Romulus put an arm around his daughter's shoulders, absolutely confused by her behavior. "Tell me, Reama, what's wrong? Does he not love you?"
"That's not it at all!" she wailed, burying her face in her hands. "He loves me, and he wants to marry me!"
"What's the matter then?" Romulus paused as something occurred to him. "Do you not love him?"
"No! I love him so much!" She accepted the handkerchief Romulus gave her and blew her nose noisily. "But father, we are immortal. We can't get married because I will never change and he will grow old and d-... DIE!" She started sobbing afresh and she flung herself into his arms.
Letting her cry it all out, Romulus let his gaze wander over the forest they were standing in as he thought hard about her predicament. His own wife had died of a sickness shortly after giving birth to his child. She'd been so young, young enough that he hadn't even gotten around to wondering about a future where she aged and he stayed the same. He didn't even know where to begin, honestly. His own longevity, and his daughter's, came from the fact that he had been suckled and raised by a goddess. To extend the natural lifespan of a normal human would be… He sighed as he admitted to himself that it would be practically impossible.
But… If it was impossible to extend his lifespan… perhaps it was possible to shorten hers…
No! Romulus hugged his only child closer. There was no way he'd give up his little goddess!
"I may know of a way to help," a voice from the trees rumbled. Romulus and his daughter looked up in surprise as a giant wolf pushed her way past two saplings.
"Grandmother!" With another cry the girl leapt onto the wolf and burrowed her head into the soft ruff around her neck.
Romulus raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean, mother?" he asked, getting right to the point.
The Wolf Goddess looked at him and blinked, her golden eyes shining. "I mean what I said, I may know a way to solve Reama's problem so she can be with her mate."
Reama blushed red. "Oh grandmother, he isn't my mate."
A growl, one Romulus easily recognized as her own version of laughter, escaped the goddess' throat. "He might as well be. You and he will not be worrying about one outliving the other… if my plan works."
Reama looked at her wide-eyed and expectant. "How?" Romulus eyed his adopted mother warily. If she suggested that Reama gave up her immortality she would do it, he knew she would. He'd already lost his birth parents, his adopted sister and his wife. Losing Reama would kill his soul.
"You must bind your fate with his," the Wolf Goddess answered. She paused, allowing it to sink in. "He would live as long as you did, but you would be more susceptible to mortal griefs like sickness or injury. And if either of you were murdered the other would die, even if you were a hundred leagues away when it happened. Do you understand, child?"
Reama's eyes were glazed over, her mouth parting slightly as she became lost in thought.
She flinched when her father's voice broke out, sharp and angry. "Binding fate? How would that even work? How long have you known about this?!" he demanded. Reama quivered as she realized that not once did he break eye contact with the Wolf Goddess. That alone was a weighty challenge.
The Wolf Goddess lurched forward a few steps, unwittingly dragging Reama with her. Ears laid completely flat against her skull, she growled, "I learned of this from Saga, and she only discovered this possibility last half moon. Had I known of this when your mate was ill I would have told you, so do not bare your teeth at me, insolent pup!" Romulus finally looked down, chastened and humble. Reama flinched again when the wolf cocked her head to look at her. "You need not answer right now. Think on this carefully, for once your fate is bound it will stay bound for as long as the universe endures."
Gilbert knew he was in trouble the minute the gang rode around a bend in the road.
They were five in all, everyone one of them looking disreputable with patched clothes, scarred limbs and dingy weapons. The leader had a wicked looking scar that made a jagged path down one cheek, creating the illusion he had a horribly lopsided grin. The men all pulled up and appraised Gilbert.
"Well, well, wot 'ave we 'ere?" the leader said, pausing to spit on the road.
"Looks like a twig, Chief!" one man called out. They all laughed.
Gilbert blushed with embarrassment. At fifteen he had shot up like a beanpole in the last year. Unfortunately he was incredibly gangly from this sudden growth spurt. He had a man's height, but not the build to accompany it. Some of his friends liked to joke that he looked like a walking skeleton, what with his unusual hair and eyes adding an unfavorable pale complexion to the mix. His baggy dark shirt and pants only accentuated his pallor.
The "chief" looked at him thoughtfully. "Per'aps this twig 'as sum gold or silvuh on 'im. Wot do ya think, lads?"
Gilbert gripped his walking staff with both hands and widened his stance. He had naught but a few copper coins, but that didn't mean he would give them up without a fight. The chief noticed and laughed. "Lookee 'ere. The stick thinks 'e can fight!" This sent the group into another fit of laughter.
Looking around, Gilbert realized his chances of winning a confrontation were slim. All of the men looked to be much stronger, not to mention that they had actual weapons. The road they were on passed through a thick forest and there weren't many other travelers at this time of the year; the possibility of aid wasn't good. He could run into the forest and maybe lose them… he could also get caught even quicker or lost with no hope of finding the road again. Some said that this forest, so old that the oldest elders couldn't think of a time when it hadn't been here, was enchanted and protected by a giant pack of wolves. If he'd learnt anything from aunt Lovina, it was to never disregard myths and legends.
Aunt Lovi… Aunt Lovi would have known what to do…
He snapped back to attention when the ruffians all dismounted. Several were unsheathing swords or knives. This wasn't good at all.
"Listen, twig, we can be friends. Jus' 'and over any valuables you 'ave and you can be on your way back to mammy," the leader coaxed and he inched forward. More chuckles from his gang. Impulsively, Gilbert lashed out with his staff, aiming for the man's greasy head. With no apparent effort the chief swung his sword in an arch, cutting of the top end of the staff. One of the gang members had flanked him and used the opportunity to jab the butt of his spear just below Gilbert's ribs. The boy gasped in pain and dropped his staff as all the air was forced out of his lungs. While he was struggling to breathe the man got behind him and swiftly slapped the spear shaft across the back of his knees, making him drop like a stone.
