Archive of Our Own

Once upon a time there was a beautiful young man whose hair was as radiant as the sun rising at dawn and whose eyes shone like amethyst jewels. His bright red lips could make anyone turn to face him, and his elegant poise and alluring voice commanded utter loyalty and surrender from those who were blessed by his presence. Sharp yet delicate features, with pristine skin devoid of imperfections, he was the epitome of Beauty. And of course, he would be ethereal and breathtaking, impossible to naturally see, for he was the god of Beauty, Vil.

Unlike the other gods, like the god of Death and the god of War, who preferred to stay away from any contact and entertained themselves in their domains, Vil basked in the attention of mortals as he appeared throughout the towns, receiving wistful glances and nervous bows from anyone who rested their eyes on him. As the fairest one of all, it was only natural that everyone would throw themselves in his way, that everyone's breath would halt and their hearts tremble when he was nearby. And sure, he had found himself with many one-timers, men and women who had something that attracted the curiosity of the most beautiful of all.

But never once had his heart been taken, nor was he willing to give it to anyone. The god of Beauty was a dream, a fantasy no one could have. But he was also a secret no one truly understood, whose feelings were hidden behind his perfect image, his smile an alluring mystery that bewitched and begged to be solved, unsuccessfully.

Vil liked basking in the beauty of flowers when he visited a town famous for its relaxing hot springs and booming tourism, full of activities involving the arts, like theater, something he sometimes indulged in. It was a fast-moving town where anyone could easily find interesting people, connecting the north with the south. And he had found a lovely garden with carefully planted trees and flowers, all perfectly taken care of. Its only defect was...

"Are you going to see the next play, your Majesty?" A rude and infuriating voice made Vil frown, its owner a charming young lady approaching close. Her long, brown, messy hair was loosely tied in a ponytail, strands scattered over her dirty face. Her eyes were green like the lush foliage of her garden, but had a mischievous glint, her smile hiding a razor-sharp tongue.

The young maiden, Ann, was the owner of the garden and every now and then she dared to talk casually to Vil as if he wasn't a god and she wasn't covered in mud. She was a rude and improper potato, one who dared to demand he help her in her garden if he wanted some blossoms for his own creations.

Vil would indulge in creating perfumes and makeup, items which enhanced his own beauty and were another way to express himself. In fact, he had taken a hobby of researching blossoms and their beauty-enhancing properties, even if he was already the fairest one of all. He had a personal garden for his devices, for his own amusement, all hidden from the world for only his eyes to see. However, he reluctantly had to admit that somehow the flowers in front of him were far lovelier and more enchanting than his. And so, he desired to use them for his potions and creations.

Anyone would be crying from joy at this greatest honor, to be asked to hand over some blossoms for the fairest of all to use on his person. But the first time he demanded them when they met, the young lady had said, "Sure, you can have some if you help me water them for a couple of days."

This was the first sign that the girl knew not of her place nor seemed to care. Who was she to talk to him like that? She did eventually give him some, but asked for his help, casually talking to him.

"When someone gives you something, shouldn't you at least say thank you?" Instead of groveling on the ground with gratitude, receiving his attention, the young maiden Ann decided to say this instead.

"Ara, are you aware of who I am?"

Vil’s response earned no apologetic or devastated look. Instead, the girl was arrogant and clueless enough to shrug off his reply with a casual unbothered voice. "Yes? And?"

"How rude, what a terrible girl you are," he chided her, growing more offended that he was receiving this treatment when he was a god and she was just a simple girl.

"Yeah, yeah, my bad,” she replied just as unapologetic as she was insolent. “You could be more polite too so we're even. A simple 'Thank you' won't kill you."

And that was how their first meeting went, with the fairest one of all shocked that a simple potato covered in mud had not thrown herself at his feet, and instead demanded an equal treatment.

And so, in spite of his great annoyance at her, somehow Vil found himself often visiting the enchanting garden. It was secluded enough to be devoid of random strangers, which made it an excellent spot for him to enjoy some time alone, reading books he had been curious about. Recently, he had been hearing positive comments on a new popular series, the long crusade of a hated witch and a mysterious outcast to solve the mystery of a dying town. And as he was interested in it, he indulged in some time spent on the book, never mind that Ann would approach him from time to time and ask him his opinion on it, sometimes giving him hers, not that he asked for it.

She usually asked for the book when he was done with it, but for this series, she was very curious from the get-go, possibly a big fan of it, just like some of the younger women Vil had seen reading it. The novel wasn’t a bad read by any means, though his praise was not without some critique. It was a vivid read, as if the writer painted the world with beautiful words, however, at times it would derail and miss its original point.

"You really are brutal," she said, though she didn’t seem surprised by the god’s harsh tongue. “You didn't hold back for me, you're honest to me as always.”

“Why would I even do that?” Vil retorted, confused at her nonsense.

“Thank you,” she just replied.

The god didn't understand, shaking his head as he missed the faint smile on her face.

Sometimes the fairest one of all shared stories of his travels and places he had visited, when he wasn’t chiding the young woman in front of him. Ann liked to listen to him as she tended her garden. The god was haughty and at times he would be nagged into helping somehow even if his mere presence was enough of a gift and his tales were delectable stories that few were privy to. His visits to the frozen north to see the beautiful aurora in the sky, and to the jungle to the south with vibrant flowers and birds that seemed like jewels come to life, as well as his travels throughout many cities, soaking in different cultures and whatever he could find, the many fashions and dresses, Ann listened with great delight.

