Summary: Alfred is from a village that believes in superstitions. He discovers a satyr named Arthur who might have some relationship to this change in weather. Warning: Vulgar language used.

A/N: This fic is included in the USUKUS twice per year event on Tumblr! This is just the individual work that was included within one of the many awesome artworks and writings everyone contributed to the book.

Anyone who wants to participate for the next event can check it out at:

usukustwiceperyear on tumblr

Alfred had only ever known three parts of an entire year. There was the Cloudless, consisting of long periods of exposure to the light of day and sunburnt backsides, the Barren, when the trees began to shed their colorful leaves into a mess of puddles and northern winds, and the Fruitful, as the time implied the rebirthing of the tree's leaves and plants. It was a typical cycle that was well known and celebrated upon within the small village up upon the mountain tops.

From the time of his upbringing in primary school, Alfred, along with all the other kids in the class at the time, wouldn't of ever thought of an occasion in their lives where they would have to encounter anyone who would say there were more than three. The teachers encouraged everyone to hold up their three fingers with smiles encompassing missing teeth and goofy expressions. They'd say their prayers to the respective Seasonal Gods after eating breakfast in the morning and just before going to bed in the evenings.

Unlike those kids, however, Alfred himself personally enjoyed the musings of the Barren occasion. It meant times when the leaves would fall off the trees and the weather would be cool enough for him to step out without shriveling like a prune from the heat (it was rather unattractive to get red skin). It was an adoration that never left his mind, and he continuously insisted upon sleeping outside in solo camping trips, much to his brother's dismay.

But he was happy during these times. Why would anyone want to pass the opportunity to not lay amongst a precipitation of red and yellow? Alfred usually didn't even bother with a tent, choosing instead to enjoy the time even resting in just his clothes underneath the trees and shaking the leaves out of his hair. Sometimes he had occasions where he'd get sick, but despite what it was worth, he couldn't even imagine any other time that was more blissful than this time of the year.

This thought was the last thing he remembered before the following morning, when the time came for Alfred to wake up from one his outdoor siesta excursions. Panic built within him as he tried to tug his eyes open, they didn't seem to want to open no matter how hard he raised his eyebrows, and when he tried to raise his hands to touch around his eyelids, he felt his joints stiffen up and his body finally registering how cold it suddenly became. He couldn't move.

What t-the.. hell?

Alfred's teeth clattered behind his clothes lips. They were frozen shut too. His nose began to crust up and he couldn't quite raise his voice; his throat felt dry and his tone was weak. And he was shaking. Uncontrollably.

Alfred felt like he was going to die at that instant. He tried to get himself to stand on his feet, fighting the stiffness before someone seemed to grab his shoulders.

"... I'm here." The voice was quiet and soft. "I see you, lad."

The tone carried with it a strange accent he hadn't heard of before in his life. Alfred tried to fight out another reply before the hands of whoever was there with him seemed to help support and him sitting up. His eyes were still iced shut and he felt himself unable to prevent himself being light headed as he recalled at last plummeting face first into the snow when the man let go of his shoulders and knocking out.

The crackling of a nearby fire was what stirred Alfred awake when he finally came to. His eyes finally cooperated with him, and his vision finally returned to him after spotting the flames in the corner of what appeared to be a wooden room, and he himself was situated upon a soft mattress bed; the inside of which felt somewhat similar to that of inside a...tree. Nearby the hearth, his gaze drifted upon the form of something only out of a storybook. There was a person standing there, with horns curled right over his ears like that of a mountain goat. His legs up to his waist were completely covered in what looked like fur hair, matched with large, fine hoofs and a tail that occasionally flicked when he moved his hands. The animal man turned around, meeting Alfred's gaze before promptly going up to him with a bowl of soup and a towel in his hand.

"Can you sit up?"

Alfred's mind tried to shake off his shock before doing as he was told, but already growing light headed once again as he did so. He grasped his temple with his palm, squeezing his eyes shut to try and lessen the pressure on his head.

"Ugh, sorry. I'm… I'm not feeling well. I'm seeing things."

"Hallucinations?" the voice prompted, seeming to sound genuinely concerned. "What are you seeing?"

"...you've got horns on your head. And a tail. And horse legs."

"Goat legs. And perhaps if you weren't in my bed right now, I'd have the heart to kick you out." the voice grumbled then. "Here. You're going to have to drink this, the fire alone isn't going to make you warm up."

Alfred did as he was told, no longer seeming to want to question the vision. He finished the broth (it tasted like stale water and extra grass) before eventually seeming to then feel his headache subside. But the man before him was still with his obscure animal extensions. The man looked back at him as well, as if also just as curious to see Alfred before him in his bed.

"...anything else hurt?"

"No. Thank you," Alfred said to him in return, trying a grateful smile. "... name's Alfred. Sorry you had to catch me in the middle of a fever. I didn't think Barren would be this cold."

"A fever is an understatement," The creature rose an eyebrow. "Barren? Sorry, I don't think I've ever heard of such a term." But he extended a hand. "Call me Arthur."

"Arthur," Alfred recited. His smile seemed to the finally subside to an expression of true curiosity. His gaze darted back to the large ram like horns upon Arthur's head as he then seemed to slowly raise a hand in the direction. To touch it.

Arthur was quick to stand up, huffing.

