Shepherd (God!Knives x GN!Reader)

Story 2

The cycle is nearly complete again. The summer heat caressed your cheeks, and the trees took on a yellow hue. This body had not felt the heat of midsummer or seen the different colors of nature. Despite living in the south, the creeping winter lasting 50 years still left its mark. But you remember from all your past lives the changing seasons that seemed to last forever. You don't miss the sunny days or the shades of spring. You welcome the falling leaves and the chilly northern winds, for they are brought on by something more precious.

The song of your heart has gotten louder and louder as the weeks have passed, and the familiar restlessness of your ancient soul has been tugging you towards the dark forests surrounding your home. But you know there is no need to go; you are found, and the melody echoing from your chest will always guide him back to you without fault.

You look up from your workbench as the silent whine of ice forming touches your ears. He is here. The god of winter and death has arrived, greeting you with breathtaking bouquets of frosted flowers covering your windows. They glimmer in the last rays of daylight as you set aside your book and rise to meet him.

You open your front door into the frigid evening air. It is snowing again, just like last time, and once again, you see him approaching from the edge of the forest. This time he isn't frozen over, his beautiful feathery wings trailing behind him with soft rustling. His ice cold eyes are on you, but tonight they don't nail you to your spot with terror. In them, you recognize the hundreds of lifetimes you've lived, your love reaching back to times so old that even the stories from it have died.

"I've been waiting for you, Beloved," you say as you step off your doorstep onto the freezing pathway. The frost brought on by his presence melts under your bare feet, and it gets colder with every step you take towards him.

"I've been yearning for you, my love," he replies, his steely gaze looking through this mortal body of yours and only seeing the soul he fell in love with millennia ago. "I patiently waited for the day to lay my eyes on you once again."

"Come now; I have something of yours." You reach out your hand with a smile to invite him to take it. He closes the distance and traces his digits along the lines of your open palm. His cold touch chills the blood in your veins, but just for a moment. His fingers find the spaces between yours, intertwining effortlessly as if they were always meant to be there. With that, the markings covering his body light up with a dim blue light. The sight only lasts for a few seconds before the patterns disappear again.

"As always, I thank you, sweet Shepherd, for keeping it safe." His voice is quiet and soothing, painting images of snow covered meadows and peaceful forests in your mind. He presses your hand to the middle of his chest, where you feel his heart awakening. The beat hastens as he holds your gaze. "You consume me. I dream of you every hour of every day."

His fingers let go of yours to trace along your bare forearms. You don't even notice the cold anymore as his touch leaves burning trails in its wake. You lean in closer, unable to resist the pull of his soul.

"For tonight, I am not a mere dream. I am yours to hold, and we have a lot of time to make up for, darling." You reach out your free hand to touch his sharp jaw line and feel the warmth emanating from his skin. The god bows his head to you as his lips find yours. It fills you with euphoria, reaching into the farthest corners of your being. Your heart beats like a wardrum, echoing the sounds of times past. His arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against him as he leans you back. His kiss acting as a wordless prayer.

The snowflakes gently falling from the heavens land on your face like delicate touches, and the feeling of them melting on your skin lingers for long after they are gone. His stiff hands clutch tightly at your waist and lift you up from the ground. Your palms find balance on his broad shoulders. His sharp gaze looks up into your dumbfounded face as he carries you back to your cottage. A familiar feathery tendril slinks out from between his mass of wings and gently brushes against your cheek, drying up the wetness left there by the thawing snow. You lift one arm from his body to touch the tendril and let it slip through your fingers.