“It’s not easy for me to travel too far,” she said, a wistful sigh escaping her lips.

“Well, I assume you are very close to your family, and you are taking care of your garden,” Vil remarked. “Travelling requires a lot of time to reach your destination and absorb everything you see.”

“Something like that, yes,” she whispered. “That’s why I like books, they help me reach places I can’t visit myself.”

“While it doesn’t replace the actual experience, it is not a bad compromise. Maybe you will be able to visit one of those cities you were interested in in the future. Who knows, maybe if you’re diligent enough, you’ll be able to arrange a suitable schedule?”

Ann shrugged. “By the way, I notice you are staring too intensely at my blossoms. Are you trying to use them again?”

Vil grumbled, not hiding his offense. The young woman forgot that he was indeed a god and could do what he wished.  “As a matter of fact, yes. I was looking for some blossoms to adorn my hair with, something that would enhance my beauty next time I visit the town up north.”

“Huh,” she hummed playfully, before going to a nearby bush with roses. With some scissors she usually carried, she picked a dozen red and pink rose buds. Vil followed her actions with a quizzical expression, as she wove the buds together with some green strips she made from long leaves into what looked to be a crown.

“Well, what about this?”

Vil arched an eyebrow, as his crown lacked gold accents and gems to add value to it, and how was a makeshift flower gift a suitable thing for a god like him? But he didn’t find himself bold enough to reject such an almost crude gift, indulging her silly whims and wearing it as a test. “We shall see, then. This isn’t too bad, but the question is whether it is fitting for me. The public’s reaction should be our judge and will later tell you the results. I expect a beautiful compensation if it’s not to my standard, fufu.”

The fairest one of all was perfect in appearance, but few would notice that even he had secrets and insecurities that Vil would dismiss because he was above petty human feelings that drove wedges between people. But he couldn't help but scowl when an upcoming actor, a young beautiful boy with deep black hair and earnest brown eyes became the rage in town. A passionate, yet clumsy actor, he quickly won people's hearts with his innocence, though to the god, he was a naive child. He had seen enough of humans and their greed, some even foolish enough to try to use him. But perhaps because Neige was devoid of that cynicism that he captured the hearts of people, even the god of Hunt who would often sing praises of anything beautiful. Rook would naturally comment on Vil's beauty but even he had fallen for Neige's charm, and would recite poems nonstop on his beauty and smile as radiant as the sun.

To make matters worse, Neige had quickly earned the spot as lead in many plays in the most renowned theaters. Vil had often wished to take part in them, but any time he showed interest, everyone on stage apologized profusely for not being good enough for Vil's presence.

Little by little, it began to wear on Vil’s heart, as all he wanted to do was to act, to be seen on the stage, and all that happened was that he began to fade in the background. And one fateful day, Vil saw Neige as lead again in the public amphitheater and his inside contorted in fury, so much, he didn't pay attention to his surroundings and bumped into someone as he left the place. Somehow, the god of Beauty had been replaced by a common boy, so much that his departure wasn't even a cause for people to go after him.

To ease his wounded pride, Vil found himself once more in that beautiful garden, obsessively searching for the loveliest of blossoms. Dyes, perfumes, accessories, anything that accentuated his beauty, that would showcase to anyone that without a doubt he was the fairest one of all. He had been so immersed in his search, that he failed to notice the woman beside him, looking at him curiously, even if she looked tired herself and should be inside instead.

“If you’re looking for the best of my flowers, you will have to take my entire garden and I can’t let you do that, you know?”

Ann’s sudden comment took the god by surprise. Feeling exposed for a moment, his shame turned quickly into a defiant comeback.

“What makes you think I am looking for any of your flowers? I am simply examining them.”

“Well, you flip from one to another, and when you’re about to grab one, another catches your eye and you begin all over again. After being here for so long, you should have seen my blossoms countless of times, so it’s not your first time admiring them.”

Vil huffed, annoyed as the realization that his almost painful actions had been watched for far longer than he wanted anyone to do.

“By the way, you owe me an apology,” she added, taking his silence as an answer. “You were certainly in a hurry to leave the theater, and your strong arms left an impact on poor little me.”

“What are you talking about?” Taken aback, Vil didn’t hide his surprise and confusion when he turned towards her. “Right now is my first time seeing you today.”

“How rude, you didn't even realize I was your punching bag,” Ann sighed melodramatically. “I was about to call you, but you were almost desperate to leave the place that you clearly didn’t spare anyone your mighty attention. Trying to talk to you got me your rejection AND you almost sending me flying.”

Vil stared at her for a moment, finally detecting a red spot on her arm. He tried to recall the event, and he could vaguely remember hitting someone on his way out. However, if he had noticed it was her, he would have just avoided her because the last thing he would have wanted was a snarky reply like the one he was getting now.

“So, are you jealous of that guy?”

Her tone wasn’t accusatory, more like a rhetorical question to confirm her own suspicions, which took Vil by surprise. He had made sure to keep those thoughts to himself, treating Neige decently, as he was an actor through and through, so of course, nobody would pose such a question to him.

