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An oppressive graveness had set in the open air, smothering any sense of tranquility. The sky mimicked the atmosphere with its downcast voidness of color and bleary grey clouds. It appeared that a storm was approaching, brewing sorrowfully deep within the clouds before inevitably crying upon the earth below. The air was bitterly chilly, nibbling at those who dared to stand outside. The scene was a stark contrast to earlier that morning, where the sun had been visible and shining in all its glory, the radiance of its beams illuminating the land lovingly and warming it with its gentle touch.
Heavy footsteps trod across the rocky ground in a manner akin to a final march- a march to one’s ultimate demise. In a literal sense, that was exactly what it was. Each step was achingly slow and deliberate, like walking barefoot on scorching coals, as the figure neared their end.
Two dull eyes peeked out from underneath a black-rimmed hat, scanning over the premises as they were forced to trot along the stone path. Countless scowling faces glared back relentlessly, practically pulling apart the victim of their loathing with their eyes. The disheartened woman frowned in return. Those same people had once greeted her with jovial faces every time she visited the town to sell and buy her wares.
The final destination came into view up ahead. A wooden platform with a constructed upside L-shaped beam protruding from it. Sitting beneath it was a modest beige stool, awaiting someone to occupy it. The part that stuck out the most was the rope hanging from the vertical plank stretching across the top, the end looped in the shape of a teardrop. The shape oddly befitted the sullen nature of the object’s purpose.
It was the one mechanism no individual ever wanted to be subjected to.
Y/n yanked against the handcuffs binding her wrist together in front of her. Of course, the action was to no avail. The enchanted instrument stripped her of her powers and left her defenseless. In response to the unruly movement, the cruel bondage shocked the adorner. A helpless pained cry fell from her mouth at the hurtful sensation.
“Up,” the guard dragging her along by the chain connected to her handcuffs barked, yanking her towards a set of stairs on the side of the wooden foundation.
The startled individual stumbled over her own two feet and almost collapsed against the staircase. Thankfully, she was able to catch herself just in time. She shot a glare at the guard, who all but grinned back at her with warped mirth. They both knew she had absolutely no capability to wipe that smug look off his face in her current state. The notion ruffled her feathers all the more and caused her eyes to burn with fire.
“Onto the stool,” he commanded as he unhooked the chain he had been using to drag her from the handcuffs, “And don’t think about running. We have you surrounded.”
Y/n loured at the knight before spitting in his face. It was a useless rebellion in this hopeless situation, but she might as well have some sort of reprisal before her untimely departure from the living realm. The dirty look aimed back at her gave her much appreciated satisfaction. A cheeky grin curled itself on her lips.
Before he could utter any admonishments, she surmounted the stool and stood facing the crowd below. All of the stark viewers continued to stare daggers into her soul. They practically seethed with odium, the severe enmity wafting off them in scorching waves. The intense stare down stole Y/n’s breath away and seared her skin.
She had been nothing but kind to them, and this was their way of repaying her. By misunderstanding her profession and putting her to sleep eternally. The broken reality of it all left a bitter flavor in her mouth.
The noose was maneuvered around her neck. The grainy texture rubbing against her skin reminded her of what was to come. She swallowed, attempting to purge the anxiety from her mind.
A voice speaking up from beside her broke her free from the troubling thoughts, only to provide her with many more.
“Y/n L/n, you have been found guilty of conspiring with the Devil through witchcraft and are sentenced to death by hanging,” a stout, gruff man announced beside her, “Will you confess to your sins so your soul may find peace, or meet the Devil you have been in service to face to face in the afterlife?”
The witch grimaced at the misconstrued perception of witchcraft and the resulting unjust penalty. Her powers were never used with unjustified ill will towards others nor had she connived with the Devil, yet here she stood, redressing wrongs she never committed in the first place. Dread weighed down her chest and left her unable to breathe for a moment.
“I will not confess to what I have not done. I am innocent and you are a fool,” her eyes flitted down to bore into the man’s soul.
A small smile stretched on her lips when she noticed the way her glare made him shiver. He quickly recovered though, staring right back at her with a face of stone.
“Well then. You shall burn in hell, you filthy witch.”
Y/n bit her lip at the declaration.
This was not how she pictured wrapping up the last of her moments on mortal coil. Being wrongfully insulted for who she was and made an example of in the public’s eye. So much of her life’s work left unfinished and many fleeting moments she would never get to experience.
There really was no escape it seemed. Only the inevitable march of time that would soon end in her own eyes, yet continue for those spiteful individuals condemning her to this fate.
She shut her eyes, not wanting to view the scornful visages observing her final moments. Tears pooled in her eyes before cascading down her cheeks. Soft sniffles echoed from her as she allowed herself one last moment to bask in her senses.
