Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stirred from sleep, Milly went from bleary-eyed to wide awake in moments, a jolt of panic coursing through her as she heard unfamiliar rustling at the end of her bed. She tried to level her breathing– fearing that whatever creature or person was in her room would sense that she was awake– and remained still beneath her blanket.

There were a few steps, and then nothing.

Milly tried looking down at her feet without moving her head, but it was to no avail; the creature was just too far. She wondered for a moment why she believed it to be a beast and not a man, but she was pulled out of her thoughts when she heard her window creak.

Sitting up to perhaps apprehend them before they made an escape, Milly was met with a pair of bright blue eyes. They floated in the air, both iris and whites shining with the pale hue, but still identifiable as eyes. Milly’s mouth opened in shock, but she wished she had been smarter about the confrontation, because as soon as their gazes met, the beast turned and jumped from the open window.

Milly started from her bed, rushing to catch a glimpse in the dark of night, but the only image she had managed to hold onto was a pair of wings: wide and black in the night sky. Her mouth opened in awe as the visage disappeared.

…

It came again.

Milly wasn’t sure why she felt like it would, but somewhere in her gut she knew that the thing that had visited her wasn’t a menacing presence. She had only caught a glimpse of it in the sky and had spent most of her time panicking while it was in the room, but she imagined it more as a curious being.

And she was right.

Well, mostly.

When it did come again, Milly heard the noise and shot straight out of bed, fully determined to befriend the thing, but she had instead spooked it, and it was out the window before she could say hello. Dejected, she decided a different approach would be better.

Preparing herself for its next visit, Milly was eager when it returned the next night. This time, however, Milly stayed rolled in her sheets, listening carefully to the movements and sounds. Nothing truly out of the ordinary happened, but she noted that it didn't move for long periods of time. She wondered if it just stood eerily still, watching her sleep.

And yet, she wasn't bothered by the way it watched. She was more interested in the why .

The creature only ever stayed for about an hour, and it only ever watched, but it was plenty of time for Milly to come up with wild imaginations of what it could be. Meryl had warned her of various creatures that she knew of with ill-intent toward humans. Meryl had also met her fair share of deities whose arrogance was greater than any mortal's, and that resulted in trouble for everyone. 

One night, after the beast had flown off, satisfied with its stay, Milly found herself dozing back into sleep and imagining the various possible faces of the creature. Some were grotesque, the others more animal-like; both were filled with sharp teeth and claws. She tried to recall some of the paintings on the wall of Wolfwood’s temple, but the mosaics there were old and chipped, filled with forgotten gods and useless prayers to empty spaces. 

At least, that's how she felt about his cult, not that he would let him know. 

Her unseen creature came often, but inconsistently. Sometimes there were a couple of days between each visit, or there would be stretches where it came multiple days in a row. One thing was certain: it never was gone for more than a week. Whatever was drawing the creature to Milly was keeping it from staying away for long.

After a couple months of inconsistent visits, some sleepless nights, and Meryl questioning her at least once a week if she had anything on her mind, Milly decided she would try and befriend the creature again. But the plan was not so simple in execution. She had a feeling that being her normal, chipper self was not going to win over the beast, so she had to come up with a more subtle plan. 

That night, Milly sat up in her bed, the cool wall aligned with her back. She sat facing the window, hoping to catch the creature when it arrived. The idea seemed genius: to catch the creature when it arrived, and she wasn't quite sure why she hadn't tried it earlier.

Hours later, she realized why.

Tired, sore eyes and a weary mind begged her for sleep, but Milly would not give in. She was determined to befriend the beast that visited her, and she would stay up all night if it meant even a chance.

She felt herself slipping, but was powerless to stop it. Flopping onto the surface, the bed was soft on her cheek and her eyelashes gently brushed the surface as they closed. Almost as soon as she had unwillingly resigned, Milly heard the flutter of wings.

Gasping, she sat up, then slapped her hands over her mouth to silence the sound, but the eyes were already on her. Blue beacons cutting through the dark to find her, piercing and wide and fear inducing. The fear in her heart quickly melted away when she recognized that same fear in the blue eyes before her. Milly's hands lowered as she observed them, grateful for a moment where they were both in awe of each other. Then, it went for the window. 

