Chapter Text
As the sun set, Victoria prayed for the fifth time that day. She wished nothing more than to give birth to a healthy baby boy, but with fertility issues with her and her husband, it seemed unlikely. She wished that their God, Stella, would answer her prayers. As she got out of her kneeling position, she looked to her husband.
"If we manage to have this kid you speak of, what would we name him?" Victoria inquired.
"Ernest. After his grandfather." The husband, her loyal and devoted husband, replied.
"Hm." Is all she could get out.
She got comfortable in her bed next to her husband, and slept. Until, of course, that she was awakened by the god she worshiped by her side. A tall brute, seemed to have a cloak of stars, his eyes squinting, with a questioning gaze. She got out of bed, and started worshipping, praying how she would without him there.
"Get up, don't make a fool of yourself," Stella sneered. "To put it simply, you humans should have died a lot sooner than what they are now."
"W-what does that mean?" Victoria questioned, in a whisper.
"You're a faithful follower, tell me, do you think you could do it right? I'll make sure you get pregnant, whether it's via your husband or by other means. I want him done right." Stella informed.
Victoria nodded. She got up, and looked Stella in his stupid eyes. Wait, he can read her thoughts. Not so stupid eyes. However, him reading her mind wasn't the problem. That was never the problem. The problem was that now she promised a god that she would have a baby. Even with her fertility issues. Stella, reading her mind (literally, he is a god, after all), gave her a smug smile.
"Your baby will be fine. Let me just touch your stomach. And you should be able to grow a faithful little follower in there."
"Now hold on, how do I make this perfect follower you speak of?"
"Don't treat him special, but don't make him unloved. Treat him how you would any other child."
"Alright, what else?"
"Just, make sure he's not an asshole. And, if you tell anyone about this interaction, I'll kill you. Only after you have your child."
"...Will I die in labor?"
"Wouldn't you like to know? Don't mess up, and don't break a promise. Your life is on the line."
And just like that, he was gone without a trace. Victoria was speechless. She wanted to tell her husband, to scream, to cry. But instead, she got back in bed and cuddled with her husband
~~~~~~~
She gave birth. She couldn't believe it. Her and her husband were ecstatic! A dirty, covered in blood, baby! He wasn't harmed either. And, she remembered what the God said. No speaking of how she got pregnant. Especially with her fertility issues.
"I'm going to the bathroom in the river." The husband said to the new mother.
"But I haven't washed the baby yet! You'll contaminate the water. Not only for drinking, but for his bath! Find a lake, or something of the like."
"Yeah, yeah..."
Stella, just like the night ten months ago, came down. He smirked. He made sure the husband was gone.
"You've done well. You haven't told a soul." He very aggressively took a piece of star from his cloak. "May I see the baby?"
"He's here..."
"Ew. It's dirty. Never mind. Just, show me his hands."
"Er, alright."
Victoria held up the baby in her arms. Stella smiled softly. He crushed up the star in his hand (rather aggressively) and sprinkled it on the baby's hands. The baby couldn't handle such magic power being placed upon him. Grey clumps grew over his eyes, his face went crooked, and the baby started sobbing.
"Oh, er, that's not supposed to happen." Stella thought out loud.
"No, what happened to his eyes! I must tell my husband, I must!" Victoria said, panicked.
"I told you, no words about your interactions with me! I can't have the other gods know I was fraternizing with mere humans!"
But, like magic, Victoria was gone with the baby, going to find her husband. She checked the river, the well, the piles of trash on the side of the road. She located him at the lake, taking a sh- relieving himself.
"THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG WITH THE BABY! OUR GOD CAME DOWN AND SPRINKLED STAR DUST ON HIM, AND NOW HIS EYES HAVE A COATING!"
"Love, you have to calm down. Start from the beginning."
After a very lengthy and detailed explanation in a not so calm manner, Victoria's husband knew the events from ten months ago to current. He was shocked. He wasn't very religious like his wife, so to learn their God was real was a shock. Though, learning that it harmed his son made him furious. He wanted to curse the gods, all two hundred and three of them, but knowing they were real made him hesitate. He ran back to their house. Once the husband was gone, Stella reappeared yet again.
"Tsk, tsk. I give you a simple command, and you disregard it. I'll let you live till your son's fifth birthday, just to make sure my other rules about him don't get broken. After that, you'll die. Slow and painful." Stella stated, with his god complex. But he is a god, so that would make sense.
"No, please, there has to be something we can do! I don't want to die!"
