A/N: In which I write something that's not about Heket and The Brood for a change.
Warnings: Mild gore
Complications
"I grow tired of you, little Lamb…"
The Lamb gripped the handle of their axe tightly in their hands. Their heart drummed against their ribcage and the blood roared in their ears.
They were finally here. They had finally chased him down to the seat of his power. To his temple. No more gloating. No more running. It was finally time to finish this.
"Time to put an end to this FRIVOLOUS MASQUERADE!" They couldn't agree more.
At an unspoken command, his followers pulled out their ritual daggers and drove them into their hearts. Fervour streamed from their bodies and into his as he rose into the air. And with a sound like the cracking and creaking of wood, Leshy's body twisted and contorted as he transformed, into a towering worm made of wood and leaves, with a gaping maw filled with teeth as long as they were tall.
Leshy roared, sending globs of thick black ichor in all directions and the Lamb grit their teeth, their lips drawing back in a snarl. They didn't care how big he got, they were going to bring him down.
Leshy moved first, diving at the Lamb with his maw opened wide to swallow them whole, but they dodged aside, and so the two of them began the age old dance of death.
The Lamb swung their axe. That was for the mother. They swung again. That was for their father. Their brothers, their sisters, their cousins, their aunts and uncles, their grandmothers and grandfathers, their friends, their friends' families and all the other villagers too. For every life that had been ripped away from them, they painted the stone floor of Leshy's temple with his blood.
But the final blow? The blow that sent Leshy toppling to the ground like an ancient tree yielding to a humble woodcutter's axe? That was for them.
They panted from the exertion of the battle before finally expelling a relieved sigh. One down. Three to go. They gripped the handle of their axe in both hands, with the head facing down and knelt before the Bishop's corpse, their head bowed in a silent prayer. With his death they hoped that those who had gone before were now one step closer to peace.
But there was one more thing left to do before they could return to their new home. They approached Leshy's body, dismissing the axe with a wave of their hand. Something within was calling to the Red Crown, and the crown's eye began to glow brighter the closer they got. When the body shuddered, the Lamb tensed in preparation for another fight, instead Leshy's corpse was rent in two, exposing his curiously still beating heart.
They stepped in blood and over chunks of flesh to grip the heart in both hands, and pulled. It did not come free easily; They had to dig in their heels and pull with all their might before the veins and arteries still attached were severed with a wet snap, and they went flying back.
They hopped to their feet and raised it in triumph. Success! They lowered the heart to watch the chain Leshy had been guarding shatter into chunks of metal that rained to the ground all around them and smiled; Their Master would be pleased. Now to return to their cult. Just as they were about to tuck the heart away inside their fleece, something stopped them.
"Give… it… back…" The Lamb went wide eyed and stared down at the thing crawling toward them. "Give… it… back…" It was a creature covered in moss and leaves, with a single pair of eyes and spindly little twigs poking out of the sides of its head. It looked like… They squinted at the being in disbelief… Leshy…?
They looked to Leshy's corpse. As soon as the heart had been pulled free, the body had decomposed, leaving behind a shrivelled husk, a pool of blood and a pile of withered leaves. A trail of blood leading to the creature and originating from the husk was proof that yes, this was indeed Leshy.
They shoved the heart away inside their fleece and swiftly summoned their axe, holding it above their head as they prepared to bring it down hard, their teeth baring in a snarl. They didn't know how he'd survived, but they didn't care. They would rectify this immediately…
"Give… it… back…" As Leshy crawled on the ground toward them like the worm he was, they tightened their grip on their axe, and their arm tensed…
But they couldn't do it.
Facing him in battle as a Bishop at full power was one thing, but this… Even knowing who it was, even though this was one of the monsters that had killed their family and their people, here, now, stripped of all of his power, and as a harmless husk of his former glory, he looked so weak and pathetic, that it just didn't feel right; Striking down the weak and helpless just wasn't the kind of person they were, no matter who they were.
They heaved a sigh and dismissed the axe, then spun on their heel and stalked away. Whatever happened to Leshy now wasn't their problem.
They got about half way before their footsteps slowed and they looked back. Would his followers even recognise him? They could hardly believe it was Leshy themselves and they had more or less witnessed him crawl out of his own remains with their own eyes. They shook their head vigorously. What did they care?! It wasn't their problem! Again they stalked off.