The way fresh air rushed in every time she inhaled to fill her deprived lungs. The sweet scent of flowers nearby drifting into her nose. The chilly breeze brushing against her form as she stood still on the stool. The judgemental murmurs emitted from the mob below. The cold metal of the handcuffs tying her hands together and stifling her ability to use her magic. The scratchy surface of the rope looped around her neck.
In a few moments, it would all be null and void. An overbearing numbness, no, the inability to comprehend and experience at all, would become the overruling state of being. There would be no more Y/n L/n left. Only a corpse that listens on with deaf ears and unfeeling nerves.
“Forgive me, Wil,” she muttered to herself as she bowed her head in shame and grief.
She could already imagine his heartbroken expression when one way or another, the news would reach him. An immense tidal wave of guilt washed over her. Left in the wake of her death would be a promise broken and her own deepest desires gone unfilled. The one who resides in her heart would never know they held her affections in the first place. The secret adoration would be taken to her grave before she even had the chance to confess.
A melancholic smile spread on her face as she envisioned his endearing beaming face. In the face of inevitable death, it made her feel less alone and despised. Fuzzy warmth bubbled in her chest as she replayed her favorite memories of him in her mind.
If she were to die today without finishing all she had set out to do in life, she would at least use her last few moments to reminisce on the merry times of the past.
—=•=—
The rays of the sun danced on the landscape below, blessing it with warmth and light. The merry tweeting of birds permeated through the temperate air. White, pink, and red puffy heads of astrantia flowers amongst the countless grass blades swayed gently in the breeze. A white and pastel blue striped hammock suspended from two poles that were centered in the grassy meadow rocked in the air as well, harboring two lounging figures.
The individual with brown curls fondly observed as the smaller one curled up against his side had her face buried deep in the book hovering inches away from her face. An attentive gaze was held in her eyes as she quietly read to herself. All the expressions she made in reaction to the story unfolding before her made his heart swell. Words could never describe how much he adored her simple mannerisms.
“You’re staring,” Y/n pointed out cooly without even casting a glance his way.
Wilbur only smiled wider at her acknowledgment. The thumb of his arm currently wrapped around her opposing shoulder slowly swirled against the fabric covering it in a circular motion.
“Probably because I like what I’m seeing,” he cheekily teased in return.
That response earned him a startled glance in his direction. Then her expression shifted into one of annoyance. She rolled her eyes, holding her stare on him instead of going back to her book.
“Stop messing with me,” she commanded in playful unease.
“I’m not,” the accused held up his hands in mock surrender.
Y/n’s glare, albeit still pretend, harshened. She pressed an accusing finger against his chest while maintaining direct eye contact. His heartbeat could be felt drumming through it rhythmically. The minute vibration, oddly enough, provided her some semblance of comfort.
“Are to,” she insisted.
“Am not,” he denied.
Y/n persisted, not giving in to his refusal of admittance,
“Are to.”
“Am not,” a brazen grin widened on Wilbur’s face when he reaffirmed his position in this playful argument.
The two said nothing for a moment, simply glaring at one another in the midst of a stalemate. Y/n narrowed her eyes at Wilbur’s smug grin.
“Shut up, Idiot,” Y/n bit back, though she was unable to hide the giggle bursting from her chest.
Wilbur watched with glee as her shoulders bounced with mirth and the grin spread across her face. Her simple delight felt like being engulfed in the sunshine. It made his body tingle with warmth and weightlessness, like he was floating on a cloud drifting by the sun. He would do just about anything to witness her joy every day for the rest of his life.
After finishing her laughing fit, Y/n used her magic to levitate a chocolate bar from a nearby dark green round metal table over to her. Her mouth salivated at the thought of the sweet flavor dancing on her taste buds. To say she had a sweet tooth would be an understatement. Sweets and treats were some of her favorite things in the whole world.
However, before she got the chance to grab it, a certain someone snatched it away. She watched in disbelief as Wilbur clutched onto the chocolate bar. He continued to stare her directly in the eyes while he broke a piece off and popped it in his mouth. The tips of his lips were shamelessly upturned.
Y/n loured at him. Her eyes briefly glanced at his lips for a moment before focusing on his eyes, wanting to avoid certain abashing thoughts. Then she attempted to snag the chocolate back from him. Her efforts were futile because he immediately held up his spindly arm with it in hand out of her reach.
An annoyed huff puffed out from her mouth. She craved something sweet and he had stolen her source of satisfaction from her. All because Wilbur really enjoyed teasing her to no end.
“Hey, at least share some of my own chocolate with me, you jerk!” she ridiculed while attempting to reach for the chocolate.