“I don't think he's very bright. He seems native and gullible though, I guess that’s what many people like, huh?”

“Ara, aren’t you being rude now?” Vil replied, almost amused, not that her comment on Neige made him feel slightly vindicated.

“You're very beautiful but you can be quite intimidating,” she continued, ignoring the god’s frown at her assessment. “Not only you are beautiful on the outside, but you are analytical and intelligent. When you talk with anyone, they will immediately catch on that you are quite cultured and eloquent. I guess that adds to another layer of pressure when they interact with you.”

“Of course anyone would be intimidated by my presence, rude little girl. It seems you always forget I am a god gracing you with some of my attention,” Vil replied, making his weary smile obvious with an elaborate crossing of his arms, a sign to draw her attention to him, something he often liked to do. For whatever reason, the woman in front of him wouldn’t faint from the excitement of this privilege, she would roll her eyes at him whenever he acted dramatic.

“Please forgive me, oh merciful and melodramatic god for I have dared to give an opinion to you, nevermind you were waiting to hear it.” Ann would sometimes retort at him, because she had no fear and Vil sometimes wanted to smack her. “As I was saying, your intelligence is isolating as it puts people on guard, for you can fake being dumber, but you can never fake being smarter than you are. Those with a higher intellect will notice. But someone dumb is reassuring, you don't need to worry about them judging you or noticing what you lack. It makes you approachable and relatable. Your little rival guy is clearly the latter. Meanwhile, no one wants to look stupid in front of a god.”

The god’s frown deepened, displeased at the answer she gave him, not that it was off, but it was against his pride to hide his intellect. And it seemed she had noticed his sour mood, as she shrugged casually and added, “For what is with I like you better. I think that intelligence of yours is very attractive even if you could be a bit nicer.”

“I don't know why I came here,” Vil huffed, because he wasn’t there to be told off on his attitude, especially since she forgot he was a god and she a mere human. He was tolerating that she wasn’t groveling on his feet.

“How rude to reject some heartfelt reassurance, maybe I should say what's-his-name is better.”

“Don't you dare.” He sent her a threatening glare that had the opposite effect, as she smiled brightly, almost playfully.

“Oh, would you be upset if I did so? I'm flattered.”

The god pinched the young woman’s nose as punishment for her insolence, too busy being annoyed at her teasing that he missed the ill color of her face.

“You look dreadful,” the god said to the young woman as he smacked her head with the book he had finished reading. It was the second one from the popular series everyone was reading. Ann was sitting in her garden next to some yellow anemones, watering can by her feet. She looked out of breath, her pale skin making the dark bags under her eyes more prominent. “Did you even get some rest last night?” Vil huffed annoyed, the last thing he needed was to take care of a woman who acted like a problematic child.

“Sometimes I stay up late writing,” Ann admitted, “But that’s just normal. I just felt a little tired, that’s all.”

“If you are careless, you will catch a cold. Aren’t your parents doctors? Go back to your house for the day, they should have a remedy for you. Summer isn’t a normal time for a cold, but you shouldn’t push your luck.”

“I just wanted to finish the thing I was writing, I lost track of time.”

Vil frowned at her. “This is why you are getting tired, little gremlin.” He pinched her cheek, then glared when he noticed her skin was dry. “You’re not hydrating yourself properly. And here I thought I would invite you to watch a play as a gift for those rose buds. You were right, a crown of them made me look even more enticing as everyone in the next town over kept fawning over me. However…” His eyes narrowed dangerously as he folded his arms, ready to give her an earful. “There’s nothing so important that you should sacrifice your sleep over.”

“I will get plenty of sleep later,” she reassured him, a faint smile on her face, almost ironic. “But, how did you like the book? I’ve heard many opinions on it.”

“I’m almost tempted to not lend you my copy, I can foresee you skipping tonight’s rest and reading until dawn.”

“I promise I won’t stay up reading, I just like hearing your thoughts about it.” She tried to put her most convincing innocent look as she pleaded.

Vil gave her a long look as he considered his next action. On one hand, she looked like she was about to fall at any second, on the other, her face illuminated as she begged and with her condition, she wouldn’t be able to go to the theater anyway. “What a weird girl you are, but if you insist.” Vil sighed dramatically, making Ann roll her eyes. “Do not blame me if you wake up with a sore throat.”

“I will not spoil the story for you, but the author’s skill has improved since their first book. They still ramble at times, unfortunately, although it is less frequent now. I have noticed, however, that some of their prose is not as detailed, usually when recounting less common natural phenomena or some machinery, as if they have heard it from someone else, rather than seeing it themselves. Perhaps travelling to expand their horizons is in order?”

“You’re as brutal as always,” she replied. “I wonder if they can’t easily go anywhere.”

“Well, it is something they should consider. Though perhaps they are busy writing right now, as the book does end in a cliffhanger. It is rather annoying having to wait, but I can’t deny that their tactic worked. I’ll be waiting for the next entry.” Vil smacked her head with the book once more before leaving it in her hands. “Perhaps this will finally satiate your curiosity? Now, you better rest well, otherwise I’ll be forced to find a punishment fitting for an unruly gremlin.”

Ann chuckled weakly as she held carefully the book in her hands, and only when the god had left, she let out a long, drawn sigh.