But again their footsteps slowed and they looked back. He so looked utterly pitiful that their instincts were screaming at them to protect him. But it's Leshy, they rendered weak and defenceless that is, their desire to protect the helpless argued back. They kicked a rock and let out a shrill cry of frustration and stalked back. Why couldn't he have just stayed dead?!
When they tried to help him to his feet, he slapped their hands away and hissed. "Don't touch me… wretched creature! I need not your help… nor your pity!"
They clenched their fists and grit their teeth. "Fine!" They spat. "Stay here and rot then." Once again they only got halfway before their footsteps slowed and they looked back. Again, he looked so utterly pathetic crawling on the floor like a newborn lamb, that they just couldn't leave him. They expelled a growl of frustration before walking back.
But what exactly did they intend to do with him? Were they going to take him back to their cult? Then what? How would he even fit in? The alternative was taking him back to his followers, but… they frowned. Leshy no longer had his crown, in fact they were vaguely certain that the beating heart they'd stashed away inside their fleece was said crown, and that if he were to consume the heart, he would be restored to his full power. Which meant that, theoretically, he was now powerless and therefore harmless. But… what if… there was another way for him to get it back, or… a way for him to remake it somehow, with a ritual like the one he had used to transform?
No, they decided. It seemed like taking him back to their cult where they could keep an eye on him was the best thing for them to do, especially since killing him was – unfortunately – out of the question. What they were going to do with him once they got there, well… they would take this one step at time. And the first step was getting him home. They pulled out the heart and held it just out of his reach.
Leshy squinted before his eyes widened and he reached for it. "Give it back…" The Lamb took a step back and Leshy followed."It's mine… Give it back…" And so it went progress was so slow that they were still in Darkwood when evening began to roll in, forcing the Lamb to stop and make camp. It seemed like Leshy was tired anyway, because his crawling had slowed even further.
"Stay here," they said, even though they were pretty sure that he wasn't going anywhere. "I'm going to find you some food."
"Food?" Leshy scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous… a god has no concept of-" His stomach loudly voiced its disagreement and he clutched it with a whine.
The Lamb rolled their eyes. "Right, sure. I'll be right back."
They managed to capture some birds and squirrels – five in all – and brought them back to the camp. Leshy was staring into the campfire as if transfixed when they returned, and simply watched as the Lamb gutted and skinned or plucked the morsels of meat before skewering them on a spit and roasting them over the fire.
"Where are you taking me?" He eventually spoke up.
"Back to my cult."
"Of course you are," he grouched. "As if reducing me to this lesser form wasn't insult enough… What do you intend to do with me once we get there?"
"I'll figure something out."
"You don't know?"
They grit their teeth. "I didn't exactly plan on having you stick around… How did you survive?"
Leshy contemplated his reply. "I was… thrown… from my body, and into this."
The Lamb frowned at that. Thrown by what? His crown? Did the crowns save their bearers from death by ejecting their souls into a miniature form until they could return to power? That would complicate things if true. "What like… as some kind of defence mechanism or something?" They asked.
"Well… this is the first time something like this has happened, so… I suppose it must be."
"And if you ate the heart or whatever, you would get your powers back? You'd become a Bishop again?"
"Give it back, and you can find that out."
They scoffed. "No thanks, I'd prefer that to remain a mystery in that case."
Leshy huffed in reply. "Well, while we're on that subject… and just to dispel any illusions to the contrary… the heart is the only reason I'm here… I have no intention of co-operating with… whatever future plans you eventually end up concocting for me."
They gave him a droll look. "From you, Leshy? That's to be expected."
Leshy's leaves bristled. "That's Lord Leshy to you, heretic."
"Not anymore."
"Not for now," he corrected. "But mark my words… I will reclaim what's mine."
"You'll have to fight me for it, and right now you can't even stand." He scowled at them for that but turned away, saying nothing.
