Work Text:
Shadows often linger in the periphery of Lilia’s vision; this she has grown to accept, on the basis that they are gone when she turns to face them. And she is glad of it each time. The twisted shapes and figures of the primordial horrors that linger are not made to be witnessed, even by her eyes.
So when a figure lingers, she turns with the expectation of seeing the silhouette vanish, but she’s not the only one who turns.
It strikes her as odd that Rio should see whatever she does. This thought occurs to her mid-ballad, fire licking at the back of her neck. When she looks, though, the figure does not vanish, but neither is it a horror to behold.
You are as beautiful as she remembers. The memory, coupled with your eyes on her, nearly trips her up. But Lilia holds strong through the rest of Lorna’s ballad—even as the burns on her shoulders ache, even as your eyes dart away and meet the curious gaze belonging to Rio, even, even as you watch her with that unerring devotion she had once craved.
When Alice tilts her head back, singing with the full force of her soul, Lilia’s eyes leave you. She watches the curse burn to ash above Alice.
You’re gone when Lilia glances back.
Sharon, human she may have been, was right about one thing—no witch can be expected to traverse the road without rest. So, the coven opts to take turns keeping watch around the little fire they’ve built.
Lilia volunteers for the first watch, restless, feeling the weight of eyes on her still. She should’ve known you wouldn’t stay away long.
Your entrance comes when the rest of the coven has fallen asleep; Jen and Alice on one side of the fire, propped up against the rock they sat upon, Agatha furthest from the fire, back to it, while Rio—if that is her true name—sleeps near enough to lay a hand on her waist. Teen, she assumes, remains in the makeshift bed they made for him.
She sees your shadow at the edge of the clearing, hesitant. Looking over her coven one last time, she stands, and walks to where you wait outside the light.
“What do you want?”
You reach out, a hand on either side of Lilia’s face. She doesn’t shake you off. Yet.
“You’re as beautiful as the day I left.” You murmur.
Lilia’s lip curls, “Are your brutal truths meant to be endearing?”
“No. They’re meant to be nothing more than what they are.”
Against all odds, Lilia has yet to throw off your hold. You run your thumb gently over the curve of her jaw. Everything in you wants to kiss her—has dreamt of it for over a century—but you know it won’t be welcome.
Her curls are frayed and wild around her face in an endearing picture. Mess suits her just as well as refinement; though that could be your bias talking.
“Why are you here?” Lilia asks.
“Because you’re here.” And because your job brought you here, but that’s less romantic.
She seems to sense the omission. Any warmth drains from her expression, her hands removing yours from her person. You miss the closeness immediately.
“A truth and a lie. Which will come next?”
“It wasn’t a lie. I could’ve been anywhere.”
“Then go there. But leave the coven out of this.”
“I have no choice, Lilia.”
Lilia scoffs, “You had a choice when you vanished for a century!”
You close your eyes against the reminder. Hurt flares through you. The ache from years of longing, feeling that veil between you exist so thin, yet being unable to reach through. You hadn’t even been allowed a glimpse.
It was torment. A century should have been easy, but a life without Lilia felt like clawing your way through. If you tell her, will she believe you?
“Please.” You whisper. You’re not sure what you’re asking for.
“Goodnight.”
You hear her walk away, can’t stop yourself from blurting, despite the consequences, “Please, don’t put yourself in harm's way.”
Her jaw is tight, eyes wary. She looks you over as if something about you will give away what you know.
She crosses her arms over her chest. You recognize it as both a way to keep you out and support herself. You ache to be let back in.
“This whole Road is a death wish.”
“Don’t put yourself in more danger than normal.” You say, then, smaller, “I can’t protect you.”
“Are you asking for my sake or your own?”
“Whichever you’ll listen to.”
“Why ask at all?”
You step forward, hands outstretched to take hers, but you stop short, “Because I love you, Lilia.”
The admission makes her flinch. Her eyes water and she swallows hard. For a fleeting moment you see the startling vulnerability behind her eyes—the loneliness you should have quelled—before she locks it away.
“You can’t love.” Lilia sneers, “It would tip the scales too much.”
“That’s not true.” You defend.
“Oh? Then who, in this wretched universe, have you decided to hate?”
You bite your tongue. Lilia takes your silence for its own— incorrect —answer. Bitterness creeps into her smile.
“Goodnight.”
“Here to watch the big show?” Rio asks, lagging behind while the others move forward.
“Just doing my job.”
“Really? I’d say things were pretty square when you showed up.”
You eye her, despising her knowing smile, “Why are you here?”