“Wait!” Milly called, her hands reaching out in a futile effort to stop it, “Wait, I-”

Milly had thought long and hard about how she was going to approach the beast, get it to stay, but she hadn't taken a moment to think about what to say.

Thankfully– amazingly – the thing had stopped, turning back to look at her.

Deciding to stick with what was comfortable, Milly settled on asking the creature, “What's your name?”

She hoped and prayed that it knew how to speak.

Silence ticked by like the crawl of a caterpillar on a leaf: slow and methodical. Even in the darkness, she could sense the creature's deliberation. Then, when she had nearly convinced herself it had forgotten the question, it spoke.

“Knives,” it said, in a low, masculine tone. Nothing monstrous, like she had expected, but like a man.

Then, he was gone.

Chapter Text

“Milly,” Meryl said with a snap of her fingers, “Milly!”

Finally acknowledging her friend, Milly looked up at the wood nymph, who was staring back with a look of concern. “Hmm?” Milly was able to say.

“Are you alright?”

Taking in a sharp breath, almost as if she were waking up, Milly answered while rubbing the sand from her eye, “Just sleepy.”

“You're starting to get dark circles,” Meryl said with concern, “Are you sure you're alright?”

Milly just nodded, reminded of why she was so tired, and his name was Knives.

Milly was always asleep when he came, his hidden figure sneaking in through her window unseen and her sight lost in the darkness of the room. During their conversations, she would meet his glowing gaze, bright and burning against the void, only igniting her curiosity further.

She had gotten some information out of him over the past month of talking and staying up late into the night together, but he was still so cagey. Early on, Milly tried asking him the simplest of questions about himself like favorite colors and foods, but he had refused to answer, demanding information of her without the equal return. Milly tolerated it only because he still seemed so frightened, even with the strange, pompous air he carried around with him, and she always had a way of getting information eventually.

After a month of talking, Milly knew his favorite color was red and his favorite “human food” was the loaves of bread made down the street from her home, even when he wasn't able to get it very often.

Eventually, their conversations carried with ease, and the more he visited, the closer he allowed himself to draw toward her. At first, he remained by the window, ready to jump at the first sign of danger, but he quickly learned that Milly was no danger. 

Despite the safety of her home, they always started separated: Milly in bed and he perched at the foot where her chest of clothes resided. But as they got talking about the most mundane things (what the kids in town were up to, how the local cult was doing, and even the price of raw wool at the market) they would find themselves knee to knee on the edge of the bed, or shoulder to shoulder while sat up against the wall, legs splayed on the floor. 

Sometimes, Milly would relate stories of her family, explaining the dynamic further to him. He was always quiet during those times, hesitant to ask further, but Milly could sense his intrigue of human life, despite his long winded complaints of their follies and faults. Milly didn't need to ask him in order to understand his curiosity. He revealed it easily through his other answers, like how he doesn't understand how people can flow so easily throughout the center of town, and with his favorite foods: bread, lamb, honeyed candies. He even absently admitted once that he didn't need to eat, and Milly filed that thought away for later.

And yet, through it all, the creature was a visual mystery to her. She wanted so desperately to see him, to know what he was, but Knives refused, insisting he stay hidden in the dark. He provided no reasoning for this, but Milly simply assumed he might scare her if he revealed himself in the light. Whatever was hidden in the blanket of night wouldn’t have frightened her, but Millly had no way of convincing him; he was too stubborn, unwilling to bend to the will of a human .

Milly knew he knew what she looked like; what would have motivated him to visit her in the first place? All she knew of his physical appearance was the silhouette of twisted wings that flashed in the dim moon that first night she saw him, and the blue glow of his eyes in the dark: unnatural and alluring.

Even though they glowed, they cast no light on the room around her. Unlike a lamp or a small candle that would illuminate a short radius, the blue only revealed the shape of his eyes.

They were downturned, almost lonely in contrast to his fierce words and temperament. She often tried to imagine what facial features surrounded them, how heavy his lashes were or what set, stern brows sat above.

