other grains like rye are historically common in Central and Eastern Europe, however one needs to plant them first and after the harvest it still requires labour to dry and deshell the rye first, a luxury that Bride does not have because she has been on her own for most of the year. So, to finish this long excursion on grains and flours - she uses acorn flour for bread because she was isolated and on her own. Also, agriculture is really cool and maybe you will think about the amount of labour, logistics, politics and historical development when biting into something flour based.

Vodyanitza is just the female version of Vodynoy

Rubacha is the name of the traditional linen shirt worn by historically both men and women but nowadays mostly associated with male clothing traditions. This shirt is often loosely fitted and bound at the hip with a belt. Having embroidery, especially red embroidery on a Rubacha is very common as red natural dye was widely available in the region. The embroidery and introduction of other colours is dependent on the exact time and place a Rubacha comes from. Even nowadays the Rubacha is part of plenty of Eastern European traditional dresses.

Quick reminder: a Tschort is a type of evil spirit.

Would you like to be tagged as well? send me a message.

@thesinsoflust @kdkj122920 @die-prophetin @lillianastuff @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @fatedeniedhope @queensidillasworld @agspgrwasb @silelda @unlikepoltergeist @matcha-flavored-cake @blvkwondaland @diamondnightdreamer @brooklyn-1918 @thorns-x @icepancakes @sizzlingsaladpeach @peachymonsters @blackrockshooter780 @cl3rks @king-thunderstorm @hosshihusshi @id0nthaveidea @perilous-pasta @lothiriel9 @berryjuicyy @asmohunny @amatis-gray @blubumblebee @ofmenanduhhhwellmen @c00kied0ugh44 @quesowakanda @moonlitmoonpie @ktmjoslin @globalmilk03 @interactive-brain @dark-rosy-amaranthine @quietlyignoringyou @hey-assbutt35

[itsagrimm]

i took a nearly year long break from a series and despite that I can see that the same handful of people are still reading it.

this means a lot.

thank you.

[itsagrimm]

Do we know when a new chapter for he who comes from the water will be?

I am finishing up the last lines so it should be done this or next week, depending on what @queenquazar as the best beta reader one could ask for, will say about this draft.

it took me longer than expected. sorry for the wait.

[itsagrimm]

i miss 'he who comes from under the water' so much, i really loved it <3 will you ever update or have you abandoned it? i hope everything is going well in your life <3

thank you so much. i got frustrated writing it and took a break. however. i have been looking at the draft these last days, combing through my previously made mess.

[itsagrimm]

your he who comes from under the water fic is giving me vibes from ancient magnus bride. powerful eldritch being husbands and their headstrong wifey

oh, that wasn't an intentional parallel but it's a welcome one. thank you so much for your kind words. i love the ancient magus bride. should rewatch that this autumn. right after finishing he who comes from under the water. i'm still working on the new chapter and would like to finish it soon since i take so long with it.

[itsagrimm]

i am currently having an epic end boss level fist fight with german bureaucracy so updates for 'He Who Comes from under the Water' are coming slower than expected as I don't have much time.

oh and i am currently working on some og writing on top of the ongoing series yay

[itsagrimm]

took a nap so good i dreamed how i'll finish the next chapter of 'He who Comes from under the Water'.

[itsagrimm]

might actually have time to write today

[itsagrimm]

typing up my notes for "He Who Comes from under the Water" after travelling and not writing on my laptop a lot.

have a little sketch of sleeping Bride. i am so bad at imagining someones look which in this case works well with writing a reader insert. so uhm, yeah. if you imagine her differently, feel free to tag me bc i absolutely would love to see Bride more and this is the unfortunate peak of my art skills.

[itsagrimm]

aahhhhh the sleeping in the bathtub one is may fav

thank you so much. i love it

He who comes from under the water Memes

I tried

@itsagrimm it's my first time doing this. I hope it's good

[itsagrimm]

Not an ask! I just wanted to pop in and say your monster!könig series is fucking beautiful! I just found it!

I love your writing!

The way you wrote the characters and scenes. I'm not a writer, but I just had to tell you how much I love this story! Life changing 🙌

I was so absorbed in the plot, then you pop in Ghost lore where he said he thought he ate soap...

You broke my heart in just a sentence 💔

I don't want to sound rude, but will we know more about ghost and soap?