Wilbur kept it out of reach, moving his arm as needed to ensure she could not grasp it. He knew she would not dare try to extract it with her magic since it would be a waste of energy. Plus, she secretly enjoyed the games they played and would not abruptly nip them in the bud. She would play into them, just like she was right now as she attempted to retrieve her stolen sweets.
He fondly examined her pouty face and grabby hands. There was no way he could possibly resist messing with her when her reactions were so humorous and endearing. It was just too easy and entertaining, like taking candy from a baby.
“And why should I do that?” he questioned with a grin.
Y/n rolled her eyes. Her arm fell back to her side, resting against her motionlessly.
“Because it’s mine.”
The chocolate thief inspected the stolen item thoughtfully, scanning over every inch of it.
“Doesn’t have your name on it,” he quipped when his eyes flitted back to look at the distressed witch.
A dry laugh dropped from Y/n.
“Haha, real funny,” her voice dripped with sarcasm before whining, “Now gimmie chocolate.”
Her mouth opened needily, a finger pointed to emphasize her urgent craving. Her eyes were dead set on the desired food still in his hand.
Wilbur chuckled at the begging sight.
“What, you want me to feed it to you?”
Y/n did not hesitate to confidently banter in return,
“Yes, Peasant. As an apology for stealing it in the first place.”
The unpleasant title caused Wilbur’s face to contort in confusion. The faint feeling of butterfly wings brushed against the lining of his stomach at the thought of feeding Y/n as well. He chose to ignore them, instead questioning her nickname for him.
“Peasant? What are you, some sort of princess?”
A Cheshire grin stretched across Y/n’s mouth as her eyes glinted with mischief. Now was her chance to finally bully Wilbur instead of the other way around. He usually had the advantage when it came to teasing one another- almost like he had a knack for it. With quick wits and remarks, he tended to beat her to it.
“Yes, I’m a princess. Feed me, you low-life peasant,” she demanded calmly.
When Wilbur smirked in response, she immediately knew she had messed up. He was not at all daunted by her shots and had probably already found a way to spin them back towards her. She braced for his next words.
“Wouldn’t that be the job of a prince?” he asked smoothly in a lower voice.
His other hand, unoccupied by the chocolate, brushed softly against her cheek before cupping it. The contact and proclamation caused heat to rise to Y/n’s face. Wilbur’s palm could feel the heat perfectly.
Y/n’s plan had backfired against her. However, she stood her ground and attempted to salvage herself from the hole she had dug. Frayed nerves remained latent under her reconstructed calm facade.
“I see no prince here so a peasant will have to do.”
Wilbur gasped in mock offense at the notion. His hand tugged away from her face and fell back resting around her shoulders.
“How dare you! I think I’m perfectly suited to be your prince,” he declared with wide eyes that swam with pretend hurt.
The statement stupefied Y/n, rendering her utterly speechless. He had referred to himself with the words “your prince”, as though he could potentially be not just a prince but her very own. The oddly romantic implication made her heart skip a beat. More heat rushed to her face as she averted her eyes.
“Whatever,” she puffed out her cheeks in childish dejection, “Just give me my chocolate back.”
“Open your mouth.”
Y/n looked back his way, raising an eyebrow curiously. Nonetheless, she followed his instructions and let her jaw fall open.
She quietly observed as Wilbur slotted a chocolate piece into her mouth. Then he gently pushed it inwards and allowed his finger to slide down against her bottom lip. She could have sworn it lingered there for a little longer than what was considered normal before inevitably slipping away.
The intimate gesture instantly set fiery flames burning in Y/n’s cheeks. She attempted to mask how flustered she felt, instead focusing on the delectable flavor of the chocolate she had finally accomplished reclaiming. It melted wondrously in her mouth and she shut her eyes to savor the treat.
Wilbur kept watching, silently admiring her. Tranquility and satisfaction had washed over her gorgeous visage. He had to suppress the urge to hold her face in his hand again. The feeling of her warm skin against his palm was dearly missed.
When she finished the piece, her eyes fluttered open and met his again. A pleased simper brightened her face. The elated expression made Wilbur melt.
“Where’s my thank you?” he asked teasingly, not missing a chance to mess with her.
Y/n hummed in thought before deadpanning,
“You get none after being a filthy crime boy.”
She looked boredly at her nails for added effect, showing her disinterest in thanking him for his mediocre performance.
Her ignorance ruffled Wilbur’s feathers. Her praise always brightened his mood, so he often found himself seeking it out. Despite being a joking rejection, he still wanted to play into the bit as well. He frowned and exclaimed,
“Bullshit! This is unusual and cruel punishment.”
The unwavering witch leveled her eyes with his own. Her face was stone cold, like a poker face. The only hint of the amusement whirling inside was the joyful glimmer in her eyes. Times like these spent with Wilbur would never get old. She immensely enjoyed their playful interactions.