Those eyes were so expressive and easy to interpret, resulting in various moments when she would tease him for lying or hiding parts of his stories, only for him to close his eyes and hide away completely. It was adorable to imagine him pouting, trying to brood even when she couldn’t visually witness it. 

It was during a night like this when she mustered up the courage to ask again.

“Can I see you?”

He was quiet for a moment, taking longer to answer than he had in the past, but still ultimately answering with a firm, “No.”

Milly frowned, wishing he could see her displeasure (she had a feeling he could), “Fine, then let me feel.”

“What?” he asked, his confusion harsh.

“Rather than using my eyes, let me touch. I promise to only touch your face, if you guide me to the right place,” her words were deliberate, desperate to convince him to at least allow her this. 

A tense silence filled the room, and his brilliant eyes scanned over her (he definitely could see her) while he contemplated his answer. Finally, after forcing Milly to hold her breath, Knives replied with a simple, “Okay.”

Gingerly, he wrapped his hands around her wrists, raising her hands to meet his face. She took notice of his fingers on her, paying attention to how regular and warm they felt. Milly knew the general area of where his face resided based on his floating eyes, but it was still startling when her hands made contact with the soft skin of his cheeks. Adjusting accordingly, she arranged her hands to cup his jaw, thumb pads touching what she believed to be his cheekbones.

Closing her eyes to focus on a mental image–even while in a completely dark room–Milly moved slowly, tracing and memorizing every element of the surface of his expression. Her hands moved in symmetry, first tracing below his eyes, lining the thin skin with her fingertips. She trailed upward and around the outside, feeling his brow bone. A gasp left her mouth in surprise when she felt hair , running her thumbs eagerly along his eyebrow. He chuckled, the sound rumbling beneath her touch.

Milly spent far too much time on his brows, trying to identify just how fine the hair was, almost as if she could determine the color only by the feel. Her middle and index finger eventually traced over his temple, noting the gentle dip in the skin. She grazed his hairline, intrigued by its presence and by the supposed style. Sliding her right hand further in, another gasp escaped her.

“You have long hair,” her hand pulled through easily, the long wavy locks slipping delicately through her fingers.

“I do,” his amused voice replied.

She almost repeated the action, but felt embarrassment heat her cheeks, “I’m sorry. I said I would only touch your face.”

“That’s alright,” and he grabbed her wrist again, returning it to his cheek.

Milly restarted her memorization efforts, both hands charting the edge of his hairline until she felt the hard cartilage of his ear. She was careful not to shove fingers where they ought not go, delicately following the lines of the shell. Half expecting pointed ears or no ears at all, Milly was surprised when they felt similar to hers, if not softer. Her fingers got distracted by the lobes, pinching them gently between her thumb and forefinger. He took in a sharp breath, causing Milly to smile in the dark.

Moving downward, she lined the corner of his jaw, determining that it was strong and pointed, ending in a sharp chin. She felt for any cleft or dimple, but it was free of either. 

While investigating his chin, the tip of her thumb grazed the edge just below his lip on accident, and she pulled away quickly, the feeling of touching his mouth almost shocking her hand.

Before he could question her withdrawal, Milly asked, “May I…touch your eyes?”

Knives didn’t respond, just repeated the same motion of taking her wrists in his hands, guiding her to the requested location. 

The palms of his hands were warm when they gripped her wrists, his long fingers wrapping around the entire circumference. Perhaps that’s what she would ask to explore next. 

He was slower this time, wary of her around his eyes, so Milly waited for him to press her hands to the surface. Laying her thumbs almost directly in the center of his lids, he released when she found that comfortable position against his cheeks. 

His lashes were so long. She imagined if she saw them in the light of day she would be struck with jealousy, eager to find out what he did to get them to be this way. Then, she realized it was probably magic that made him this gorgeous.

Milly hoped he couldn’t see her blush.

So far, every feature of his face had been beautiful, his skin clean and free of blemish beneath her touch. Her thumb traced further around his eyes, following the hollow of his sockets and landing at the outer edge when she felt something out of symmetry. Brows furrowing in concentration and confusion, her left thumb ran in circles around a raised bump. It couldn’t have been big, hardly the size of her pinky nail, but her jaw dropped anyway.