(Do they find each other again? I love that sappy shit lol)

hi, thank you so much for your lovely words.

i am glad you like it. i am currently a bit on a writing break out of pragmatic reasons. my uni and work obligations keep me from writing and finishing the series despite having a draft for the missing 2-3 chapters and a notebook full of notes.

i also have a few notes on ghost and soap. of course. can't go without some over the top world building. but i wasn't sure if i could commit to another project and write more on them. especially as i am not sure people are interested in that and have little practice writing mlm content. i am a bit of a perfectionist with my writing and it leads me to overdo it with the size and extend of my stories. "he who comes from under the water" was a one shot originally and see where it got us.

in short - i do not know.

[itsagrimm]

Judging only based and hwcfutw you are more than a monster enjoyer on this more-than-just-monster-enjoyer site

i consider myself a monster connoisseur. i like monster themes but i am picky. i suppose everyone has their tastes and interests and preferences. 😌

[itsagrimm]

Hi there! Hope you’ve been doing well :3 I’m recently reading your great story “He who comes from under the water” and I’m barely on chapter 6 where simon ghost Riley appears ahhh 🤭 and I was wondering… will you ever write another fanfic about ghost (king of the forest) falling in love with a reader and having his own romance story? I love the way you write fairy tales and I’m obsessed with romantic fairy stories like that 🥰

hello and a big thank you!

yes i would love to write more fairy tale-eske stories. however, i am the slowest writer on this site apparently plus i have a fairly busy everyday life as a law student so no guarantees when i will write for ghost. i am currently making my way through writing chapter 12 of hwcfutw and it takes ages as i don't have that much time to write generally, lost the first draft due to data loss once, and fell too sick to write a couple of times.

so, in a way i am a bit sorry that you like my writing style (thank you!) but it comes with the curse of being made by the slowest writer on the planet (my condolences).

Ghost will have his moment at some point.

[itsagrimm]

may or may not publish könig fics again soon.

when the könig content i crave is missing so i have to do it myself

[itsagrimm]

He who Comes from under the Water

Chapter 4 - Deep Waters

Monster!König X she/her afab Reader

CN mentions of sex, mentions of sexual assault and rape, trauma and fear of water, sexism and patriarchy, reader get’s insulted and attacked, nearly drowning and panic, talk of murder, planning murder, nudity (both sexualised and unsexual)

Notes for better understanding at the bottom!

Also I wrote this sick and being kept alive by aspirins so sorry if 'this not peak.

Beta-read by @queenquazar. Check out her beautiful writing!

Masterlist

The tea in front of you was too hot to drink yet. Its smell pleasant and its dark colour flowed around as you stirred the steamy liquid, lost in your thoughts.

You missed your family and friends coming over for tea. You remember talking while trying the freshly made berry jam in summer and sharing laughs, advice, and a shoulder to cry on. Your giggly girlfriends talking about gossip they had heard, lips they had kissed, tears that had to be shed. Or your mother, calmly but steady, laying out her thoughts and judgement in front of you and your brother, dissecting those who dared harm her or her loved ones down to the bone.

None of that anymore.

Just one cup of the dark brew.

No one else at your table to talk about König. You assumed your mother would approve of you marrying a king just out of pragmatism, but object massively to you marrying a king of under the waters, a man of powers no human could understand. 

No, absolutely not, my daughter. What do you expect to do when I want to visit you, hm? Turn myself into a frog to swim to you, hm? Or will he live with us and command the buckets to water the fields on their own? Don’t be ridiculous. That is dangerous magic and I’ll not have you harmed. Also, he needs a haircut. No, I don’t care what your grandfather has said. I will fight this König off with the wood axe if needed. King or not, he is not getting my beloved daughter. No, no, no.

You smiled softly at the thought of your mother taking one look at König and his wet, algae tangled hair and being utterly unimpressed.

He is tall. Do you think he has a big dick?

The thought of your friends musing about your fiancés cock made you grin, warmed your cheeks and remember you had tea to drink.

Oh, hot!

You nearly spit out your tea as you grimaced from the burn. You should not have been distracted. Instead of thinking about your fiancés dick, you should be thinking about what you had to do until he came by. In a strange moment of unsteadiness, you had invited him over. The man you weren’t entirely sure was safe to be around.

Besides, he said he just needed a queen and would never touch you.

The memory filled you with a strange feeling you could not place – hot and excited, but also afraid and insecure.

I have other things to do, you thought to yourself and got up, leaving your cup and your confusing thoughts behind at the table.

I don’t need to worry about that, he said so himself.

Strangely, you believed him. There was so much you questioned about König- who he was and what he wanted from you. But, he was not out to harm you this way felt like certainty.

It was a lot of work to clean the house by yourself and prepare everything for the visit. You scrubbed the wooden floor, cleaned the kitchen, and set the table in preparation for later.