“I think not, Chocolate Thief,” she shot down his argument and coined a new title for him.
Wilbur gaped in shock. His hand covered his heart at the insult.
“I prefer Chocolate Prince.”
“As though you’re fit to be a prince,” Y/n snorted before mocking his desires, “Guess we can’t all get what we want, now can we, Chocolate Thief?”
Wilbur pouted at the nickname, practically doing puppy eyes that swam with chocolate-hued warmth. His hands were clasped together below his chin. Before he got the chance to rebuttal her rejection, Y/n turned away.
She scanned the landscape around them aimlessly, absorbing the view of the woods that surrounded the small meadow where her cottage resided. The sun was floating overhead, the position revealing the time of day to be around noon. Her book had been long forgotten, set back down on the nearby garden table.
“I should really get going now,” Y/n informed somberly, “I need to head into town today so I can pick up some supplies for the batch of potions I plan on brewing tomorrow.”
Wilbur’s face immediately fell. He did not want her to leave his side yet. Time spent with her was pure bliss, and he was not ready to temporarily give that up right now. Plus, he was always plagued with worry when she visited certain towns. Some were not exactly friendly to her kind.
“Do you really have to go? I’d rather you stay with me longer,” he whined, his hands gripping lightly onto her shoulders to keep her from leaving.
Y/n turned back, seeing his disheartened expression. She frowned back at him. As much as she would love to spend more time with him, there were still responsibilities she had to take care of.
“I’m sorry, Wilbur, but I need to go,” she apologized sincerely while softly rubbing reassuring circles against his arm, “Trust me, I’d rather stay with you longer as well but I also have responsibilities to tend to.”
The sentiment was completely understood by Wilbur, but it did not make him any less crestfallen to see her go. All that was left to do was bid her adieu and long for her company in her absence. Abundant concern was already festering within him knowing she could possibly be in danger going out into public.
“Well then, at least promise me you’ll be safe. There’ve been more persecutions against witches lately.”
His hands clamped around hers, transmitting his wishes for her safe return through contact. He held eye contact as well, using the chance to both convey his sincerity and admire her eyes. If he was never able to see them again, he had no idea what he would do with himself. The distressing thought was quickly shoved away as soon as it crossed his mind.
Y/n noticed the small tremor present in his hands as he latched onto her own. Her frown deepened, already well aware of their shared concern in relation to the recent increase of hostility against witches.
The false belief that witches were inhumane and malicious was becoming more widespread, which led to a rise in witch hunts as well. It was a perilous social climate in the more extreme towns. Commoners transformed into vicious mobs who feared those unlike them that they did not understand. Many innocents, witch or not, were wrongfully accused and convicted of nonexistent crimes. Their unfair sentences were often harrowing and resulted in death.
“Don’t worry, Wilby. I promise I’ll be alright,” Y/n promised softly, resting her forehead against their intertwined hands.
The two stayed in that position for a moment more, relishing each other’s company before they had to part ways. Wilbur softly gazed at Y/n, whose forehead still rested against their connected hands. The eyelashes of her closed eyes looked fluffy and pleasant to the touch. Y/n cherished the softness and warmth provided by Wilbur’s gentle hold.
The first to split away was Y/n, albeit reluctantly. She rose to her feet, leaving a spot now empty next to Wilbur in the hammock. Blades of grass caressed her legs as she began to walk towards the front door of her house where she could grab her belongings. Wilbur quietly observed her stalking off.
On her way to the door, her cute black cat familiar joined her by her side. She stopped to coo at the cat and pet them on the head. The yellow-eyed cat purred in pleasure.
The two entered the house together. A few minutes later, Y/n emerged with a satchel and a different outfit more suited for the visit. Changing was relatively quick and easy for her since she could cast a simple spell to instantly switch outfits. Her cat was still by her side since they would be accompanying her into town today- at a distance, of course, to avoid suspicions of being a witch.
Y/n briefly turned to gaze back at Wilbur.
“Bye Wilby!” she waved, “I’ll see you later.”
Wilbur waved back, covering up his distress at her departure with a strained smile. Y/n was perfectly capable of taking care of herself. He should not be worrying so much about her. Despite his doubts, he had to trust her.
“See you later as well, Y/n.”
He sat alone in the hammock, silently watching her figure retreat down the path before finally vanishing from view completely. A pang caused his heart to ache but he chose to ignore it. The next time they met would be enough to assuage his apprehensions.
—=•=—
The tears had only begun to fall harder as Y/n reminisced. She could not bear to look at reality so she kept her eyes shut.
A saddened smile crossed her quivering lips and then a humorless laugh escaped them.