"I'm afraid not. You disobeyed me. You knew my rules and you ignored them all the same."
"Please! Please! You're great and powerful, I was just concerned about my child."
But Stella disappeared. Victoria knew her fate. Die the day after her son's fifth birthday. She should have never agreed to these terms, should have never had a baby. But now, she had one to look after.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ernest was now three. He could talk a little, walk a little, and help a little. But, Every time he went out to go get something for mommy, he couldn't see. Mommy and Daddy said he had something over his eyes and that was why, but whenever he felt around, all he felt was his face. He could never really see, actually. And every time he successfully made it outside, he couldn't see the stares, but he could feel them. On multiple occasions, he bought the wrong foods, for the wrong prices. Mommy started going with him to the street markets after that. But at least, today was a new day. It was going to be different, he was sure!
"Ernest... I think it's time we get you some facial bandages." Mommy said, looking down at him. At least, he thought so.
"Why do I need those? I'm not bweeding." Ernest retaliated.
"I don't want you getting stared at in the shops anymore. And it's *bleeding*."
"So I am bweeding?!"
"No. I said it's pronounced Bleeding. I want to give you bandages for... Never mind. Let's just go to the shops."
"Yay! Shops!"
They set out. Mommy bought some bandages, or at least, he thought so, due to the texture of them being wrapped around his face. He couldn't see anything, much like before, but now no light was getting in. It was just... dark. It wasn't like this before. He clung to what he thought was his mom, only to be met with a scoff and a push. He found his mommy, they bought food, and went home.
"Mommy, I'm cold!"
"Here, take this. Its a cloak I made."
"It feels like the potato sack bags."
"That's what they're made of."
"Thank you!!"
Stella watched from above. The child he sprinkled Star dust on now had a cloak, just like Stella's. But, Stella's was made of stars, not sacks from potatoes. Two more years, and he would kill off the child's mother. She should have listened. Stupid Victoria, now going to die, just for speaking. Stupid, mortal humans...
~~~
Mommy seemed so stressed today, but Ernest didn't know why. He was turning five, it should be joyous. So then why is mommy so stressed? He treated it like any other day. He went to the shops with mommy, he sat and played with the hay doll mommy made him, and he took a nap. When he woke up, Mommy and Daddy were crying. They were saying what Ernest thought were bad words. And they were all towards this guy named Stella! He thought it was weird, but he wanted mommy to stop crying. He was going to give mommy his hay doll. It always made him feel better, so why wouldn't it help mommy? But, after receiving it, mommy only cried harder. Ernest ran away, back to his room. He didn't want to make mommy cry. He started crying himself, he didn't mean to. He cried himself to sleep that night.
Ernest woke up the next morning. Or, that's what he thought. He got up, got dressed (as good as you can when you're five and can't see), put on the cloak mommy gave him, and went out. Mommy was yelling.
"I'M BLEEDING, I'M BLEEDING!" Mommy cried. Ernest rushed to help her, running into the sound of Mommy's voice, but he ran into something.
"Ernest, to your room!" Daddy yelled. He didn't want him hearing or seeing (despite his blindness) his mother's death.
"But daddy! I don't want to leave mama!"
"TO YOUR ROOM!"
Ernest ran to his room, he was worried about Mommy but he didn't want daddy to yell at him. He hugged the doll mommy gave him, not realizing he'd never hear her voice again.
~~~
Ernest was now eight. He tried to pull his weight, but when you can't see due to cataracts and bandages, its harder. He still farmed and cooked, because mom couldn't do it anymore for... Obvious reasons. Ernest didn't even realize it was it was his birthday. He and dad stopped celebrating after mom died the day after. Speaking of dad, he was distant ever since Mom's death. And when he did say something to Ernest, he was typically insulting him or pointing out an error. Sometimes, he'd say Ernest missed something, when he didn't, but because he couldn't see, he'd do the whole task over again. Ernest misses mom, misses what dad used to be, misses the doll she made him that dad burned when they ran out of fuel for the fire. He still had his cloak. He hugged it when he missed mom. Back to the day, however, he had to get dinner on. The salt only preserves stuff for so long! He ran down to the kitchen, taking the meat from the salt and the fire and cooking it. As he was cooking, he heard footsteps. He figured it was just his father. It was. Very upsetting.
"Ernest, you didn't season the meat right! The salt isn't grinded." His father scolded. But Ernest never put on any salt.
"Yes, I know. Lucky me, I didn't put any on."
