Chapter Text
Heavy breaths echoed through the forest as Candle fled from the Witch Hunter that was pursuing her. Sweat beaded at her forehead as she ran through the forest, footsteps of her attacker echoing close behind her.
“Get back here you damned— witch!” The hunter yelled from behind, struggling to keep up with the pitchfork in his hands, yet still managing to follow her.
The said witch was running as fast as she could, how was she supposed to know that the village was waiting to ambush her? She had just gone to scour the market, but damned men! Prying too far into her personal life. She looked around the setting, hoping for something, anything that looked familiar to any landmarks she knew. Candle had ran into a random direction- foolish, she knew. Nothing sparked, and she internally scolded herself for letting her guard down.
The witch hunter took a deep breath before speeding up. He was extremely persistent in catching her, but she was used to running. It was the only thing she knew outside of her “evil witchcraft.” Maintaining her pace, she took a sharp right, hoping to throw him off track.
“You— filthy creature! Halt at once!” The man screamed across the clearing, trying to get something through her thick skull. Candle ignored the man, her mind too focused on a possible escape route to permanently lose her attacker.
Or was— she was quickly pulled out of her thoughts by the dropping of his weapon, and a loud CRACK, followed by a pathetic cry. The witch looked back, and saw the hunter in the grasp of a magical tree root. Damnit, how did they get so far into the forest in so little time? Her empathy kicked in, and she walked over carefully.
“U-Unhand me now! You… witch!” The hunter’s voice cracked, tears pricking at his jade eyes from the pain. Candle got a closer look at her pursuer. He had silver hair, his face adorned with a monocle, and was dressed with a white, ruffled, laced dress shirt paired with a light green vest, that was all muddied up from being plowed into the dirt like a gardening hoe.
The purple haired woman carefully pulled away the branch grasping at his ankle with her own magical abilities, the man’s breath hitched in pain at the small movement, a tear rolling down his cheek as he wriggled away from her. Candle thought for a second, before gently voicing her intentions.
“Let me look at your ankle, you must’ve broken it,” she whispered to the hunter, who averted his gaze before allowing her to do so. He seemed hesitant to allow her to help, but maybe the pain was too much to bear.
“This doesn’t mean anything, I will have you hanging by sunrise!” The man scowled under his breath, and in response, he got a small giggle from his target.
“Are you sure? You’ll be lucky if you can even walk back to your little village and its people.” Candle smiled, gently taking off his shoes to feel around his ankle.
“Preposterous! I am Silver Spoon, born into a lineage of professional witch hunters! You’ll regret your words, you damned witch!” Silver Spoon stated. Great, now she has to deal with an inflated ego.
“We’ll see.”
Unfortunately to both parties, Silver had a severely broken ankle. Which meant Candle had to haul him back to his village. And if that wasn’t enough, he chickened out and refused to return, because he was convinced they’d kill him for letting Candle get away without a fight. So, she hauled him all the way to her hut in the forest because she didn’t have the heart to leave him in the middle of the forest alone, and he greatly appreciated that because… he was one giant scaredy cat.
Over the course of 10 minutes, she found that he was scared of; being alone, heights, disapproval, getting dirty, germs, snakes, and the most confusing one of all, snails. What do you mean SNAILS? How- They’re so cute!
“It’s the slime, I swear! It’s gross and- slimy and- ugh!” Silver whined in her arms, crossing his own.
“Whatever you say… now be quiet before we both get hung.” Candle shushed him, and he hesitantly obeyed. He couldn’t believe it, he was listening to and in the hands of a witch, the very thing his lineage hunted. His ancestors must be looking down at him, ashamed.
Candle sighed as she attempted to open the door to her hut, which was difficult when you had a 100 pound man in your arms. Silver noticed her struggle and opened it for her.
“Thank you, Silver.” Candle smiled.
“How do you know my name- is it because of your witchcraft?” Silver spewed before Candle laughed in his face. He told her out loud, but perhaps he has a tiny brain.
“I guess so,” she lied, setting him down on the long wooden bench she had, “Here, let me conjure up a brew for the pain.”
“And how do I know you aren’t poisoning me, hm?” Silver Spoon crossed his arms with a smug smirk across his face, like he’d caught her red handed.
“I’d never harm anyone, such harmful stereotypes you and your people have…” Candle closed her eyes and shook her head disapprovingly, before then starting the fire underneath her cauldron.