They checked the meat and deemed it ready. "Here," they said, handing one to Leshy for him to take. He squinted at it before turning his metaphorical nose up at the proffered meal despite his hunger, and they rolled their eyes and dropped it on the ground in front of him. "Don't eat it then." The rest of the meat followed until there was a small pile of some very tasty-smelling food sitting before the ex-Bishop. He squeezed his eyes closed in humiliation when his traitorous stomach growled insistently, demanding him to eat. The Lamb watched as he reached for the first morsel and ate it though with the greatest reluctance, as if the Lamb was forcing him to eat it with a blade to his throat and they shook their head and rolled their eyes; So dramatic.
The solitude of their camp was disrupted by the sudden arrival of a group of travellers, seeming to materialise from the darkness itself. "Ho there, friends. Mind if we-YOU!" The Lamb jumped to their feet. Cultists! In their camp! They summoned their sword and prepared for battle, as the group drew their weapons. "You will PAY for what you did to our Lord Leshy, heretic!" That was just their luck; Followers still loyal to Leshy even in his death.
Leshy raised his hands. "My followers, rejoice! For your Lord Leshy yet lives!"
They shared looks of confusion. "… What?"
"It is true! I am he!"
"Blasphemy! Lord Leshy was a mighty Bishop of the Old Faith. He fought bravely against this heretic," he pointed to the Lamb with his sword, "and was martyred for his actions. How dare you defile his name with your lies!"
"But I am-!"
"Then where is your crown?"
"It was stolen," he pointed, "by the Lamb!" He looked to them in desperation. "Tell them, Lamb! Tell them!"
"It's true," they said. "This is Leshy, formerly known as the Bishop of Chaos." They felt the ex-Bishop glare daggers into their back for those words.
"As if we would believe the words of a heretic like you!" They sighed, but they had expected as much.
"You worthless wretches," Leshy raged, "I am Leshy, Bishop of Chaos, and your Lord and ruler of Darkwood!"
"Enough!" The cultist pointed his sword at them. "Kill them both!" The group surged forward as one brandishing their weapons. The Lamb made short work of their opponents, but turned at a cry coming from behind.
"No you fool, it's me! It's me!" Leshy was cowering helplessly before the group's leader, his expression a mixture of outrage that a follower of his would dare to raise a weapon against him, as well as disbelief that this was even happening, and horror that he could do nothing to stop it. They could've let the follower kill him, it would've solved all of their problems. But instead their body moved of its own accord and they struck him down. When the follower's body hit the ground, they looked over the carnage with their fists clenched. What were they doing? Why were they defending him? They expelled their frustration with a sigh and unclenched their fists before turning back to Leshy. Shaken by his – very real this time – near death experience, at the hands of one of his own followers no less, and how utterly powerless he had been to defend himself, he was staring into another plane of existence. "Hey… um… are you… okay?" They frowned inwardly. Why were they asking that? They didn't care.
Leshy snapped back to reality. "You…" His expression became an offended scowl. "Think me not oblivious to your machinations, little Lamb."
They blinked in confusion. "My what now?"
"You treat me with kindness, hoping that I will be swayed from the Old Faith, swayed to your cult, swayed to your side. But I see through you! You do not fool me!"
They could not look more uncomprehending if they tried. "… Huh?"
"You think this will endear me to you?" They frowned. "You think I will forgive you for what you have done to me?" His eyes watered. "For what you have reduced me to?"
Their mouth fell open in disbelief. "Endearance?" They repeated. "Forgiveness?" They repeated with a snarl. "I HATE YOU!" They screamed so suddenly and so loudly that Leshy flinched back. "You and the other Bishops killed everyone I've ever known! I HATE YOU ALL!"
He blinked and his expression became one of absolute confusion. "Then… then why did you spare me? Why did you save me?"
"Because!" The Lamb huffed a sigh. "Because. You looked so weak and pathetic that… it just didn't feel right. And besides, without your crown, without your power, well… you can't hurt anyone any more. And I guess," they grit their teeth as they tried to convince themselves, "that's a fitting enough punishment…"
"Pathetic…?" He repeated. "Pathetic…?" He clenched trembling fists. "I, am not, pathetic…" He stood on shaking legs. "I, am not, weak…" Tears began to build in his eyes. "I am just, as strong, as my siblings… I am just, as worthy, of respect…" The building tears began to stream down his face, and his voice became thick with suppressed sobs. "Don't you DARE… look down on ME…" The strength left his body and he collapsed into blubbers of anger and anguish. The Lamb stared at him wide eyed, before their expression settled into a glare and angry tears began rolling down their face as well. They hated this. They hated everything about this. They wished this wasn't happening. They wished he had just stayed dead. Then everything would've been simple.