“My job.”
“Hm. And how many bodies have you collected, again?”
Her smile is wide, but her eyes are cold. She’s always despised that the two of you are equals; that she can’t add you to her menagerie of bodies. Just the same, you’ve despised that you can’t write her name down.
Agatha looks back and tilts her head. You know she can’t see you. Like nothing has happened, Rio turns that grin on Agatha, skipping back to her side.
You catch Lilia’s eyes on you and ignore the question in them.
Lilia watches. She follows you in her periphery, makes note of where you are at all times. Her eyes always dart to your hands. Every time she finds them empty, she relaxes.
She’s taken watch, again. You read the weariness in her posture.
Against your better judgment, you lay your hands on her shoulders. She doesn’t shrug them off.
“You need rest as much as they do, beloved.” You murmur.
She stiffens at the old endearment, “We’re splitting the time. I’ll manage.”
You run a hand through her hair. The curls are still loose, wild. You untangle a few of them. Squeezing her shoulder, you place a kiss to the top of her head, savoring the closeness.
For a moment, your hand quivers. You still it. Your punishment was endured with grace, you must endure the distance with the same.
“Sleep. I’ll watch over you.”
Lilia scoffs, “Right.”
The weight of her mistrust is like a knife in your chest. You do not endure the pain with grace; you flinch, tears springing unbidden to your eyes. Lilia’s eyes close in regret.
You wonder if your presence is more of a burden than blessing. Had you mistaken her intent all those years ago? Love is not an emotion that’d come to you naturally. Perhaps, in your learning, you misunderstood, and Lilia’s kind heart wouldn’t allow her to break your illusion.
She had loved you once, hadn’t she? You could swear she had.
“You have to know I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“Unless the greater universe calls for it.”
Her tone is honest, but sadness lingers within it. All you want is to see her face.
“If I thought it would do you any favors, I’d throw it all away.” You admit in a whisper.
Lilia turns, then. Her brows are furrowed as her eyes search your own, frantic, swimming with fear. In another time and place, you’d follow the statement with a smirk; but you cannot bring yourself to summon the facade now, not with her.
It isn’t a lie—your admission. If not for the overturning of the world without you, you’d forsake the job on your shoulders. You’d unmake yourself in a moment for her. For the younger witch who sang freely and lamented her gifts. For the wizened witch who eyes you with trepidation, mind rife with your betrayals and shortcomings.
“Where are your lies?” She asks.
“I tell them to myself, so you can have all my truths.”
Lilia smiles then, but it’s bittersweet. A warm hand settles on your cheek. You can’t help it—grace be damned—when you press yourself into the contact. They’re still there—the callouses you remember, rough against your flesh. She still smells of smoke.
There’s a rustling of fabric across the space. Alice shifts, sitting up and rubbing at her eyes. Lilia’s touch is gone from you. You settle next to her as she rests, not brave enough to lay another hand upon her.
You watch the knife fall as if time has slowed; absently, you think it might be, Time always did love her cruel jokes. It falls with Teen in the direct path. You feel the pen heavy in your hand, the paper near-weightless and yet the heaviest thing you’ve come to bear.
But then Lilia moves. The one moment you need time to slow for you, it’s returned to normal. Lilia shoves Teen out of the way and takes his place in the dagger’s path.
You fall to your knees, “ No!”
Throwing your arms out, you aim a burst of magic for the dagger. Consequences be damned. Alice is faster, though, and moves Lilia from the dagger’s path before your magic can make contact.
Rio’s eyes are heavy on you. She can’t do anything—you didn’t technically break any rules, but the intent is damning enough.
“Now this is going to be fun.” Rio purrs.
You stare at the pen and blank paper you dropped in your haste to save Lilia. Your purpose. How close you’d come to unmaking yourself and yet… yet, a part of you is ambivalent to this. The larger part is freaking out, though.
Everyone’s eyes are on you. You flinch. They shouldn’t be able to see you.
Checking your mental list of active charms, you realize you’ve made an error; in your grief-induced act of heroism, you dropped every single charm on your person and directed the energy toward Lilia. The cat’s out of the bag, it would seem.
Lilia is the first to recover, moving out of Alice’s protective hold, “Do you ever think?”
You bristle, yet to stand from your kneeling position. It gives her an advantage over you this once.
“Well and often.” You defend.
“Well?” She questions, beautiful in her terror and rage, “You call that thinking well? You could’ve been killed!”
“You were in danger, Lilia.”
“And you’re not allowed to interfere.”
