Giler, the goddess of the moon and travel, and patron goddess of scholars, was a figure of icy grace. She moved like the night itself—quiet, calm, and endlessly distant. Her presence was like a soft, cold wind under the stars, always gentle but never warm. With skin as pale as moonlight and crystal-clear eyes that seemed to hold the vastness of the cosmos, Giler was often described as emotionless, her expression rarely betraying what lay beneath. She was the keeper of wisdom, the silent observer of the heavens, and the one who guided lost souls in the darkness.
Despite her cold demeanor, Giler loved deeply—especially her husband, Rudra, the god of storms and destruction. In his arms, she found comfort; in his wild passion, she found purpose. Rudra, however, was as different from Giler as the sun was from the moon. He was untamed, fierce, and driven by raw emotions that he never bothered to hide. He was a god of chaos, his nature unpredictable and feral, especially when it came to Giler. His love for her was consuming, obsessive—a powerful storm that raged endlessly within him.
The celestial palace where Rudra and Giler lived was a testament to their contrasting natures. The towering structure was built of cold marble that gleamed like silver under the moonlight, adorned with delicate carvings of stars and swirling clouds. It was a beautiful, serene place that contrasted sharply with the tempestuous energy Rudra brought into every room he entered.
Tonight, the moon hung high and full in the sky, casting a soft, ethereal glow over the palace gardens. Giler stood by a large balcony, her long hair flowing behind her like a river of silver. She watched the night unfold with a detached calm, her crystal eyes reflecting the light of the moon. She was alone, and that was just how she liked it—still, silent, lost in her own thoughts.
But solitude was a luxury Rudra rarely allowed her to indulge in for long.
The faint sound of heavy footsteps reached her ears, and Giler didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The air around her crackled with the familiar energy of a storm brewing, the first sign of Rudra's approach. His presence was always intense, impossible to ignore, and today was no different. He entered the garden with his usual force, his wild hair and sharp eyes making him look every bit the untamed god of storms he was known to be.
"Giler," Rudra's voice rang out, deep and filled with a rough affection that always tugged at something inside her.
Giler slowly turned to face him, her expression calm and unchanging. "Rudra," she greeted softly, her voice cool and melodic, like the distant chime of bells in the wind.
Rudra's eyes blazed as he took her in, the pale glow of the moon only making her more mesmerizing in his eyes. She was cold, distant, and seemingly emotionless, but to Rudra, she was perfection. Every quiet look, every gentle movement only served to fuel his obsession. He needed her—needed to see her, to touch her, to be near her always. It was an all-consuming need that he couldn't, wouldn't, contain.
"I've been looking for you," Rudra said, his tone a mixture of irritation and longing. He closed the distance between them in a few quick strides, his hands finding their way to her waist. "You disappeared again."
Giler's eyes, clear as crystal, met his without flinching. "I was just watching the sky," she replied, her voice even, lacking any trace of emotion. "It's a beautiful night."
Rudra's grip tightened, his fingers pressing into her skin as if he needed to remind himself that she was real. "I don't like it when you're out here alone," he growled, his possessiveness laid bare. "You're mine, Giler. You should be where I can see you."
Giler didn't flinch at his words. She was used to Rudra's intensity, his feral need to keep her close. His possessiveness was like a storm—wild, unpredictable, but always surrounding her in a strange, comforting way. "I'm not going anywhere," she said simply, her tone as calm as the night around them. "I'm always with you."
But her cold, composed demeanor only seemed to drive Rudra further into his obsession. To him, she was an enigma, a beautiful moon that remained just out of reach. No matter how close he got, he always felt the distance between them, the cool barrier of her unchanging expression. It was maddening, intoxicating. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against hers as he stared into her crystal eyes, desperate to see some flicker of emotion, some hint that she felt the same fire that burned within him.
"You don't understand," Rudra murmured, his voice a low rumble. "I can't stand it. When you're quiet, when you're cold... it drives me insane. I need you, Giler. I need you more than anything."
Giler's gaze softened, just the faintest bit, as she reached up and placed a gentle hand on his cheek. "I'm not cold," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just don't show it the way you do."
Rudra's breath hitched, his heart pounding at the softness of her touch. It was moments like these, fleeting and rare, that kept him tethered. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her flush against him, his body trembling with the force of his emotions. "I don't care," he rasped, his voice rough with desperation. "I'll take whatever you give me. Just... don't push me away."
Giler remained still in his embrace, her expression serene. She knew Rudra's love was feral, that his need for her bordered on madness, but she never shied away from it. In her own quiet way, she loved him just as fiercely. She was the moon to his storm, a constant presence that guided him even in his darkest moments. Her calm was his anchor, and her gentle touch was the only thing that could soothe his restless soul.
"You're not alone, Rudra," Giler said softly, her crystal eyes meeting his with a rare, gentle warmth. "You never have to be alone."
Rudra buried his face in the crook of her neck, his hold on her tightening as if he were afraid she might disappear at any moment. His love for her was wild, raw, and uncontained, a storm that he had no desire to tame. He pressed kisses along her neck, each touch filled with an unspoken plea for her to stay, to always be his.
"I won't let anyone take you from me," Rudra vowed, his voice fierce and unyielding. "Not the gods, not the stars—no one."
Giler closed her eyes, her fingers threading through his hair as she held him close. She was the goddess of the moon, the guide of travelers and the keeper of scholars, but to Rudra, she was so much more. She was his peace, his obsession, his everything. And despite her calm, cold demeanor, her love for him ran deep, hidden beneath the surface like the currents of a quiet, dark sea.
As they stood together under the watchful gaze of the moon, the storm of Rudra's emotions clashed with the gentle serenity of Giler's presence. It was an unspoken dance, a balance of chaos and calm that only they could understand. Giler, with her emotionless facade, was the steady force that kept Rudra's ferocity in check, while Rudra's passion breathed life into her quiet world.
They were a paradox—a storm and a moon, wild and serene, forever bound by a love that defied explanation. And as long as Rudra had Giler by his side, he knew that he would never stop loving her with the kind of fervor that could shake the heavens.
In the cold, silver light of the moon, Rudra held his goddess close, his heart full of the fierce, unending devotion that only she could inspire. Giler's expression remained calm, her eyes reflecting the stars above, but there was a softness in her gaze as she looked at her husband—a silent promise that she would always be there, a constant light in his stormy world.
And as the night wore on, the god of storms and the goddess of the moon found solace in each other's arms, their love a quiet, unbreakable force that shone brighter than any star.
