A/N: I have wanted to write some Jacob/Kira for quite some time now. It will mostly be ficlets and drabbles for now, but I hope to do a full fic sometime in the future. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
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He slept within the walls. Cracked plaster and splintered beams cradling his massive frame. It was the only place he felt truly safe, away from the prying eyes of those who would invade his territory. Those who came with weapons and their staring eyes. Hungry eyes that ate away at his soul piece by piece. His light, fitful sleep was usually disturbed by the invaders. They came during the day when they knew the Monster was sleeping. Only the sun burning high in the sky kept them safe from his wrath. Those who ventured in after dark fell to his might and fed his monstrous appetite.
Her ragged breath soothed him. If he woke, his large hand reached up and and rough fingertips whispered across The Holy. He felt her shift under his hands, soft whimpers coming from her lips. He kept her hanging from her wrists on a meat-hook. He hung her facing the wall so those eyes that reflected his own would not seek him out.
She was his. His Earthly Goddess whom he had torn from the clutches of the invading tribe. They were coming for her, he knew this to be true. She was the source of their power and they needed her back in order to defeat him. He wasn't going to let her out of his sight.
The Monster had caught one of the invaders trying to remove his Goddess from her alter of twisted wire and metal. Out of all of them, she had fought the hardest. This Warrior Woman, the Guardian of The Holy. In her hands, any and all things were a weapon and she attacked him with the strength and the conviction of the Devout and the Faithful. He was almost sad to see that burning light fade from her eyes, but he could not risk The Holy. Many others would fall in their quest to aquire the Priestess. The Warrior Woman was just the first.
It always fascinated him that each and every animal had just enough brains to tan its own hide. The process was a lengthy and hard one, but it was the only way he knew how. It never occured to him to worry that he could not remember where or how he had learnt to do such things. It was just second nature to him now. The skin of The Holy's Guardian now resided by her alter. Stretched out to dry before he could use it. Her flesh salted and stored in the coldest part of his lair. Her hair joined the multicoloured coil of rope he kept wound around his waist. Her bones sharpened to daggers.
The Monster did not like to waste the bounty which he had been blessed with.
He shifted and the beams groaned. The plaster flaked and dusted his huge body. He slowly opened his good eye and looked up at her. Bound above him, the Shamen had ribbons of sickly light rippling over her back. She stiffened as if feeling his gaze and a soft shuddering breath left her parched lips.
The floorboards creaked in protest as the Giant shifted to his knees. Large hands placed on the wall either side of his Goddess as he knelt before her. Eyes closed and deep breaths before slowly openning them and allowing his gaze to drift up her trembling form. Chipped, broken fingernails scraped the crumbling wall as a large hand moved to hover over her back. He kept her with him always now, his Moving Temple. His most holy of alters. Stale breath shuddered over trembling lips as steady fingers slipped beneath tattered, stained cotton.
And there it was. The Holy. He knelt before its majesty, swallowing hard and breathing shallow. Rough fingertips traced the lines as the Goddess shook and moaned in misery beneath his hand. She was His. He would not let her out of his sight. Not again. She belonged to him.
His Goddess. His prize.