“A beauty mark,” she breathed, gentle as she outlined the 'blemish'.

He hummed in response, and she pulled the hand away.

“Milly?” he questioned.

“I just need one hand for the next part.” 

Her right hand took the lead, traveling to the middle of his face and finding his nose where it ought to be (thankfully). Starting from the space between his brows, she dragged her fingers down the bridge, desperately trying to create a mental image of its shape. It was upturned, long and pointy by human standards, but from what she could glean, it matched the rest of his sharp features well. She followed the natural edges, mapping the tip and around his nostrils with the edge of her fingers. He exhaled, the air tickling her knuckles. 

During the entire process of charting his face, Milly couldn’t help but think he felt so undeniably human . Based on the way he spoke or the silhouette of him in the darkness, she had expected something entirely different. Perhaps a harpy with rough skin and feathers that stuck out at odd angles, or a statue with hard, rock-like features. Milly considered other beasts that manifested serpentine scales and various eyes that stared unseeingly into the distance, but Knives was soft, his skin stretched evenly over his bones; familiar bones that she would recognize on any other man (although the particular shape of his nose and line of his jaw were a rare treat). 

If she didn't know better, he might have resembled an angel.

Swallowing hard and steeling her nerves, Milly let her fingers fall past his nose, following the dip just below as it sloped into his lips. Hesitation stopped her for a moment, but the image in her mind was incomplete without at least knowing the shape of his mouth. Pressing forward, her index finger ran around the edges. She felt the rounded peak where regular skin met the thin pink of his lips, and the simple pockets in the corners were downturned as she had always imagined. He was free of any dry or dead skin, perfectly smooth lips from corner to corner.

Although her mental map was finished, Milly couldn’t help her desire to touch again. Resting her fingers beneath his chin, she used her thumb to run tenderly along his bottom lip, feeling for anything she had missed the first time.

This time, she felt and heard a gentle gasp.

Her mind told her to stop, that she had gotten what she wanted, but her thumb continued to play with the skin, more intentionally dragging and pulling at his now open mouth. 

Long fingers grasped her wrist in the dark and pulled her hand away. Milly felt disappointment and embarrassment fill her, immediately missing the gentle feel of his skin beneath her fingertips and wondering if she had crossed a line. 

Her mind filled with every negative possibility, at least until his opposite hand slid against her jaw with ease in the pure black (he absolutely could see her). A squeak of surprise was trapped between them as his lips pressed eagerly against hers. 

Milly sat rigid for a moment, stunned at his kiss, but the taste of his lips was hard to resist. Feeling with her fingers was one thing, the actual press of them was… heavenly . 

When Knives kissed her again, Milly’s brain kicked back into gear, leaning further into his lips. Knives' hold around her wrist weakened, his mind distracted with more important matters. Taking advantage of the moment, Milly traced down his palm and tangled their fingers together. He pressed harder against her mouth, using the hand on her jaw to bring her face closer– despite already being as close as possible.

Lifting to kiss his delectable mouth again, anticipating the way his nose would poke into her cheek, Milly was met with dead air. She opened her eyes, half expecting to see something waiting in the darkness, but all she could see were his shining eyes, the pupils thin and dangerously sharp.

"This was a mistake," was all he said before wrenching his hands away and jumping from her window, flying off into the night.

Chapter Text

“I’m seriously worried about you, Milly,” Meryl said at morning tea.

Having let her own drink grow cold, Milly was almost falling asleep at the table. She knew trying to deflect would just make Meryl all the more curious, and she should stop hiding what was going on, especially if it was bothering Milly so much.

“I met someone,” Milly said outright, her cheek resting in her hand lazily.

Meryl’s eyes nearly bugged out of her skull, “And you didn’t tell me?!”

A tired smile formed on Milly’s face, “It doesn’t matter now because he’s gone.”

“Is that why you’ve been…” Meryl stopped her thought while Milly’s eyes drooped closed, “so tired?”