“Fuck, Wil… I’ll never get to tell you that you really are my Chocolate Prince,” remorse laced her broken voice.
She was met by a deafening silence. The crowd seemed unfazed by her soft murmurings, probably because they had been too quiet to be distinguishable. The poor witch would not doubt that they believed she was chanting some malevolent curse upon the whole village instead.
The only true curse was her inability to confess to her Chocolate Prince.
The darkened sky crackled loudly. Strong gusts of wind began to whip around and rustle the trees. A downpour began, the grey, dreary clouds weeping against the troubled Earth. Every now and then, a lightning bolt would strike and illuminate the sky.
Y/n bowed her head, shrinking under the freezing rain that seeped through her clothing and chilled her bones. She was absolutely soaked. At least her pointed wide-brimmed hat negated some of the drenching. The moment the town had figured out she was a witch, she had cast the spell to change into her normal witch outfit as it was more comfortable to fight in.
Suddenly, the jarring noise of a rope being sliced filled Y/n’s ears. She jumped, startled by the unexpected stimuli.
The noose wrapped around her neck instantly became heavier. She tilted her head upwards, finding that the rope had been cleanly severed. Her eyes scanned the area in confusion before landing on a dagger that had punctured the wooden beam. She immediately knew who it belonged to.
Relief flooded her system as she retrieved the dagger and safely hopped down from the stool, producing a dull thump once her feet met the wooden stage. The crowd gasped in tandem before many broke out into howls and screams of protest to “kill the witch!”. Puzzled unrest conquered the authorities orchestrating the execution as they questioned what was happening and contemplated what actions needed to be taken because of it.
A moment later, a teal, spherical object landed beside Y/n on the podium. She glanced down at it. A morbid darkened pupil stared back up at her. Then it fizzled into purple specs and vanished into thin air.
Fabricating before her eyes in the blink of an eye was the owner of the dagger. Her Chocolate Prince, Wilbur. Wielded expertly in his hands was his esteemed pitch-black sword that glimmered with a violet sheen.
“Fucking shit, Y/n. I told you to stay safe,” he chastised vehemently, stress riddling his expression as he tugged the noose off of her and tossed it aside without a care.
“Now isn’t the time for this,” she huffed in return as she motioned to all the panicked guards currently watching.
They were a bit shell-shocked, to say the least. Frozen in place, unable to move. But that would not last long.
“Seize them!” the Commander ordered as he raised his sword to the sky.
The order jolted the dumbfounded guards from their stupor. They launched forward with weapons brandished, heading straight for the two targets standing on the stage.
Y/n cursed under her breath. The handcuffs were still tightly fastened around her wrists, greatly restricting her movement and barring her from using her magic. All she had was a single enchanted dagger that cut through flesh like butter. Before she could get the chance to ask Wilbur to break the chain, the two were already being bombarded on all sides.
At first, the two fought back to back. Their movements were deft and calculated. Y/n struggled a bit, considering her hands were linked together and all she had to fight with was a single dagger up against multiple armored men with swords. Wilbur also struggled but not as much compared to Y/n. It was mostly due to the sheer amount of opponents that needed to be taken into account and dealt with. Both had to be mindful of their terrain since the ground had become soggy from the pouring rain.
In order to dodge a blow, Y/n slid out of the way. Wilbur followed her movement. Both pairs of feet hit the wet gravelly ground surrounding the bottom of the podium. More noisy impacts followed as the rest of their adversities copied their actions.
“Wilbur, cut my handcuffs when you get the chance please,” Y/n raspily pleaded as she stabbed a knight in the arm before pushing him to the ground.
Wilbur grunted in response, a bit preoccupied with the two knights attempting to take him down. He was already breaking a sweat. Not that he cared. It was worth it if it meant keeping Y/n safe from any further harm. The rain also helped cool him down which ensured that the exertion would not cause him to overheat.
“Turn,” he instructed curtly after successfully beating both opponents.
Y/n, desperate to remove the hurdle, played dirty in her current fight. Her enemy had a certain open area in his stance and she decided to take full advantage of that. Her foot jutted upwards, nailing him where the sun doesn’t shine. To add insult to injury, as he cried out in pain, she stabbed the dagger into his leg and shoved him to the ground.
As soon as she was clear for a second, she spun on her heels towards Wilbur. Her hands were raised up, slightly parted in front of her to lengthen the chain to its full extent.
Seeing the perfect chance was open for the taking, Wilbur raised the sword high above his head. Then he brought the blade down upon the chain. The blow from the enchanted tool decimated the metal links with ease.
With the linking of the handcuffs finally severed, the suppressing effect of them ceased to work. A surge of energy invigorated within Y/n and dispelled throughout her. Sighing in relief at having access to her powers back, she used the initial burst to melt the handcuffs off from around her wrists. They contorted into a droopy muddle before slinking off completely and splattering on the ground with a satisfying squelch.