The god of Beauty had been in a good mood as he strolled around the theaters until he saw a commotion around one of the most popular theaters in town. Apparently, a casting call had been made for a new play and the onlookers were speculating what it was about and who would participate. He was surprised to hear a few mentioning the book series about the witch and the outcast, but considering its sudden popularity, it wouldn’t be a bad choice, if only limited by the fact that it was still unfinished. However, instead of his name suggested for the male lead, he found everyone universally agreeing that Neige should be picked, freezing him in the spot.

No one in their right mind would even suggest the little pickle as a lead that demanded enormous acting skills, but it seemed that their love and admiration for the newcomer had become an obsession, erasing the perfect choice from their minds.

Not only that, when one of the rude philistines finally noticed Vil’s presence, he had the gall to ask him, “Neige would be a perfect choice for the lead, wouldn’t you agree?”

Spitting at his face would have been a less outrageously blasphemous action, but the god was above petty feelings even if his blood was boiling and his insides twisted in disgust. He managed to casually agree, even if poison poured from every syllable, and immediately removed himself from the crowd.

Before he knew it, he had reached the familiar garden, though looking at the blossoms in that moment provided no comfort, as his mind kept repeating those damned words from that ignorant buffoon.

“Are you alright?” Ann’s voice interrupted his thoughts. She looked worse than before, but he spared her appearance no thought, groaning in displeasure at her intrusion.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he spat.

“I’m sorry for asking,” she trod carefully. “I’ve never seen you so upset.”

“What a ridiculous notion, as if whatever your ilk does could affect me. Even if you are all so blissfully ignorant on how to treat a god, suggesting a common bumpkin over me.”

“I’m not sure I follow…”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” he snarled, looking at her with misplaced disdain, punishing her for the words of others. “Everyone is raving over that silly nonsense, harping on him being the next lead in a future play on that book series.” Venom in every word, Vil’s face contorted in disgust as just saying everything out loud brought back the unpleasantness of it all, of every time he had been insulted.

“This is the first time I’ve heard of it…” Ann glanced at Vil, worry over her face, a fact that somehow made him more irritated. “If it bothers you that much…”

“I am absolutely not bothered!” he snarked, and she frowned back at him.

“Well, excuse me, it doesn’t look like it! But I mean, if you really want to participate, couldn’t you just ask?”

Vil stared at her for a second, flabbergasted at her gall. She expected him to lower himself?

“That Neige guy doesn’t look like a fit for the main character, but you could ask-”

Vil’s lips quivered in anger as his expression hardened. “What are you even suggesting?” he asked in a dead tone, hiding a cold fury.

“To ask to be in, you really want to be on the stage! Is it that insane?” The young woman looked extremely frail in that moment, but her gaze didn’t falter when it met his. “You’re clearly jealous of him, of him being asked to participate all the time and getting all the attention. Is it so hard to ask? Or to even make your own play?”

Such was her force, getting so riled up that a barrage of coughs interrupted her. But it didn’t quell his anger. Who was she to think she knew him? That she knew of his feelings? That his feelings were those of petty human feelings when he was a god? Did she even dare to judge him? Was she even pitying him for feeling pushed away by that vermin? How could she even pretend to understand him?

But no matter how much he refused, her words had managed to strike a chord so hard that something inside him broke, the pain of humiliation washing over him in an instant.

“Who do you think you are, you simple mortal? Are you so haughty to believe that just because I spend time in your garden that you can somehow understand me?”

Ann had managed to stop coughing, but found herself slapped by his words oozing venom and hate, frozen in place. “I just…I thought you wanted some comfort…!”

But Vil didn’t stop.

“Comfort? Do not insult me, why would I even come for you for that? Because I come here sometimes? Who would even dare to enjoy their time with a nosy girl who doesn't know her place? A simple gardening girl with silly opinions who doesn't know anything? Who cannot even fathom and is too dim to respect a god like myself?!”

He knew he was out of line, she hadn’t even suggested the same as everyone else, but his pride had been wounded deeply, and like a beast in pain, he retaliated.

Ann stared at him quietly, receiving his unfair and unwarranted lashings, her face deadly pale and breathing so shallow she could faint at any moment, but he didn’t care. “Don’t even think we’re equals, human, and that you understand me. Don’t even dare to think that someone like myself is jealous of someone of your brethren. And don’t think I will ever set foot here again.” And without a single glance at her, he left, not sparing one moment to see the frail young woman who remained in that same spot, stoically standing for doing nothing wrong.

The god of Beauty hid himself in a secret spring no other soul was privy to, where his beautiful blossoms would be grown, not that seeing them would help him in the slightest in that moment, as they brought back to his mind the young maiden in that garden.

To soothe his mind and wounded heart, he submerged himself in the pristine water, the coolness grounding him and calming his racing thoughts for a moment until he saw his reflection on the water. His own amethyst eyes, once more brilliant than stars, had been dulled by jealousy, his gaze hardened and loss of his shine. The stress of it all reflected on his skin and hair, but also, his feelings somehow clung onto him, like a layer of dust and dirt he couldn’t remove. He was a god, above all humans and thought himself to be better, but…he was truly not above the humans with petty squabbles, for he had had his own.

