To Kill a God

Romance

It took Al half an hour and three visits to nearby stores before he realized that this was, in essence, a date.

Violet was charming, laughing at all of his terrible jokes and dragging him about like a puppy on a short leash. While conversing they slipped into one shop or another. First an apothecary that smelled faintly of dried herbs and pastries, then a little stand besides the road which sold flowers to the passing lords and ladies. Al, tempted, had almost bought her the largest bouquet there. But a roll of Violet's eyes had set his heart fluttering, and he suddenly found himself too cowardly to approach the intimidating wall of petals and thorns.

Their next stop was a shop whose front was open to the street, an inclined table covered in strange baubles and trinkets on display taking up some of the sidewalk. The young, feminine orc behind the counter grinned at the couple as they approached, but otherwise said nothing as Violet began pointing and explaining the uses of each trinket. She talked him through some of the local customs, many of which he suspected she made up on the spot.

"Are you serious," he asked lifting up the crystalline ball. He looked at her, noticed the sly little smile she was half-hiding behind a lock of golden hair, then glared. "You're pulling my leg!" For the past minute or two, she had been going on about a strange tradition where bribes-to-be would lock away some of their magical essence into crystal balls and give it to their special-other who would then gaze at the balls on the loneliest nights. This she did while hinting at a few dozen illicit uses to the balls.

Behind the counter, the orc girl was hiding her giggles behind a hand twice as large as Al's own.

Violet pulled away from him and turned to inspect a nearby store front. "Maybe. You know, for a god, you sure are gullible."

Al snorted. "I'm not the god of mischief and trickery. Maybe you should become one of her worshippers. She'd like that,"

Violet grinned as she picked up another bubble from the road-side stand. "Maybe. Maybe I'll try to trick her too."

"Oh, I would pay to see that. No, seriously, name your price. If you can embarrass my sister I'll... I'll give you... Wait, what would a beautiful elven princess want, anyway?"

Violet leaned against the stand and faced him, her arms crossed under her breasts in a most provocative way. "Beautiful elven princess?"

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "How else am I to describe you?"

Violet paused for a moment, her eyes lingering on the meaningless trinket in her hand. "The moon," she said.

Al blinked, his eyes never leaving hers as she stared right up at him. "The moon?" he repeated, turning it into a question.

"You asked, what a beautiful elven princess would want. I want the moon."

He smiled at her, a small, sad smile. His mother had once taught him that the best answer to any provocation was the answer the adversary did not see coming. And so he waited, listening to the rattle of carriages, to the shuffling feet of Violet's guards not ten paces away, to the cries of a hawker at the intersection that they had passed. "Someone from where I come from once said; 'the moon is a friend for the lonesome to talk to.' I can't imagine you being so alone, Violet Hawkeyes." He reached out and laid a hand on her frail, thin shoulder. "The moon would suit you, I think. It's steadfast. Always there. It sees us in the bright of day, and in the dark of night it shines down on us to illumine our paths. It's... it is very like us humans. Sometimes weak, sometimes strong and full of brilliance. Not always useful, but always beautiful."

They were silent for a moment, and from the corner of his eye, Al saw the young orc who had been standing behind the counter blush quite fiercely.

Violet finally spoke, her eyes looking down between their feet. "Is romancing beautiful elven princesses something that comes easily to the god of tactics and stratagems?" she asked.

He laughed a little, trying to dispel the fist closing around his chest and making it hard to breath. He felt warmth climbing up his neck and radiating off his cheeks, as though he was standing before a roaring fire, and not a petite woman. "All's fair in love and war," he said before the thickness in his throat could reach his tongue.

He was saved from further embarrassment by Edwin. The preacher ran up to them, panting and sweating as he came to a stop nearby and put hands on knees to breath. "Looking for you everywhere," he said between breaths. "Member of the Reckoners just stopped at the shop. Came to warn you, Violet. Saw Zips." He swallowed. "Threatened her. She, uh, she let him go."

Al stared at the unfit man, then back from where he had come. He had the distinct impression he had narrowly avoided being on the scene of a disaster. "Let him go?" he asked.

"Naked," the preacher said. "She had him strip down. On the street."

"Did she use any magic?" Violet asked.

Edwin shook his head. "Didn't even remove her hood. Just... grabbed him, and spoke a little, then screamed a lot. He ran off."

Al tried to clear his thoughts. "Yes, but why did he come in the first place?"

"Zips' worshipper. The beastkin girl, Mara. They took her. She's going to be tried tonight."

A/N:

Do you have any idea how hard it was to write this sappy stuff? Kinda fun, though!