"If you're starting to feel better, I'd suggest you finally collect your things and leave." he snorted almost immediately. "I don't have time to tolerate someone who doesn't understand the rules of fundamental hospitality."

"Woah woah," Alfred refuted, raising his hands as if he were asked by the local police to inspect him. "Sorry, man. I'm just…" Alfred pointed on the top of his own head as he looked at Arthur. "You don't see that every day."

"And I've never seen anyone is just as rude until today either. So we're even."

Alfred then seemed to relax, chuckling as he then tried to adjust himself to stand. "Touché. But thank you, Arthur. For real, man. I thought I was gonna die for sure. I need to get back to my brother Mattie before the Barren gets worse."

"You still haven't quite answered me on that note," Arthur interrupted. "What in the world is a barren?"

"Barren? You know! Like the season?"

"You mean autumn?"

Alfred frowned. "What the hell is an autumn?"

And with this, Arthur's tail swayed as his hand went to hold his head with a frustrated look. "...you call the autumn time Barren. Now that's something I've never heard before."

Alfred frowned. "Hey, I'm not the one who makes up the names of the three seasons."

"Three, you say?" Arthur took his chance to then also make a laugh of his own. Alfred couldn't have looked more confused than ever.

"What? What's so funny about that?"

"Three seasons?" Arthur giggled. "Tell me, what are the names? Barren…?"

"The hot season is Cloudless and the warm season is Fruitful," Alfred recited. Arthur then seemed to finally feel his laughter subside as he then went to rub his eyes from the tears.

"I'm supposing those are supposed to represent Spring and Summer, am I correct?"

"I'm still not following your weird terminology, Artie."

The creature snorted. "That's horrific nickname. And I mean, what do you call the season that involves all of the snow? The cold ice falling from the sky? The one where I just saved you from before you become a human snowman?" Arthur twirled his finger with amusement, almost as if he were expecting an answer.

Alfred only blinked back at him.

"...ice falling from the…?"

Arthur had his turn to frown. "...you can't be serious."

"I am. What are you even talking about? That's not a season! Since when has ice ever fallen from the sky?" Alfred asked seriously. "The coldest weather we ever get in a year is in Barren, and no one even likes the Barren!"

Alfred wanted to continue to press on asking before he saw Arthur eventually taking a rest on the bedside next to him, sighing. His tail brushed the surface of the bed, and Alfred felt the tuft brushing against his foot in under the blanket.

"... So they erased me,"

"...you're not making any sense at all."

Arthur turned to look at Alfred.

"...do you want to know what a 'Winter' is?"

"... and then you're supposed to make it into a ball. Like this."

Alfred furrowed his brows, picking up a clump of the white 'snow' with a pair of gloves that he had snagged from inside the tree. It was supposed to help with the coldness.

Alfred began to form it into a ball like Arthur demonstrated, and he was elated seeing how solid it felt.

"... it's like a real baseball!" He declared, looking at Arthur proudly. Without any other warning, Alfred immediately grinned and cried out the word "Catch!" as he gave an underserved throw. Arthur barely had enough time to turn his head before the snowball landed right square on his forehead. Arthur shook his head to clear the snow off with an annoyed huff.

"Why the bloody hell did you do that?"

"S-Sorry!" Alfred raised his hands up in defense. "I didn't think it was gonna break like-"

Alfred felt his glasses knocked off his face into the crunching snow. Arthur winced.

"... well. I didn't mean to come off that hard,"

"Nah. You didn't. But it means war!"

"... pardon?"

Alfred scooped up his glasses and instantly went to start forming his counter-attack. Arthur widened his eyes, and instantly went to start hobbling away from him with hooves pressing into the ground making soft circles; it was hard to escape in ankle high snow. Arthur's scarf trailed behind him off his neck (the only article of clothing he had), and Alfred wasted no time to try and follow up his throw. He was laughing. And before long, Arthur himself was also starting to crack a smile under his strict demeanor, becoming comfortable despite the persisting battle.

In the end, the two were finally breathless, backs laid right on the forest floor amid the massacre of the once flat snow mounds.

"... wow," Alfred mentioned after a while of giggling. "And... this is a normal thing. Every year."

"Yeah. It is." Arthur replied softly. "I almost forgot how much fun it really is."

"Winter? Why wouldn't it be fun?"

The satyr sighed. "... I'm the Seasonal divine for Winter. I see this all the time.".
"What? How…" Alfred frowned. "What happened to you...?"
Arthur took his time with the next reply
"They told me... I caused too many bad ends. I caused calamities. Like what I've done to you, Alfred. Winter isn't quite the season that anyone would wait for, other than perhaps to wait for death."

"That's not true!" Alfred immediately argued. "Winter... it has good moments as well. Good times such as even spending time with someone like you. You're great, Arthur."
"Great?"
"Yeah! If I wanted, I'd stay here with you if those other jerk season gods decided to abandon you like that."
Arthur, taking a moment to sigh, reached out to grab his hand right next to him.
"... thank you, Alfred. That means... a lot."
"If I could even say it to you too," Alfred said to him with a grin. "I didn't expect a Seasonal God to be a fuzzy goat." Alfred kissed the back of Arthur's hand. A flirting move that never got old. "Kinda cute."
"I beg your pardon?!"

Posted September 25, 2017