"Nice one, Skully," a third man with an eyepatch praised as he grabbed Gilbert's arms and forced them behind his back. Gilbert yelped in pain as he was dragged up by his hair onto his knees.
He glared at the men crowded around him, angry and embarrassed to have been taken down so quickly. The chief grinned maliciously and slapped him hard across the cheek. "Looks like we'll be enemies then. Tis a shame, I don't make a habit of leavin' enemies alive. Even if they are puny nothin's like you." Slowly he pulled a long dagger out of his belt. "Wot'll it be lads, shall I slit 'is throat or stab 'is gut?" he asked loudly.
Gilbert struggled violently against the man holding him but to no avail. He simply wasn't strong enough. "You bastards! You murdering, thieving bastards!" he yelled, his voice tainted with fear.
Skully looked offended. "Oi, my parents are married!"
"Shaddup, Skully," the chief growled. He cast one look behind him before his meaty hand tilted Gilbert's head upwards none too gently, exposing his neck. Gilbert squeezed his eyes together tightly, a single tears squeezing out. He didn't want to die!
Five seconds… ten… The killing cut never came.
"Chief, wot's the matter?"
Gilbert opened one eye cautiously. All the men were staring worriedly at their captain, who was staring beyond them towards the direction Gilbert had come from. His scarred face slowly twisted into a mask of horror. His men looked down the road as well, obviously confused.
"Wot is it?"
"I don't see anything!"
A man with an eyepatch looked around nervously. "Ain't these 'ere woods s'posed t'be 'aunted?" he asked.
"Don't be stupid!"
Without saying a word the chief let the dagger drop from his shaking hand. He staggered backward a few steps before turning and running down the path as if banshees were at his tail.
"Chief!" Skully yelled.
Gilbert found himself being thrown to the ground as the gang ran after their leader. He watched in amazement as they grabbed their horses and just left him there. Cautiously, painfully, he once again got to his knees. His cheek hurt from being slapped and his arms were sore but other than that… he was okay. It was unbelieveable.
When the last man had ridden around the bend he decided to risk looking over his shoulder. Standing on the path a mere ten feet away was a man who looked to be in his late twenties. He was tall and strong, his brown cloak pushed back to reveal simple clothing beneath. His curly brown hair framed a handsome face. Gilbert had never seen this person before in his life, but something about his golden-brown eyes seemed familiar.
"Are you alright?" the stranger asked, his voice tinged with an unknown accent.
"Y-yes," Gilbert stuttered, scrambling to his feet. "What… do you know what happened?" he asked awkwardly.
The man grinned in a wolfish manner. "It seemed to me as if the brute saw something no one else could. Something he wishes he'd never seen." A swishing sound attracted Gilbert to the forest. Turning his head quickly, he caught sight of something huge and brown before it disappeared into the trees. He gulped nervously and eyed the man again.
"Whatever it was, I'm grateful," he finally managed to get out.
The man grinned, this time much more kinder. "I think she knows."
"She?"
"Mmhmm…" Clapping his hands together the man closed the distance between them. "So, you've been touched." He gestured to Gilbert's hair. The boy flushed again. He'd reached the age where he was self conscious about his strange coloration. He fidgeted as the man looked him up and down. "Yes… yes… Well then." With another cheery grinned he made an abrupt right turn and walked boldly into the forest. "Take care!" he called over his shoulder.
Gilbert openly gaped at the eccentric individual as he faded into the trees. What on earth…?
"We are never going there again!" An angry female voice yelled from the direction Gilbert had come from. Gilbert flinched wildly and ran to the side of the road, behind a tree, ready to run after the strange man if any more enemies came. He was so high strung he didn't even register how familiar the voice was until another spoke up.
"It wasn't so bad. Monika is really nice!" This voice was male and very cheerful.
The female snorted. "She's a potato bi-"
"AND we'll have to see her again if you want to visit your brother."
"...Shut up, Toni."
Gilbert knew those voices. He peeked around the tree and gawked at the two people coming up the road hand in hand. Neither seemed to have changed since he last saw them almost ten years ago. Hardly containing himself, he flung himself onto the road. "Aunt Lovi! Uncle Toni!" he yelled.
Lovina and Antonio gaped. Slowly, Lovina leaned forward. "Are...are you really…?"
Gilbert nodded, feeling tears gathering at the corners of his eyes again. "It's me, Gilbert." A bad thought occurred to him. "Don't you remember me?"
Lovina blinked rapidly and quickly rubbed her eyes. Antonio laughed and rushed over to crushingly hug the boy. "Of course we remember you! Look how you've grown!" he added, taking in Gilbert's height. "You're almost a man."
"Gods…" Lovina muttered. She approached him awkwardly, as if not sure about how to greet him.
Gilbert shuffled a bit, squirming out of Antonio's grip. He noticed with some sort of detached amusement that he was now taller than his aunt. "I missed you, Aunt Lovi. A lot." he choked out.
The sorceress looked away for a moment before pulling Gilbert in for a hug of her own.
"...I missed you too."
THE END…. of this particular story.
My plan was to write a story where the readers (that'd be you) would have to connect the dots a little. Accordingly, I tried to write enough to leave clues as to what happened but also left enough out that some things were left to speculation. I'm not sure if it's because I like writing in that particular style, because I'm slightly sadistic and I won't give you all the answers, or because I'm just lazy. Personally, I'm leaning towards the third option.
And so ends Epic F. Awesomesauce's birthday fic. She'd better appreciate it.
I appreciate it a lot bro.