Milly hummed back, reminded of her long and restless nights. They weren’t unintentionally restless, however. Milly just couldn’t keep herself from staying up late waiting for Knives to return.

She had fully expected him to be there the next night, and she had intended to apologize for inconveniencing him or being too forward or for just reciprocating his kiss, but he didn’t appear. And he didn’t show up the next night. It had been over a week since she’d last seen him, and that tiny little unfamiliar worm of doubt was wiggling its way into her mind, enough so that she fully admitted to Meryl that he was… gone.

“Well,” Meryl began, and Milly opened her eyes, “Screw him.”

Milly giggled lightly, “You didn’t even know he existed.”

“And I don’t need to. If he gave up having Milly Thompson, then there’s something wrong with him.”

Milly just laughed again, grateful for the reassurance.

And yet, she would stay up tonight, waiting.

…

Turning the corner and stepping onto the street, Milly made her way down to the edge of town where Wolfwood lived in his ancient temple of nearly forgotten gods. Perhaps he would have a clue as to where her beast had gone.

Despite Meryl’s effort to cheer her up, Milly still couldn’t get Knives’ eyes out of her mind. She missed talking with him for hours on end, and she missed his curiosity, and she missed his warmth. 

Some nights she would wonder if he felt the same.

When he had failed to show up at her home after a month of waiting, Milly decided to take matters into her own hands and find him. But all she had to go on were his eyes, his wings, and his hard-headed personality.

Meryl was her first choice and closest connection to the magical. She certainly had an invaluable knowledge of gods and creatures, but it was based more on personal experience and bias, not recorded histories. So, Milly decided to visit her next best option.

“What do we have here?” Wolfwood said as she approached the doors. He was leaning on the door jam, arms folded over his chest, which was hardly covered by his ceremonial clothes. 

“Hi, Mr. Priest!” Milly greeted with her most dazzling grin.

He eyed her knowingly, “I know that smile. You want something.”

Milly’s expression turned bashful, “Am I really that easy to read?”

Wolfwood just scoffed and smirked, trying to hide his amusement, “So, what have you come for, Big Girl? I have a big wig coming later today to perform an offering.”

That surprised Milly. Not many people came by Wolfwood’s cult, seeing as it worshiped two minor and neglected deities. Wolfwood seemed to be the only one dedicated to the cause, and even he seemed to regret the decision. 

“I met a creature,” she began, and Wolwood’s eyebrows raised, “and I wondered if you had anything I could look through to find out what it was.”

“What did it look like?”

“That is where I’m stumped,” she replied, twiddling her fingers behind her back, “I don’t know what it looks like.”

“What did you do, meet it on a cold and dreary night?” he said jokingly, but Milly just gave him a smile that confirmed his joke, and he gave an exasperated sigh, “Yeah, I’ve got stuff, but I can’t promise it’ll help.”

“Anything is great by me!”

…

Wolfwood was right, of course. None of his scripts were anything of use. Some descriptions were close to what she imagined Knives to look like, but they failed to go into detail about his personality. She should have assumed, seeing as priests and followers alike were often biased to present their god as positively as possible, but she still held out some hope of finding accuracy. Instead, most of the records held details of silent or animal-like creatures that stalked the earth, or probable fictional retellings of heroic acts committed by the twin love gods that Wolfwood had sworn his life to. When she had had enough of looking through his endless pages, Milly bid her friend goodbye, but not before stopping at the chipped mural along the wall. It was gorgeous in her eyes, but Milly had always been one to adore art. 

In bright colors painted atop a sculpted relief were the twin gods, facing opposite each other as they soared through the skies, bestowing arrows of love on those they deemed in need. Milly didn’t know much about their particular story, but she did have a general understanding of what they looked like based on the mural. Both blond and beautiful– to match with the love god occupation– the twins were depicted in white flowing robes with equally as blinding white wings that trailed behind them, carrying them wherever the hearts desired. The background included people in love and lovely flowers in bloom. Spring was a common theme with the twins.