He laughed bitterly, the young maiden had been right all along and had seen through him, and somehow, she had tried to help him, even after his ugliness had been brought out for her to see. She had been the only one who noticed his hideous heart and feelings, yet she didn’t judge him. And for all her troubles, he had thrown at her the most venomous and spiteful things he could have said, even worse when she deserved none of them. She hadn’t even tried to fight back, and instead, kept her dignity despite the glimmers of tears in the corner of her eye, taking his ill-aimed grievances with the grace he wished he had.

He washed his face with the water, but the dirt of shame and guilt remained. He told her he wouldn’t see her again, but deep down he knew he didn’t mean those words, only brought out of anger…and his own frustration at himself. He truly wanted some kind of comfort, as pathetic as it sounded for someone like him to be hoping for it from someone, especially a human. In hindsight, him looking down on them was laughable, as he enjoyed their admiration and was distraught when someone other than him got it, a human no less. Was he truly above others when he desperately wanted some sort of approval and praise? Perhaps he was a god because he embodied the feelings of the beings he resembled the most.

His sight trailed to the flowers he grew which couldn’t match hers. A sour smile on his lips formed, perhaps he had lacked something in growing them as well, he no longer knew. Perhaps they matched his own wickedness, especially with how he had treated her.

The god of Beauty knew he had to apologize, to right his wrong, even if it meant receiving lashings from her which would be unsurprising and frankly warranted. He had to make amends with her, and so he went back to the garden, after hours of contemplating what he could even say and how to react should she want to never see him again after his childish tantrum.

But when he arrived at the garden, for the first time ever he saw it desolate, an unpleasant otherness in the air. Every blossom seemed in pain, the air unnaturally heavy and quiet. It was odd not to see Ann tending her flowers, and the atmosphere did nothing to quell a growing anxious feeling in his heart.

He knew her house was nearby, so he went to try and talk to her. It might be an intrusion, but he needed to apologize, and to see she was fine to dissipate his worries. But as he walked down the entrance, a large number of people passed by, cladded in muted clothes. Their cheeks stained with tears filled his heart with dread, as he hastened his place.

When Vil entered her house, he was greeted with an interior full of flowers, a casket in the center of the main room overflowing with them, and the person he was looking for lay inside it peacefully. Anyone could have mistaken Ann for a sleeping princess, her ghastly glow hidden by the candles lighting up the room. Her mother and father clung to each other next to her casket, filling the air with heartbreaking cries, having lost their beloved daughter. A young man was taking care of things, barely keeping himself together as he received the visitors’ condolences. He was most likely her older brother he had heard about in the past.

Visitors made a path for him, as Vil reached the coffin, gaze locked on the sleeping maiden’s peaceful yet ghastly visage in front of him. He hoped she would suddenly yell at him, “Haha, got you!” and laugh her heart out, but instead her chest never rose again and everything in that casket laid perfectly immobile.

She was gone.

He placed a hand on her cheek, as if he was seeing the concept of death for the first time even though it wasn't the case. All that he got in return was coldness which made his heart tremble, her cheek devoid of any warmth, any sign of life, as expected for a corpse, and something inside him was torn.

Some people mumbled that it was strange to see the god of Beauty, standing without reaction next to the maiden. But for Vil, whose senses were numb as the image of Ann in a casket burned into his mind, it was as if time had frozen, the world having lost meaning. He stared in silence at her, but to any astute viewer, he was in shock, in a nightmare that he couldn't wake from.

People came and left, but the god remained for who knows how long, until he was approached by her brother, who greeted Vil with a solemn bow.

“Thank you for indulging in my sister's whims, merciful God,” he said, his voice shaking. “You made her last months of life special. Every day she spent with you, she would come back with a bright smile that not even her illness could erase.”

Vil froze. “Her...illness...”

“She left this for you.” Ann’s brother handed the god a letter with another bow. “Please, forgive her insolence if she had a request for you. But we would be eternally indebted to you if you were so kind to indulge her last wish.”

Vil’s hands trembled as he opened the letter, imagining her voice as he read words barely visible, written from a weakened hand.

Dearest Vil, the fairest one of all,

I’m sorry for keeping this from you and that you might find out when you see me dead.

For years, long before we met, I fell ill and was never able to recover. Consumption, as it’s called, has no cure that we know of, and I’ve long accepted my end. This is probably something you’ve seen often, given all the things you’ve seen on your travels.

Thank you, Vil, for talking to me, for visiting often even if I was a pain. For our talks and discussions, for you trying to get free flowers for your perfumes and using my babies in them. For telling me things as they are, for chiding and humoring me, for not once looking at me with pity. I love my parents and my brother, and I'm grateful for their love through all this time but sometimes the way they looked at me, the things they didn't say...even if they didn't mean to, they reminded me of the burden I had become and of my eventual fate. But, when I was with you, I could almost forget my illness and just be myself. I could become just a normal girl for the briefest of times.

I do have many regrets, though I think every human dies with them, but I am glad we met.

I'm sorry this was the only way I dared to tell you this, because I didn't want you to change the way you treated me, just because I was a poor sick dying girl. Not that you would, but that possibility terrified me regardless and I wouldn’t be able to face a pitiful expression from you on my behalf.

My last wish is for you to pick the spot in my garden where my remains will lay, hopefully a pretty spot where in years my body will become beautiful flowers to adorn the view. Maybe they'll be enchanting enough for you to use them in your next creation.