The only thing left to clean was you.

You looked down at your worn dress and your stained apron.

Yes, all that was left to clean was you and your clothes. Indecisive, you balanced back and forth from your toes to the ball of your feet. You could just not do that.

König maybe wouldn’t even notice.

But you had to clean your clothing at some point and needed to wash yourself with more than just the water from the well, no matter how much you feared the deep waters after nearly drowning.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath before collecting your laundry in a basket and grabbing a little piece of soap.

“Master Heron!” you called, stepping out of the house, “I am going down to the river to do some washing.”

The bird, dosing in the shadow, opened his eyes.

“Let me go with you, maiden,” It spoke as it staggered up on its twiggy legs.

“It’s fine,” You heard yourself say with a security you did not feel. “I should be back soon.”

The bird tilted its head as if giving you a judging look but said nothing as you waved and walked from the house.

Normally, you would wander through the village, calling for someone to come with you. Maybe one of your friends that wanted to wash themselves as well or a tired parent in need of having to do some quick laundry for the little ones. But you could not do that anymore. All of them had agreed to shun you because of the rumour of your curse. Or maybe they laid in wait for you to die or vanish to steal your family’s house and fields. The veneer of civility had grown thin, and you did not know anymore what monstrous act would come out of the village next.

The day was warm, and it was almost pleasant to wander at the edge of resting fields and through the woods with the jays singing and playing high above your head in the trees. Instead of going to your usual spot, you decided to walk up-river to make sure you would be alone and not accidentally meet someone from the village. At a spot with shallow waters and lots of gravel and stones, you decided to dare enter the water. With a quick glance around the waters and a firm stare at the water, you undressed and stepped inside.

Fear and pleasure instantly fought inside of you.

The water was warm from the sun and the sun kissed gravel filled riverbed. But it was water, and you felt the soft but steady flow tugging around your ankles. Carefully and with clenched teeth, you tiptoed on until you were in the water to your knees and deep enough to start washing your clothes. Putting down the basket onto one of the bigger stones rising from the water you paused. Your breath was laboured as if fighting again for air. Heaving and gasping you stood there, until your mind slowed down enough for you to grab your little soap and start scrubbing the first piece of fabric.

Banning all other thoughts from your mind you worked through your pile of laundry and distributed your clothes onto warm stone for drying until you were done.

Now all you had left to do was wash yourself in deeper water.

You opened your plaits and raked through them a few times with your fingers as much as you could, massaging your scalp to calm yourself just like your mother and friends had done for you like you had done for them.

With your little soap in your hand, you stepped further into the water. At half your thigh you stopped, the water getting dark and deep before you.

Just like the pond.

“What a whore! Presenting your ass to the world and running around naked. Do you want to be taken that much? Is that how you got this König?”

You jumped around.

At the edge of the riverbed stood Ivar, arrogant and with a furious look in his eyes.

“You lied,” he accused, and you twitched from fear under the hatefulness of his words. “You lied, did you not? Who is this König?”

“Did you follow me, Ivar?” A different kind of fear rose in your throat.

“Answer me, whore!” he shouted, pointing an accusing finger towards you. ” Did you present yourself to this man like you do to me now?”

You glanced at the water in front of you. There was no escape except for the dark swirling river.

“I did not and have never presented myself ever to anyone, Ivar. And even if, what would that be to you?” You answered with more calm than you felt, “You are the one creeping around and staring at me washing myself. It’s in your mind not mine.”

You turned around, facing Ivar, “What is wrong with you, Ivar? Have you nothing better to do? Can you not see that I have nothing, am nothing and will never be anything to you? Leave me!”

It was as if those words, despite your fear and nakedness, resonated from somewhere deep inside of you, not out of fear or pride, but from the continuous exhaustion of having to fight.

He stared at you, speechless and with a surprised face before anger and hatred twisted and scrunched his features again.

“Whore!” Ivar screamed. “How dare you? I will teach you how to talk to me!”

Not caring about the water and his shoes, he stepped into the river, reaching forward and for you. Whimpering and stumbling, your foot slipped on one of the smooth river stones underneath the watery surface, making you fall.

Your head hit the river and you screamed, swallowing water, not air.

In a panic you scrambled to get up again, your foot slipped again, and lost purchase on the stone littered river floor.

A hand snatched you, your hands swinging and scratching, trying to land kicks in Ivar’s direction – the fear of Ivar bigger than the fear of water.

Instead of letting you go, the hand yanked you from under the water and you coughed, gasping for air. Water ran over your face, blinding you, blood rushing through your ears, making you lash out again at Ivar.