Ignoring all the eyes on the two of you, Lilia turns and storms through the exit that opened. You watch the road-conjured costume melt back into her normal visage as she gets further away.
It’s then that you recognize the silence.
All of them are staring at you save for Agatha, who eyes Rio with a mixture of trepidation and understanding. You stand as gracefully as you can manage. Smoothing down your clothes, you try to smile, but the action feels slippery on your features. How long has it been?
“What is it with you witches and beautiful mysteries?” Jen asks, “And where can I get one?”
You flush and fidget. The weight of their attention is so much less pleasant than your beloved’s.
Alice tilts her head, “Who are you?”
Holding out your hand, you speak your name. Rio laughs. You blush, remembering that mortal creatures don’t comprehend the original language, not like the two of you. Lilia once said it sounded like botched latin. The coven exchanges various looks of confusion.
“Lilia just calls me—”
“A pain.” Lilia’s voice cuts in, “A very severe, persistent pain. Are you all coming?”
You’re the first to follow, which prompts no shortage of grumbling. You find yourself grinning.
“Well, at least we have extra help on The Road.” Jen shrugs, later.
“She can’t help.” Lilia and Rio say in unison.
The two share a look. You can read the distaste in Lilia’s eyes. She doesn’t seem to think much of Rio, not that you do either—and you actually know her.
“Seemed pretty eager to help you, Lilia.”
“A foolish, misguided mistake on her part.”
You flinch at the statement, staring down at your hands. With the charms gone, you witness their true appearance; one completely dark, as if left to char in ember, the other so pale-white it is near translucent.
The beauty of a mortal body with a mortal heart is a range of emotion you’d have never felt before. Though lately, the gift feels more like a burden. Pain is your ever-present companion these days. Even when you look at your beloved, the love that overtakes you is laced with poison; with the reminder of what you had to do.
You can’t bring yourself to wish away the heart in your chest. But you do wish Lilia would be a bit more gentle with it. You’re hardly in the position to make requests, though.
“I can assist in small ways. Taking a watch at night, tending the fire.”
“No.” Lilia shuts you down. You freeze, “You are to do nothing but observe. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, beloved.”
You ignore the look between Alice and Jen.
The end of The Road is so near you can practically taste it. It tastes of rot and chaos, but you put that down as a symptom of your disposition. You watch Lilia and the rest of the coven relax, inhaling deeply.
A smile teases at Lilia’s lips.
“What do you smell?” You whisper.
The smile doesn’t vanish as you expect. Rather, it extends to her eyes as she regards you.
“Your perfume.”
You melt. Knees like jelly, you take her hand in your own, and press a kiss to the back of it, ignoring the eyes on the two of you. The Witches Road will give you what you most desire at the end. And before the last trial, it gives the traveler a taste of what their prize is. She can’t reach the end without knowing the truth.
“This body wasn’t mine, did you know that?” You ask. Her expression shifts as she grows a bit more tense in your hold. You hold tighter, “The witch before me had a little over a century left in her when I came. As payment, I had to serve out the rest of her years without the one thing that made it feel like living.”
The words are tumbling from you faster than you can comprehend them. You watch her face, hoping that what you’re stringing together makes enough sense for her to see. Even if it takes some other force whispering the facts into her ear for her to understand, you’ll just be happy that she knows.
Lilia’s the brightest witch you’ve ever known. She’ll figure out what you’re saying, but you just can’t stop; you need to say the words you’ve been dying to say for all these years.
“I never wanted to leave you, beloved.”
There’s no privacy on this cursed road, but you don’t care. If she asked it of you, you’d tell every soul you met how you love her. Lilia Calderu owns your heart, but even more than that, she owns your soul, and you have no desire to take it from her hands—even if she decides to rip it to pieces as repayment.
Let the coven know how you lived a century-long prison sentence to be with her. Let Rio and the greater powers know. You have no shame.
Lilia sneers, “You foolish woman.”
Her hands fist in the front of your shirt and pull your lips to hers. It’s messy; a clash of teeth and lips and noses, a poor imitation of the world-tipping kisses the two of you have found in one another. You’re both horribly out of practice. Never let it be said, however, that passion does not make up for tact. The near-quivering of Lilia’s grip and the force of intent behind her kiss makes up for any clumsiness.
The time on The Road has left her lips chapped, bitter with the remnants of lipstick, and never before have you known something so utterly perfect. You wrap your arms around her waist and pull her close enough that not a breath can exist between you. She sighs against your lips.
A curse of a mortal body is the functions that a higher being like yourself wouldn’t deem necessary; in this case, the need your lungs have for oxygen. Your heart is beating out of your chest and not from desire.