“Thank you, Wilby,” she shot him a wobbly grin.
He winked in return before turning back around to a new knight approaching. The subtle gesture made Y/n roll her eyes. Even in times as perilous as this, he still managed to be a complete and utter dork.
With a free range of her magic, Y/n began dishing out razor-sharp lavender blades of condensed energy. Her immaculate aim combined with the quick-fire speed gave foes virtually no time to react as they were gunned down in nonvital spots. Each blade was equipped with a temporary paralyzing agent that would be cast upon penetration. Any aggressors who got close enough to attempt striking her were met with the resistance of her energized lavender shields that floated before her.
Without realizing it, Wilbur had been pushed a bit further from Y/n and left her back uncovered. Out of the corner of his eye, he glimpsed at her to make sure she was okay even though he was still in the middle of fighting as well. His eyes went wide.
“Y/n, watch out!” he called out in warning.
Y/n whipped around like a deer in headlights. Her backside, which had previously been her front side before turning, was still completely covered by her shields. However, the side she had turned to had been unprotected and unsupervised.
She saw the threat a moment too late.
The agonizing sting of a blade slashed through her lower abdomen. An involuntary screech erupted from her mouth as she met the fierce eyes of her attacker, an unsuspecting knight that had managed to sneak up on her. She recognized it to be that of the Commander, dawning his ornate badge of rank.
He growled at her, attempting to drive the blade further into her,
“Die, you wicked witch!”
Y/n instantly bounced backward on her feet, putting distance between the two. The movement aggravated the gash and caused her to hiss in pain.
There was a slight hunch in her posture. Her hands were clamped onto the throbbing wound, warm liquid soaking them. More tears formed in her eyes from the intense pain. Her teeth gritted together in an attempt to cope with it.
Wilbur’s heart stopped at the sight. He wanted to get to her side as soon as possible but was caught up in a fight of his own once again. He hated seeing her hurt and did not want to risk actually losing her.
“You fucking bastard…” Y/n lashed out at the Commander as she took a step forward while waving her hands around and forming a glowing lavender sigil midair, “If you want to face a truly wicked witch, then I’ll show you one!”
A bright pearlescent lavender gleam encased her bloodied, torn open abdomen. The long tendrils of light seemed to dance around the marred flesh of the wound. The Commander and Wilbur (who had defeated the last of his aggressors) watched in awe and astonishment as the spindly coils stitched the wound back together at record speed.
When the Commander realized that it was a healing spell, he lunged forward towards the witch in an attempt to catch her while she was still at a disadvantage.
He never reached her. A form crashed into him, the strong force sending him flying to the ground without much resistance. The sword in his hand was flung far out of reach.
As he floundered on the ground, he looked up to see the one who had pushed him had been Wilbur. The enraged man stood over him with a scowl on his face. The blade of his sword was pressed to the neck of the knocked-down Commander. He had been so focused on the target before his eyes that he had forgotten to assess the rest of his surroundings.
“Don’t you dare touch her,” Wilbur demanded darkly, flames swelling in his scorching glare.
Y/n had fully healed by now. The area where the wound had once been was now tingly with a fuzzy warmth, as well as exposed due to her bloodied, torn clothing. She was simply thankful to be alright.
Not wanting to wait around and risk encountering backup defense, she sprinted to Wilbur’s side. Her hand latched onto his shoulder as she spoke urgently,
“We need to leave now.”
Her other hand outstretched. Then she cast a spell, summoning her broom. The handy mode of transportation appeared in her hand.
Wilbur glanced at her and then back at the despicable man laying on the floor before him. The blade was still cautiously pressed against his throat. A horror-stricken expression was written on his face since he was literally at Wilbur’s mercy.
“I want to kill him first for hurting you,” Wilbur admitted in a deadpan voice.
The confession made Y/n frown. She purposefully avoided killing people, even those who provoked her first. Her fighting style was specifically designed to temporarily disable but not slay opponents.
Death was a permanent thing. She did not want such dark, mucky blood on her hands- the knowledge that she had taken someone from their loved ones. The guilt would be too much.
“Please don’t,” she begged, her hand gripping his shoulder harder.
Wilbur looked down towards his companion. Desperation swam in her eyes as she stared up at him. Up close and with a moment of rest, he could see the dampness of her cheeks and irritation of her eyes and nose. It utterly broke him.
“Alright,” he agreed solemnly with a nod of his head, “Let’s go.”
A faint smile appeared on Y/n’s lips.
Her hand flung out towards the Commander, launching two energized daggers at either arm. They missed his body completely and only dug into the edges of the chainmail he wore, effectively pinning him to the ground. That would ensure he was immobilized and unable to intercept their escape.