Instead of a hit, Ivar gripped your hands and pressed you closer and held you steady.

The water dripped off your face, clearing your vision slightly.

“Shhh, shhhh, shhhh, it’s me. It’s me, beautiful. It’s okay. You are safe,” König mumbled above you. König held you in his arms, hushing you and keeping you lifted out of the waters. Safe. 

Your gasping for air turned into sobs, shaking your body as you clung to him.

“Where do you come from?” You heard Ivar shout from somewhere.

“Leave!” König growled, “Leave or die, Ivar.”

Ivar screamed something but you weren’t listening. Your sobs too loud for you to catch the man’s words as you cried.You had done nothing wrong and kept to yourself. Only once had you dared leaving your house on your own and it brought you nothing but misery. Frustration and exhaustion rolled down your checks.

After a while, your shaking and your sobs grew less violent, and a tired calm settled into your bones. König still held you, not moving or saying anything, just keeping you close and swaying around slightly like a boat on a lake.

“Is he…”

“He is gone,” König hummed. “Fear nothing, my bride.”

Shifting around you remembered that you were naked in his arms.

“König, can you let me go please?” you croaked.

He nodded and started to move you down, but as the water splashed against your legs, you shrieked and jolted back up, away from the dark water.

“Sorry, could you let me down on land?” you asked while fighting to calm your breath once again.

He waded out of the river and put you down onto the stony beach before turning around, checking your left out laundry from the stones.

“They are still wet, dear.” He called over, “Are you okay with waiting a bit more for them to dry? I can keep you company and get them for you once they are done.”

You nodded and sat down, covering your naked form as much as you could with your arms and angled legs.

König returned and sat down next to you, leaving a bit of space between you, and stared at the water in silence. Exhaustion crept up your body, a lull of calm from the rush of adrenaline.

“Thank you.”

König only nodded at your words. He looked human, naked, as if he was here to bathe in the river. His skin tanned and touched by the sun, his hair open and wavy from the water.

It felt normal sitting next to him as if it meant nothing that neither of you was clothed, just two people enjoying the summer days without expectation or judgement.

Your eyes fell onto bloody scratches on his arms.

“Did I do that?” you asked, feeling guilty pointing at his arms.

“You were in a panic. It is nothing. It will heal.” König waved it off as if it meant nothing. “Are you feeling better?”

You considered the question, how much it asked and how you felt alone, broken, and abandoned by everyone you had known. You were trapped hanging onto a house reminding you of all you had lost, trapped with the villagers wanting you gone or dead, trapped in a promise of marriage you never really agreed on. And now you have discovered more things to fear than ever before.

The loneliness.

The water.

Ivar.

König lifted his arm at your continued silence, and you moved closer to lean against him. It was simple. König was part of the trap around you. He was strange and there were many things you did not understand about him.

But he was warm and there for you.

His body solid against your shattered frame and you felt no shame leaning against him and enjoying his comforting arm around you.

“How did you know I needed help?” you asked.

“The water.” König said, “I rule all that flows. I knew you were here and wanted to give you some space. But as soon as Ivar stepped into the water, I knew something was wrong.”

You hummed in acknowledgment.

“Dear,” König paused carefully, “with your blessing I will kill Ivar. He has tried to harm you too often. He will not cease unless he is stopped but no one will do that except us.”

You felt nothing as you heard those words, no shock or surprise or fear.

All your once blooming kindness for Ivar as a friend of your father was gone.

You did not even feel happiness at the thought of him feeling a twinge of fear or pain like he had caused you.

“They will say I have cursed him too.” You stated monotonously.

“Likely.”

For a brief moment you thought about Ivar’s family and all the others grieving and pointing at you, calling you his murderer - death by curse. You couldn't care less anymore what the village might say about you anymore.

“Let them talk.”

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Cultural content notes:

Black tea or just ‘tea’ is very popular in many eastern European, Asian and north-west German regions. It’s not super correct timeline wise but we’ll ignore that. This is just a not so subtle way of including tea culture stuff.

“Мыть кости” is Russian and means to gossip about someone. Its literal translation is to wash someone blank to their bare bones.

 Soap (the item not the character) is not a modern invention. I remember my family buying this tallow-based soap for cleaning which is from one of the simplest soap recipes I know of and likely would fit into the geographical space this story is set in. It’s essentially just the oil from the tallow and ash, making a simple but effective cleaning product which theoretically could be made at home everywhere. I would like to add that Aleppo, the city in Syria, has had a somewhat continuous production of fine soap made from olive oil since the 8th century. I found that remarkable.

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