You pull back, panting, forehead resting against Lilia’s.
Breath successfully acquired, you tilt your head and press your lips to Lilia’s cheek, her temple, her forehead—anywhere you can reach, murmuring, reverent, “Lilia. My Lilia.”
“Darling.” She whispers with every kiss, voice hushed with devotion.
A lifetime apart seen to its end. Your fingers still itch with the pent up desire to hold her despite doing so. You were shameless before, but now… Gods help her.
Rio watches the entire display with shameless interest. Her eyebrows are high, a small, curious smile on her lips. Teen had been the first to turn away and busy himself with watching The Road. Somewhere mid-kiss, the remaining three found something more pressing to devote their attention to.
The lack of seeing, however, does not stop Jen from sighing, “When will it be my turn?”
Alice laughs at her side.
“Did you know all along?”
Lilia looks up at Agatha’s hushed question. She takes in the messy, haggard, but satisfied look of her fellow witch. She also catches the look Agatha throws your way. You sit across the clearing, Teen at your side, listening with rapt attention as you explain something about the moon.
“I had a suspicion when you mentioned my fortune.” Lilia admits.
A suspicion. A burgeoning hope she hadn’t let herself acknowledge.
“Oh?”
“What is fortune if not a lack of balance?” She shrugs, unable to look away from you, “To change it meant the end of my pain.”
“Enter, your solution.”
“Solution and problem.”
The two share a wry laugh. Lilia’s careful not to ask any pointed questions about Rio, though curiosity does eat away at her. Is anyone better suited to appreciate her experience?
Rio, while polarizing, is beautiful—and seems to have attached herself to Agatha in a way best suited to the witch. There is a beauty in it. Though she admits she’ll always prefer your well-meaning brutality over that which Agatha receives. To each their own.
“The Road seems to play favorites, giving you your prize early.” Agatha muses.
“Having her isn’t the prize,” Lilia corrects, “ keeping her is.”
Agatha hums, eyes contemplative.
You’re aware of the eyes on you from across the clearing, but pay it little attention, instead devoting yourself fully to the question Teen has asked you. Gesturing with your hands, you weave similarities between the First Coven and their own. He watches you with a starstruck expression.
Something in your conversation prompts him to tilt his head. He fiddles with the little spellbook attached to his hip. Your musings come to a natural close and he speaks up.
“Can I ask—why Lilia? I mean, she’s great, but I guess I don’t understand.” Teen changes the subject.
You smile.
“Do you know the average person’s response to upsetting the state of the world?” You ask. Teen thinks, then shakes his head, “There isn’t one. It doesn’t matter what they’ve undone in the grand scheme, they’re painfully ignorant of what they’ve done. And what’s worse, most don’t care.”
It’s an old grievance you have with the greater universe. You recognize the necessity of it, but will never deny how it grates on you.
“Lilia… Lilia spent a large part of her life as a harbinger of tragedy. She’d travel through villages and upturn their worlds with a prediction.” You sigh, chest aching with the pain you know she suffered, “But when she did, she always sought to fix it. There were times she leveled the scales so completely that I didn’t have to do a thing. Few had ever considered me in such a way before.”
You look up from your fidgeting hands to Lilia. Her eyes are already on you. The warm, steady weight of her gaze makes you melt.
“And the others, well, none of them were her.”
Teen nods, “That’s sweet. I think.”
You chuckle. In a moment of fondness, you ruffle the curls on his head. He rolls his eyes but allows the contact; how do you tell a force of nature no?
You stare back down The Road with the coven. Though the return journey will be without any of the usual hassles, you curse the greater powers for not just providing an exit door. Your feet are killing you.
Lilia looks weary despite having rested. You rub a hand over her back, working out the knots you find with a skilled hand. She sighs.
“Where do we go from here?” She asks.
You raise a brow, “Back to the start of The Road.”
Lilia glares, though it lacks significant heat, “Us, darling.”
Ah.
“Wherever you lead, beloved.”
“That’s a lot of control.”
“Give me a century or so and I’ll start making decisions again.”
Her fingers lace through your own. Lilia stares down the length of The Road she has traversed and conquered, yet the greatest battle lies beyond. The world will never again be the same for her.
You raise her hand to your lips. You press gentle kisses to the knuckles.
“To the return of your glory.” You murmur.
Lilia looks at you for a long moment. Using your hold, she pulls you down, into a short but mind-numbing kiss. You hold tight and sigh, content.
She corrects, “To the return of balance.”