One aspect of the painting that had unfortunately been weathered by time were some of the intricate details. Lip and eye colors had been lost, and most of the grass at the bottom had weathered into one large mass of green instead of individual swipes and strikes of a paintbrush. It made Milly long for what was lost.

When she was a young girl, and Wolfwood had yet to arrive in town and claim the temple, she would come and stare at the painting, wondering who the artist had been. Why had he decided to depict them in this way? Why were the twins moving in opposite directions instead of together? And why couldn't she remember the color of their eyes?

Finally departing with another wave to Wolfwood, Milly noted that the sun was still in the sky. She decided it was a beautiful day– and she had spent enough time moping– that it would be wasted if she didn’t take advantage of it. As she walked out back onto the street, she eyed the market and moved in a familiar pattern toward her favorite stalls. The baker greeted her warmly, and his wife snuck her a piece of flatbread behind his back. She stopped by Meryl’s favorite jeweler, eyeing the lovely new pieces of jade that had just recently been brought in from the west. The green would go quite well with the color of Meryl’s bark. 

Opting to bring Meryl back another time, Milly wandered and winded through the mingling crowd. She touched delightful fabrics and swindled shopkeepers with her smile. She even met a new leatherworker. He was from the hills and had grown up a shepherd, but in his adult life had found love in crafting and working with leather. Milly found it extremely admirable, and he had a cute smile she couldn’t help but remember with fondness. 

Noticing that the sun was no longer high in the sky, but instead lazily meandering behind the mountain, Milly turned to face the direction home, which luckily passed by the baker. She hoped he hadn’t run out of the sweet date bread she admired. 

She tried to peer over the crowd, grateful for her height, when she caught sight of the stand, but the crowd covered up the selection of goods. Milly huffed, and decided to walk over to get a look, but not before she noted something she could see: an upturned nose.

Her mouth dropped open and she sped forward.

Standing and speaking with the baker was a man. Tall and fair, he had an upturned nose, a sharp chin, and long wavy locks tied back in a simple braid. The corner of his mouth ticked upward slightly as the baker said something kindly to the man, and Milly’s eyes landed on the beauty mark below his right eye.

Milly wasn’t sure how she knew, but she knew. It was him. He matched all of her imagined and mapped out depictions of him in her mind. 

Before she could stop herself, and probably against her better judgment, she called out, “Knives!” and the man perked up.

Her heart fluttered when he turned to her, eyes wide in surprise. But they were his eyes: blue, and downturned in a permanent sadness. 

As soon as the excitement had entered her chest, it was dashed when he turned away from her and disappeared into the crowd. Pushing with perhaps an impolite amount of force, Milly eventually made it to the baker, panting from her sprint.

“Who was that man?” she was able to ask, “Who was just here?”

The baker was wide eyed at her sudden arrival, “I’ve never gotten his name,” he replied.

“But you’ve met him before?” she questioned, surprised.

“Certainly,” the baker said matter-of-factly, “He comes often to grab my sweet loaves.”

Milly’s heart lit up again. So it was him. Those fluffy little treats were a favorite, and he always mentioned how delicious he found them, despite his dislike for other human foods.

Milly thanked the baker, and bought a similar loaf of bread before departing for home, strangely encouraged after spotting Knives (and being able to recognize him). She wished she had been smart enough to catch him, but now she could pick him out in a crowd. Then, she laughed to herself in disbelief, raising a hand to her forehead.

“I can’t believe he’s blond. ”

…

For the first time in many nights, Milly went immediately to bed. As of late, her pattern had included sitting up and watching the window for signs until she couldn’t stay awake, but with the strange sighting of Knives that day, Milly had a renewed hope. She felt that searching for him wouldn’t be so difficult now that she had a face.

And yet, she felt this silly little puddle of guilt in her stomach. Knives had been so careful not to show himself to her, likely trying to keep himself safe, and she had completely bypassed that all when she recognized him. It wasn’t her fault, but she couldn’t help but feel like it was.

Sleep came easily to Milly– seeing as she had been sleep deprived for months– and it was dreamless. At least, until Milly heard the creak of her windowsill.