With love and eternal gratitude,

Ann

Her words cut through the god's heart and the world fell silent.

He could no longer understand anything, people's mumbles so far away, unintelligible, the letter crushed unconsciously between his hands, as he stood there unmoving, just staring at the sleeping maiden for an eternity. A sea of people came and went, and only when the candles lightening her slumber had faded away, her parents and brother sitting nearby overcome by exhaustion, did Vil finally seem to be out of his daze.

The god Vil carried the maiden, oh so gently and delicately to not cause her any harm, a stoic expression hiding the torment in his eyes. The well-behaved sleeping girl lay securely in his arms, as he walked quietly to the garden, his strength waning and water clouding his vision with each step. When he reached an empty spot in her beloved garden, he let himself fall to his knees, as he embraced her tightly, a sorrowful wail breaking the silence. Like gentle mournful rain covering her cold face, he finally let his tears free.

Vil wept for three days and nights straight, not once releasing the hold on the young woman who could no longer hear him. From his tears falling on the ground bloomed gorgeous flowers, pink, purple and blue blossoms all abundant in large pompom flowerheads, a kind never seen before. The flowery pink, purple, and blue surrounded him and the delicate, yet immobile body of the maiden, one he had been cradling all this time, petals falling on her covering her in a beautiful colorful blanket.

It was when Vil realized his true feelings that he had refused to acknowledge, for his heart ached deeply for the young woman, fully captivated by her being but equally terrified of her rejection.

The deep love he had for her was so profound, so much that her absence tore his soul. But his pride prevented him from acting out on those feelings, in fear of rejection, and so…

Instead of being honest and forward, he would nitpick on her and chide her. Instead of holding her close, he pushed her away when he wanted her support and comfort the most.

He looked at her pale skin, her eyes would no longer have that shine in them, he wouldn't look at them nor would they see him. Her body lacked the warmth he desperately craved for. Her lips wouldn't utter his name, make a snarky remark, nor let out a laugh. He would never talk to her, discuss the most recent book or spend time in her garden. He hadn’t even taken her out to that play, she hadn’t seen him on stage.

The flowers were blue, the deep regret of not having accepted his feelings and better spent his time with her.

Purple because he had wished for her to know him, for him to know her better, the understanding and acceptance he had long craved for.

Pink to showcase his deep love that he had refused to acknowledge and act upon.

As he cradled her lifeless body, and colorful petals covered her, the deep grief and regret wouldn't leave him. His heart ached terribly, something he had never felt before, losing a vital part of himself, her absence leaving a huge void in his soul, tearing him inside.

The remorse of having been most cruel to her before she passed, that the last thing she took from him was his stupid spite and misaimed anger, hurting her feelings when she had done nothing to deserve that.

Blossoms kept flowing from his eyes, the pain never stopping nor waning. The god wouldn’t let go, no matter that the sun disappeared and his own skin had become cold under the lone moonlight. He couldn’t stop holding her now, even if it was pointless and his voice wouldn’t reach him.

Until he decided he couldn't let things go like this.

Art by theobro

The god of Beauty Vil, holding the body of his beloved, flew with his magnificent chariot pulled by beautiful peacocks to the corners of the world, to a hidden place underground where the god of Death Idia resided.

He knew it was impossible, but he couldn’t give up, he would try anything to bring his beloved Ann back. So he would impose himself and try to bargain anything just for the possibility. Such was his brilliance that his mere presence lit up Idia’s room, making the shut-in god sitting on a throne fall to the floor, dropping the book he was reading.

“Eeeep! Why are you here?” Idia tried to muster, his voice quiet and trembling.

“I have come to recover someone,” Vil replied.

“Y-you know you can't do that, right?” Idia mumbled, grumbling under his breath. He got up and hurried to pick his book, immediately hiding behind his throne, to shield himself from Vil’s light and his intimidating gaze.

“I know, but I can't let this woman go.”

Idia finally noticed the person Vil was holding in his arms and surprisingly, jumped out of his hiding spot and huffed annoyed.

“Eeeek! You’re the reason of my pain!”

“Excuse me?” Vil snarled, offended.

“Don’t try to pull my leg! Your little friend was the author of Tetramystica. You know, the smashing mega-hit fantasy and mystery novel!? She was about to die soon, but if she kept her pace, and with two all-nighters she would have finished her book and then die, but you just had to make her upset and worsened her condition too fast! Now I won’t be able to know what happens next because she’s dead!”

“She what…?” Vil mumbled, looking incredulously at Ann’s sleeping face. That wasn’t possible, she hadn’t told him before.

“Yes!!! How dare you dust her before she finished her book!”

Vil ignored the childish outburst of Idia, but he couldn’t ignore the pang of guilt his words stirred in him, his actions affecting Ann so much that she… He recalled her saying she was writing something days before, he had imagined it was a diary, not the book he was also reading… Was it why she insisted on hearing his opinion?

“Now I won’t know what happens next! I’ve been re-reading it, hoping to find clues! I’m so desperate to know that maybe I can use something to predict how she would write the final one? But it’s not from her, so it isn’t so reliable…”

This was a development Vil couldn’t have foreseen, but he would be stupid not to take this chance.