Hastily, she turned around and correctly positioned the broom to float beside the two. Then she hopped on. Turning to look expectedly at Wilbur, she tapped the spot behind her.
Wilbur joined her without hesitation. The two had ridden together on her broom a plethora of times, so this was nothing new to him. He snuggled into the back of her and wrapped his arms around her waist.
“Ready when you are,” he informed politely.
As the two soared off into the sky, they could hear the furious shouts and yells of the newly arrived battalion- just as Y/n had suspected. A mirage of arrows shot up at the flying pair subsequently.
Every arrow was easily deflected with well-placed shields and swift dodges. As Y/n careened through the air in sporadic motions, her hands lifted from the handle of the broom to form another sigil. The finished spell blanketed the runaways in invisibility so they could not be followed back to her house. Then her hands clasped back around the broomstick she was nimbly maneuvering like it was second nature to her.
She cackled a bit at how Wilbur squeezed her tightly in his arms with his face buried in her hair, clearly a bit terrified about the rocky flight. There was also a sense of urgency in his hold; he held her so securely as though she could slip away at any moment. After that whole ordeal and having his worst fears almost entirely confirmed, Wilbur needed to ground himself through contact with her- reminding himself that she was indeed alive and fine by his side.
Neither spoke. A comfortable silence hung in the air and both willingly basked in it, allowing the rush of adrenaline in their veins to wear off as they recuperated from the arduous battle and the emotional toll of it. The rain became only a trickle before completely clearing up as well.
Not too long later, the two were landing in the front yard of Y/n’s house. Wilbur was first to leap off the broom. Y/n followed afterward. Then a quick spell zapped it out of sight.
Finally able to face one another without the threat of being murdered looming overhead, the pair gaped at each other. Slowly, a shaky smile grew on Wilbur’s face. Y/n mirrored it.
“I thought I was going to lose you,” Wilbur whimpered as he lunged forward and engulfed her in a bear hug, his head nuzzling into the crook of her neck.
Gelid droplets drizzled onto her neck. The chilly liquid sent a shiver down her spine. It had stopped raining a little while ago, so based on that and the sniveling, she could tell Wilbur was crying.
The softened witch returned his embrace without hesitation. Her body sunk into his hold, the warmth of it permeating her skin. A tingly sensation fizzled from where his hand began to trace imaginary shapes on her back.
“It’s okay. I’m right here, Wilby,” she reassured in a hushed voice, “I’m safe.”
Her hands lifted before threading themselves into his curly locks. Then they began to gingerly comb through them in an attempt to comfort him. He immediately melted, slumping forward and sinking further into her. By this point, his body had become flush against her own.
Y/n realized a moment later that her cheeks were also damp. When she had started weeping again, she was unsure. It was probably caused by the sheer relief and gratitude that had finally sunk in after escaping such a harrowing near-death experience combined with being reunited with Wilbur.
She was beyond thankful to have him and even more so that he saved her life. However, a question popped into her mind.
“How… How did you know I was in trouble?”
Wilbur sniffled, the air released from his nostrils fanning against her neck. The briskness of it made her shudder.
“Your cat… Your cat came back without you and began bugging me nonstop,” he explained in a mumbly tone, “I knew immediately that something was wrong.”
Y/n grinned through the tears. Her familiar was truly an intelligent creature who cared about her the same as she did them. She was glad they were able to communicate her peril to her closest confidant.
Wilbur pulled away briefly, glancing down at Y/n’s face. He lightly swept a hand against her cheeks to wipe away her tears. Then, his eyes fell downward as he did a once over her body, scanning it for any injuries.
Observant as always, Y/n stated,
“I’m fine, Wil. I already healed any major wounds.”
Despite her comforting words, his focus latched onto the massive tear in her robes. The new scar embedded on her abdomen was clearly visible. Without thinking, his hand began to trace along it. Dread riddled his aching chest as he recalled the moment Y/n had been brutally sliced.
“I did such a shit job of protecting you,” he berated himself as he stared wistfully at the mark of perceived failure on his part.
A deep frown tugged at Y/n’s lips. Her hand slipped on top of his, halting it as the two palms laid flatly stacked on her scar. She used her other hand to wipe away his tears before cupping his face.
“Hey, don’t be so hard on yourself,” she urged with a soothing lilt, “You literally saved my life. That’s more than good enough.”
Wilbur locked eyes with her, brow furrowed and lips downturned. A shaky sigh fell from his lips.
“Yeah, alright,” he gave in, knowing full well that dwelling on the past could not change it.
His face nestled against her neck again. Breathing in her scent and being pressed against her soft, warm form was oddly calming. The hand that found its way back to running through his hair only further comforted him.