The next thing Ernest remembers is a sharp pain and a thud. He caused it. Everything after is a blur. He thinks his father beat him, but Dad denies it. Dad also complained about not getting food that day. Ernest feels bad.
Well, it was the day after his birthday. Mom's death day. He knew to hide from dad. Only go out to cook dinner and cut himself a small portion (his father always knew. He can't see, the portions were never as small as he thinks). Ernest didn't know why he got beat. He just accepted it. He cuddled the cloak, sat by where the fire was. The fire that burned mom's doll. Everything that happened from his memory, when he was five flashed in his mind. He should have ignored his father, got some final moments with mom. Instead, he's here like a failure, cuddling cloth. Just like he did when he was five, he cried himself to sleep that night.
~~
Ernest was now thirteen. Dad got drafted for the war. He didn't think he would return. It was peaceful without dad. No beatings, no scoldings, no pretending to miss tasks. Just shame, guilt and his blind ass. He barely realized it was his birthday since he stopped celebrating at six, but he had felt guilty, and that's how he remembered the date. The day before Mom's death. He felt the familiar feeling of guilt, like he caused his mother's death. Something is telling him he did. If he wasn't born, maybe mom would still be here. Maybe if he just-
There was a knock at the door, it broke his thoughts and concentration. Ernest stopped sweeping the floor, and answered. He knew that smell, that musk. Father was home and he was panicking, from what Ernest could hear. For someone that hurt him, he missed his father.
"They sent me home- for final moments or something. They said they couldn't fix my wound-! Don't move, you'll slip over the blood."
"How'd you last this long?"
"Cloth... Just, ugh..."
Ernest puts his hands on his father's arm, he missed him despite everything. Suddenly, he was slapped. He fell to the floor, and looked up. Who slapped him? He thought his father was the only one home.
"You disgrace! You heal my wound, but you couldn't for your mother's? Out! Out I say! Get out! I will not stand in the presence of someone who could have saved my wife, but didn't because of his selfishness!" His father yelled.
Ernest scrambled out the door with nothing but his cloak, robes, and bandages.
Ernest chose a direction and kept walking, thinking, pondering. He could have healed his mother this whole time? He could have saved so many people. He can heal at all? He had so many questions, none would get answered. He thought of all the people that died from sickness or wounds, including his mother. If he couldn't heal them, he'll heal everyone else to make up for it. And, maybe, if he does that, father will let him come home.
Eventually, Ernest ran into a kingdom. He could tell because he heard guards yelling at him to get away from the castle.
"Oh, my. I'm sorry... I-I can't see. Though, would you mind leading me to the injuries tent?" He stuttered out.
"Why? You want to mooch off our supplies?"
"No! I wish to heal the injured."
"Well, one of our knights were just attacked."
"Let me see them!"
Ernest was lead to the wounded. A small tent, filled with mainly knights. But there was one that stood out. One that looked like him, just...not (Ernest would never know of the similarities and differences between them). They seemed to like him. Ernest ignored it for now, and focused on healing the wounded. These first few helped him figure out a bunch. He couldn't heal bones from just touching the skin, he'd have to rip through, and touch the bone. Don't worry, he'd do it so fast that no blood was lost (for the most part). Also, sickness was hard. What was he to do? Go and touch the bacteria itself? Instead he would touch every part affected by the sickness.
And then, there was... Them. Such an odd person. Like him, just a parallel. They seemed to be evil by the likes of it, too. They were roped to the tent support. They were severely injured, especially where their hands lie at their sides. Ernest felt wrong, touching a man in all of his body. He did like the warmth though... No, Ernest, you mustn't! They are also a man, fool. Ernest stops, the thought of being burned is enough of a deterrent. After he is done healing the unnamed man, he gives him a few gold coins he found on the floor, and wishes them well before leaving.
Ernest got up and walked, listening to the guards chatter.
"How can he see with those bandages on?" One clamored. Ernest would never humor them with the answer. That simply, he didn't. But he could hear breathing and he could feel warmth. He could figure it out.
"Why is he walking in just one direction?"
"Why did he never give a name?"
Ernest kept walking. He knew what he was. A disappointment for his family. Trying to make it up like a desperate beggar. But, he knew one thing, he was going to heal, and heal he will.
As he walked, the guards continued.
"You're right, he never gave a name. What should we call him?"
"He only moves West. Well, from the looks of it and when he came to the castle wall. Maybe the Healer That Only Moves West?"
"Doesn't roll off the tongue... how about Healer of the West?"