“In that case, you should bring her back,” Vil replied as a matter of fact, a sense of urgency in his voice, hoping that the god of Death would catch a hint.

Idia shut his eyes and paced around conflicted. “Nghhhhh I can’t do that but...nnnnnghhhhhh, I want to know how the story ends and only the author knows…”

“Then?”

“Agh! Fine then, you win! Go find her soul on that river over there and get her writing!” Idia blurted out, pointing at a large river where many souls were floating. “Just be careful, they are grabby.”

Vil groaned, the god of Death was useless, but at least he had allowed Vil to bring Ann back. Placing her body close to the river’s border, Vil did not hesitate to immerse himself in the water, ignoring the chilling feeling of death as the waves hit his body. The souls of others tried to get hold of him, but he just continued his dive, having found hers. He pulled her from the current, her soul was so light and delicate that he cradled her with most tenderness.

Golden light bathed Ann's body as her soul fused with her body once more. With a loud gasp, she opened her eyes and held her hand over her face, looking around in confusion. But she couldn't utter any word, as Vil pulled her close, arms wrapping her tightly, not letting go, as tears rolled down his cheeks, mumbling many apologies and hushed words of relief.

“Eugh, could you leave that sappy reunion for later? You're making me cringe,” Idia interrupted them, rolling his eyes, not hiding his disgusted scowl. “Finish the story before you come back here. Now go, go, you don't have much time left anyway.”

And as on cue, Ann began coughing violently, needing to pull away as bloody sputum came from her mouth.

“We're delaying the inevitable,” Vil mentioned.

“Yeah, I only agreed because I want that finished story, you can't leave an otaku hanging like that. Cliffhangers suck, and even more when the author dies! But it's not like her body recovered, you got some time, but she'll end up back here. Shoo shoo, go back to writing that ending.”

Vil shot a death glare at Idia, before focusing on his beloved. Breathless, cold sweat fell from her face as the coughing attack finally stopped. He could only imagine how many times she had gone through this and not once he had noticed something amiss. On hindsight, he should have, her condition worsened with each visit and at times she had been too weak. He had been so caught up in himself that he never saw her life sipping away.

Ann cleared her throat, feeling the god’s gaze on her, and pretended to be strong to stand up, but her frail body shook violently, that simple action leaving her breathless. But at no point did her body touch the ground, for Vil caught her before anything and helped her out of the god of Death’s realm.

Despite her protests, the god of Beauty carried his revived lover, the same way a man would carry his spouse. It was clear her body had weakened a long time ago, her grip on him hardly stronger than her lifeless body from before. This was proof of the words from the god of Death.

However, this only strengthened Vil's resolve.

When they were alone, as the peacock carriage flew across the sky, they finally spoke.

“I can sit fine, Vil. You'll tire from carrying me home.” There was no response, so she continued. “Thank you for everything. Though I wish you hadn't seen me like this...but...at least I can properly say goodbye to you and to my family.”

His grip on her tightened. He didn't put her down on the seat. Instead, he took a deep breath and looked at her in the eye, a solemn expression on his face as he uttered words he never imagined saying before, “I'm sorry.”

They were clear and loud, not spoken through clenched teeth nor mumbled in a hurry. It was an open admission of his guilt and his own ugliness.

“I'm sorry for everything.”

Ann looked at him so surprised, she didn’t know how to react. She hurried to say, “There's nothing to apologize fo-”

“My last words to you were full of venom,” the god interrupted her. She was wrong in that regard. She deserved an apology. “I unleashed horrible words you didn't deserve, vile and hideous, hateful yet filled with shame for myself.”

She lowered her head, as much as she tried to hide that, it was obvious that his words had hurt her deeply.

“All because I couldn’t bring myself to admit an unsightly side of me that you had noticed, but I refused to acknowledge. My pride and fear stopped me, because I am a god, yet I seem to struggle with the same emotions of the people I looked down on.” He let out a wry chuckle. “Makes me realize I’m not as perfect as I thought I was.”

“Your final words are no longer poisonous,” Ann said calmly after some moments of silence. She had a faint smile on her face, she had accepted his apology.

“Stop.”

“I didn't want you to pity me. I'm glad you treated me like a normal person.”

“Stop talking as if you're dead.”

“I will be soon.”

“I refuse to accept it.”

Tears filled her eyes, the conviction the god showed in his voice hurt more than he could imagine. “I've... come to terms long ago.” Still, she couldn’t show herself so weak, holding them back desperately such that her sight was blurred. Her voice trembled as she tried to keep it as calm and serene as possible. “We have tried everything. All treatments, all mixtures we could get our hands on. We could find so many cures, but none worked on me.”

Realization hit the god of Beauty. “That's why you had that garden...”

Ann nodded, smiling sadly, her eyes full of tears she refused to shed. “I like flowers...but the medicine for my illness was never there. I tried as much as I could, but my fate is sealed.”

“That's not certain, you stubborn girl!” Vil raised his voice, not out of anger, but passion and determination. “Even if I have to come every day to Idia's place to bring you back... Until we find the cure, I will never stop.”

She shook her head, “Please, don't waste your time with me...You can find someone else, there are many who love you so...!” She pleaded, covering her ashen face with her frail hands because she couldn’t handle it anymore.

“I don't want anyone else! I love you!”