Snapping her eyes open, Milly sat up to see Knives standing before her window and she felt her heart almost sing with excitement at the sight of his blue eyes. He was still hidden in the dark, magically clouded by shadows, but she didn’t need to see him. She could see now that she had never needed that.

Milly slipped out from beneath her sheets and planted her feet on the floor.

“Milly,” he began, and Milly couldn’t believe how much she had missed the way his low voice filled the room, “I’ve only come back to-”

Knives probably had something important to say, seeing as he was always so careful with his words, but Milly’s less careful actions were more influential. Easily finding his face in the dark, his lips were just as easily met with her own, and as soft as she had remembered. 

When she eventually let him go, ready to allow him speak his mind after conveying her own thoughts through a kiss, she felt a jolt run up her spine as he recaptured her attention by wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his lips back onto hers, kissing Milly as if she were his lifeblood. Milly was only too willing to respond as she buried her hands in his hair and savored every taste. It almost felt as if he was making up for lost time, apologizing for every previous night he had missed where they could have been doing just this. 

Milly sighed as his hands traced up her back, and hers stretched down to touch the soft skin of his bare shoulders, pressing dents with her fingertips. Both of them pulled and stretched, molding together into one as they kissed. When they finally separated, Milly’s lips wet and likely swollen, she opened her eyes to find him revealed: the man she had seen at the market, and she smiled.

“So, you finally show up,” she said quietly, touching his flawless skin with delicacy, worried he might disappear if she moved too quickly..

“I came to say goodbye,” he replied and the harsh words were gentle on his lips.

Her heart sank and tried not to let it show in her body language, but he smiled and Milly nearly fell in love all over again. She met his blue gaze, “But?”

“I think I’ve been convinced otherwise, despite my own level headed deliberation.”

She nearly rolled her eyes at the thought of him being level-headed, but pushed on with her questioning, “Why would you think to leave in the first place?”

Knives was silent, and Milly could hear him thinking. It took several moments for him to gather the words, and even then he was hesitant, “I didn’t think it was real.”

She cocked her head, “You, or me?”

“Us,” he said, still so scared of his own thoughts, “I… I worried it was an outside force that made me– urged me – to… to come to you.”

“And was it?” she asked, hoping to drag some context out of him.

He bit his lip, “It was, but perhaps I have broken away from its influence.”

Milly wasn’t entirely sure what he was speaking of, but she chalked it up to magic and gods and the careful balance that kept them as deity rather than mortal. Her wandering contemplation was interrupted by another kiss, soft and undeniable.

“You always make yourself out to be so wise,” Milly said when they broke, wrapping her arms around his neck once again,  “and yet you nearly didn’t believe how I felt after reciprocating a kiss.”

The blush on his cheeks radiated onto hers and she grinned wide, incredibly grateful now that she could see the pink as it grew, “I…”

He didn’t continue. He didn’t need to. Milly knew why he had left just based on the feeling he exuded. 

He was scared. Even an immortal like him had been scared.

Milly ran a hand through his hair  as a comfort and he leaned into the touch. She smiled, noting that the waves in his hair felt the same as before, and the same as that relief on the wall of the temple. Her hand came to rest on his jaw, “That mural looks just like you, by the way.”

He perked up, eyes wide in surprise, “How did you know?”

“Once I spotted you this afternoon it wasn’t too difficult of a leap,” she replied a bit absently. His hair was just so soft, “Though, I am a bit angry that you failed to mention that you have a brother.”

“He’s a menace,” Knives commented, his words a grumble in his chest, “I used to chide him for meddling too often in human affairs.”

“And now?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and looking for him to answer in the way she wished.

“Perhaps,” he said slowly, “meddling in human affairs isn’t always… detrimental.”

She grinned wide, resisting the urge to kiss him again in order to tease, “Am I really so destructive?”

He grew flustered again, thinking to try and defend himself, but he just sputtered out words and half-formed phrases until Milly freed him by silencing him with a gentle peck. He melted in her arms.

Running a thumb along his cheek and grazing that gorgeous beauty mark, Milly said, “If you thought I was dangerous before, then we truly don’t know each other well enough yet,” and proceeded to kiss him until a god bent to her will.