But things weren't simple, because Leshy wasn't dead, and this was really happening. And so that night, they were two enemies joined in tears and anguish, but for entirely different reasons. Leshy cried himself into sleep and the Lamb into exhaustion.
Eventually they closed their eyes and found themselves standing before the One Who Waits. "You have done well, my vessel," he praised. "The first chain lies broken, and only three remain. But what of Leshy? You have not sent him to me as I commanded."
"Yeah that's because he didn't actually die. I think the crowns have some kind of defence mechanism for when their bearers' bodies are destroyed. Their souls are ejected into this miniature form that doesn't have a crown or any of their powers."
"So strike them down; Such a form would pose no challenge to you after all."
The Lamb looked away. "But that's just it; I can't…"
"I do not understand."
"Because they're no longer a threat to me, killing them doesn't feel right."
"Even after everything they've done? Even after everything they took from you-?"
"I KNOW! I know what they did! I don't forgive them for any of it! I hate that I can't just put an end to their miserable lives!I wish I could!" They hugged themselves and squeezed their eyes closed as they hung their head. "But I can't… I just can't…"
"I see," he replied coldly. "How disappointing."
They glared at him. "Well maybe when you get your freedom you can do it yourself. I won't stop you."
"It seems that I will have to."
"We made a deal; My life for your freedom. So long as that's what you get, then I'll have fulfilled my end of the bargain." They gulped, quailing under the sudden the intensity of his gaze.
Then he chuckled. "Very well, my vessel. Then I shall have the pleasure of taking my revenge myself. I will look forward to it."
When they opened their eyes again it was early morning of the next day. They glanced at Leshy. He was still asleep. He was also going to need breakfast when he woke up, so they stood, stretched and departed to scrounge him up some food.
He was awake and sitting up by the time they returned with an armful of berries. "Here," they said, holding out some of the berries for him to take. "I found you breakfast."
He squinted before his brow furrowed in a glare and he turned his head away. "I do not… need… your help," he hissed.
They threw the berries at him in frustration and they smacked him in the face causing him to flinch. "Starve then!" They dumped the rest in a pile in front of him before sitting down in a huff, folding their arms aggressively across their chest. Leshy stared at the berries for a good long moment before reluctantly eating them one by one in silence. When he had finished the Lamb stood. "Let's go."
"I am not going anywhere with you."
"What's that?" They pulled out the heart. "You don't want this any more?"
Leshy squinted before his eyes widened and he clenched his fists. "… Give it back…"
They waved it enticingly. "Then come and get it." Leshy lurched to his feet and staggered after them.
The sun rolled across the sky into midday as they walked. Belatedly the Lamb realised that Leshy was no longer following behind them and turned to investigate. He was squinting at something off to their right, so hard that his eyes were almost closed. They followed his gaze, and their expression hardened. They were passing one of the statues placed around his domain to collect his followers' devotion, a statue of Bishop Leshy. "Lamb?" He asked as they joined him. "Is that… what I think it is?"
"One of your statues, yeah."
He went wide-eyed, and approached the statue hesitantly, gazing up at it's visage, at his once glorious appearance – even though he couldn't see it all that well – and placed a hand on the statue's base, looking up at it with eyes shining with unshed tears. They gave him a moment, but eventually they took his other hand and pulled him away. "Come on," they said. "It's not far now."
Leshy snatched the hand away and turned a glare on the Lamb. His expression became sullen when they held out the heart, and beckoned him onwards. "How do you suppose your followers will react when you bring me into your cult, little Lamb?"
"Well they're not going to know who you are at first, until I tell them." Leshy scowled in reluctant admission of the fact. "But afterwards, well… I guess we'll see."
"I suppose we shall…" He cast one look back at the statue – at his old life – before reluctantly following after the Lamb, vowing that one day it would be his again.
A/N: So this was kind of written as an experimental character study for Leshy and the Lamb, so… I don't actually have any current plans to continue this, although that's not to say this won't change in the future.