In turn, Wilbur’s hands softly ran up and down Y/n’s sides. She heated up at the intimate gesture but nonetheless enjoyed the tenderness of it.
It was quiet once again. Neither moved from the embrace. After a few minutes, their tears subsided.
Y/n breathed in. She was met with a whiff of Wilbur’s fragrance- cinnamon and cocoa. Sweet and sugary, just like him.
It reminded her of their conversation about chocolate royalty earlier. He had claimed he was fit to be her prince. With no doubt in her mind, he had completely convinced her after risking his own life to save hers. Now that she was free to continue living her life, she could complete that wish she had been hoping to go through with at some point.
Wilbur whined in protest when Y/n nudged his head away from her neck. He straightened out, peering down at the witch in his arms with dissatisfaction written on his face. It softened when he saw her earnest expression.
“Thank you for saving me, my chocolate prince,” Y/n simpered sweetly.
She quickly stood up on her tiptoes and pecked his cheek.
Wilbur gaped back at her in shock. Then his expression filled with elation, his eyes crinkling from how wide he smiled. An overwhelming warmth flooded his chest.
“You’re welcome, my chocolate royalty,” a glint of mischief sparked in his eyes when he glanced down at her lips, “May I receive a prize in return?”
Y/n cocked her head to the side, attempting to ignore the way her stomach flipped. A knowing smile overcame her lips, but she asked anyway,
“And what would that be?”
Wilbur leaned in, bringing their faces impossibly close. His lips practically hovered over hers. A bit of jitteriness caused his hands to slightly tremor, but he already knew it was too late to go back- and he did not want to either if she so let him continue.
“A kiss, perhaps?” he suggested smoothly.
The playful witch smiled back cheekily before turning her head away. Then she pretended to wretch in disgust. She hoped it helped draw his attention away from the heat rising to her face.
“Ew, gross. Absolutely not,” she rejected, though the unconcealed giggling gave away that she was only acting.
Wilbur fake pouted. One of his hands dramatically rested against where his heart was. Y/n was enjoying teasing him a bit too much for his liking, but he did not mind because he cherished her so deeply.
“Oh, how you wound me, Dear,” he lamented as if his heart was shattered.
Another fit of giggles bubbled from Y/n’s chest. Wilbur watched fondly as mirth shook her shoulders and her smile brightened her face like a sunny day. Her lips looked so plush and he felt his urges become stronger.
After finishing her laughter, Y/n looked back at Wilbur with bright eyes. They fell to his lips, taking note of their soft texture and lovely shape. Once again inches from her own.
“Maybe kissing you won’t be so bad,” she commented with a wink, “You are the esteemed Chocolate Prince after all. Your lips probably taste good.”
The very forward compliment flustered Wilbur a bit. A dopey smile accompanied his pink cheeks. He had never been more glad to be called that nickname.
“Well, you can find out right now.”
And find out, Y/n did. Her eyes closed as she pressed her lips against his softly. He returned it with his arms snaked around her waist. Their lips began to move rhythmically together, as though dancing along to their own special song.
Wilbur’s lips really did taste sweet. The flavor was addicting to Y/n, making her crave it even more. Any feelings of bashfulness faded away and were replaced with hunger.
She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and forced him to lean closer, deepening the kiss. He happily obliged. The ghost of a smile could be felt on his lips as he pressed them into hers. One of his hands moved from her waist to cup her cheek instead.
A sense of accomplishment and uncontainable delight overwhelmed Y/n, making her stomach twist in knots all over again. She was actually kissing Wilbur- the person she had been in love with for so long. At that moment, all she could think about was how soft his lips felt against hers.
The two were forced to pull away for air. They inhaled deeply as their eyes fluttered open to tenderly gaze at the other. Euphoria flowed through their bloodstreams.
“I was right,” Y/n concluded smugly, though she was smiling sweetly.
Wilbur only nodded in return, completely dazed with bliss. He drank in the beauty of his companion with half-lidded eyes. This almost felt like a dream with how much he had wanted it to happen.
A light tap on his arm reminded him that this was very much real and drew him back to reality.
“Hmm?” he hummed in response.
Y/n pointed towards the sky while grinning. His line of sight followed along and found what she wanted him to see. A gorgeous rainbow spanning across the pastel blue sky.
His bright expression matched her own at the sight of it.
“I guess good things can come from a storm,” Y/n presumed, though the subject of her attention was Wilbur.
Wilbur glanced back, noticing her honeyed gaze. He could not help but smile uncontrollably. His insides turned to mush when she looked at him so tenderly like that.
Taking one of her hands into his own, Wilbur raised it to his face. Then he softly pressed his lips against her knuckles.
“They sure do, my Chocolate Royalty.”