“Just making sure…” he frowned before looking around her hut before another thought crossed his mind, “Say.. I never got your name, did I?”
“It’s Candle, pleasure to meet you.” The purple haired woman smiled as she grabbed ingredients.
“Well… Candle, I.. I appreciate what you’ve done for me so far… Even if you are a witch.” He struggled saying those words, as if he had never spoken them before. Fatherless behavior, she could tell.
“It’s no problem, even though you and your friends tried to kill me.” She laughed gently, like a wind blowing against the rippling water. Silver observed the woman as she reached up and grabbed herbs that were growing on top of her ceiling.
“What is that?” He asked, his right brow slightly raised. Candle smiled at him once more, rendering him speechless.
“I doubt you’d know what it is, given your.. royal exterior, but it’s called Dragon’s tongue. It has amazing healing properties.” She eyed the witch hunter, before returning to potion making.
“So… You don’t have any, per se… eyeballs, brains nor tongues?” Silver asked once more, which made the lady give him a side eye.
“Now what in spirit? What stories do they feed you as children?”
“Well, as you said… it’s a- ‘stereotype’, whatever that means.” Silver Spoon crossed his arms and legs.
“Well, every witch is different, I suppose. Eyeballs are needed for some potions, but certainly I don’t use human eyes. I am not a killer. I would never think of harming another.” she gently stated, her dress flowing around her knees as she walked station to station to grab her supplies. Silver replied with a short hum that reminded her of a flowing brook.
“I see,” the man relaxed, giving a short sigh. He hoped she was telling the truth.
It was silent until Candle was done with the brew, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. It gave the woman a chance to read his aura, to understand his mindset. Silver, on the other hand, was more than uncomfortable. It was too quiet for his liking, he hated it. When the witch broke the silence, all the stress flooding his chest dispersed, like she was guiding him in meditation.
“Here you go, it may not taste the best, but it’s best for your injured ankle,” Candle smiled as she handed him a wooden cup filled with the strange liquid. He brought it up to his lips before taking a careful sip. The taste wasn’t unpleasant, yet it was foreign, rich and overwhelming on his senses. He took a deep breath before finishing the drink.
“Thank you, dear. That indeed made me feel better,” he gave her a genuine smile, before it was hidden by his ego, “You treat me with the respect I deserve, as you should, I do hail from a royal bloodline after all!”
Candle sighed, “Well, your Highness, I suggest you get some rest. Shall I show you where you’ll be sleeping?”
“That would be utterly delightful!” Silver smiled as she stabilized him, his injured ankle off the ground. She slowly brought him to her room. He went quiet as he observed her sleep quarters. Amethyst geodes and melting wax candles adorned her wooden shelves. There was a large bookcase as well, though it seemed untouched. Her bed was draped with luxurious, comfortable furs.
“It’s not much, but you can have my room,” Candle smiled, unbothered.
“Where will you sleep? I don’t want to interfere with your lifestyle! What gentleman would do that?” Silver protested, he appreciated it, but it seemed like she was giving everything up for him.
“Gentleman,” she repeated mockingly, a small giggle escaping her lips, “Don’t worry, I’ll figure it out. You are my priority right now.”
Silver Spoon felt weight on his chest and cheeks, his throat tightening, refusing words to leave. He nodded as she helped him onto the bed, getting him comfortable. “There. If you need anything, just holler.” She smiled before turning to leave.
“Candle, wait-“ He choked out quickly. The witch turned back to look at him, even though she was already halfway out the doorway.
“Yes, Silver?” She said with concern, which made the feeling in his chest stronger.
“Thank you.”
Candle smiled, her gaze soft. She looked over his features, before answering, “Mhm, of course.” Her dress flowed behind her as she fully left, closing the oak door behind her.
Silver instantly put his face into his hands. He felt warm, wanted, and weird- yet it wasn’t an unwelcome feeling. It was familiar in some way. Perhaps he felt it as a child? No, that couldn’t be, his parents were never there. The man sighed, trying to release the tightness in his chest. Was it because he was in the presence of a pretty lady that saved him? Preposterous! Women were the last of his worries. His main concern was getting healed and back to the village with Candle. They’d surely love and praise him then, wouldn’t they?
Then why couldn’t he imagine her dead, hanging, body?