His words stopped her, her lip trembled as it morphed into a frown and the tears began rolling in her eyes. She finally let herself crumble, the weight of her disease finally shown to him for the first time. “........It would be easier...I would be able to die peacefully without wondering what could have been.” The many possibilities that she had to throw away, her dreams and wishes that were destroyed. She had tried to live her life fully within the constraints of her disease. Yet, she still yearned for things, and didn’t want to have a glimpse of them only to have to give them up.

However, this wouldn’t deter the god whose grip on her became stronger, as he declared, “I will not leave you.” Then, he pulled her close to him and placed his lips on hers, freezing her on the spot. The kiss of a god. The young woman wept as she returned his affection because she knew she would no longer be able to live without this, yet she didn't want to bind him to her like this either.

“Please...I'll tie you down.”

Her greatest fear was that the one she loved would be burdened by her, just as she had done to her beloved family. That she would be seen with pity as she slowly wasted away, and he’d come to resent her for staying by her side.

But it was as if he read her thoughts, for he said, “I am here of my own choice.”

“Please...”

Vil placed a kiss on her forehead, then on her lips. “Darling, you silly girl. I went to the Underworld just for you. Do you think I'll give up on you?”

His gentle words broke her down, as she began sobbing, holding on with as much strength as she had, mumbling her words of gratitude and apologies. The god of Beauty sighed, she was stubborn indeed, but he held her to his chest, his gaze on her as he prepared himself for what would come.

It was a surprise to her family when the god of Beauty Vil entered their home with their living daughter in his arms. But their reunion couldn’t be celebrated, as it was imperative for them to help her, death creeping on her with every passing minute. It seemed her passing had allowed the disease to halt, perhaps the source of her illness couldn’t feed on her in those moments and was succumbing as well. However, she was in such a weakened state that her body couldn’t fight back. Thus, she was properly cleaned with the purest water that Vil asked the god of Hunt Rook to bring and immediately nourished with a myriad of foods that he could procure.

The god was picky and hated asking favors, so he instead dealt exchanges with the god of Order Riddle for the finest teas of his region, the best of meat the god of War Leona would only eat and even the rare extracts of the fish from the bottom of the sea courtesy of the god of the Ocean Azul.

Vil was also incredibly hard on himself and others, and even his beloved was not exempt from his strict diet and regime. She could frown all she wanted, but he made sure she would eat foods she found unpleasant, such as cod liver oil, turmeric milk and raw garlic which had become part of her additional treatment, on top of the nutritious brews he had prepared. He even had her eat skunk meat as they had heard of its healing properties. He accepted no complaints about the grassy textures of the beverages made of fruits and plants he also prepared, his own secret recipes that would revitalize him.

Not only did he make sure she finished her meals, but that she had enough rest and drank enough water, so she was as rested and hydrated as possible every single day. To reward her and encourage her, he at times bribed her with chocolate, a food she was fond of, but ’couldn't easily afford. In fact, her family was already eternally grateful to Vil, they were aware that the entire treatment her daughter was receiving would be impossible for them to acquire on their own, even if their land was well connected. Together they combined the expertise of her parents in medicine, as well as Vil’s own knowledge of foreign plants to prepare brews and beverages that could be the cure.

The young woman would whine about Vil’s strictness, but she obeyed him nonetheless. Her whining was more of a way to keep their banter as before, she was grateful for everything he did for her. The hardest thing for her was halting her writing, as she felt the need to write the ending for the exchange with the god of Death, but she would then become so engrossed that she would lose track of the time. Her health was more important, but it was difficult for her to not do something.

When she gained some weight and her complexion had improved slightly, Vil and her family tried any recipes and newer brews they had heard of while she resumed her writing, intending to fulfill the agreement they had with the god of Death. Books and scripts, flowers and herbs from foreign lands, and the hours spent studying, researching, and preparing meals, ointments, and syrups quickly added up. Not all plants could be of use, some were discovered to be poisonous and they wouldn’t risk exposing her to toxins. Some had side effects which affected her greatly, causing her to throw up, end up in great pain or even faint. Many of the treatments left no trace, for they had failed to do anything to her disease. But some of them harmed Ann in such a way that she would spend the next days recovering in her bed, undoing any little improvement to her condition.

It was disheartening and while she tried her best to be positive, the number of failures started to affect her heart. She didn’t want to put everyone through more suffering, to see their disappointed faces when her condition hadn’t improved. Still, she couldn’t express herself for fear of hurting them, it felt like a spit in the face of their efforts, yet she could feel her heart fill like a vase with fear and despair and it was ready to overflow.

So one day, when she had gained enough strength to be on her feet, when everyone was asleep, she snuck out from her bedroom and went outside. Walking was difficult, her legs threatened so many times to give up, the movements would leave her short of breath so quickly that she had to stop to recover. Sharp movements would make her dizzy, so that she needed to cling to the nearest object until her world stopped spinning. Even so, she refused to go back. It had been so long since she had stepped outside and seen her garden, out of fear she would catch some infection that would worsen her condition. But she missed her garden, the smell of the flowers, the feeling of the sun and wind on her skin.

It was almost dawn when she finally reached it, she was covered in sweat and felt like she could fall to the ground at any point. The cold air, even when she had brought something warm to shield herself from the night’s breeze, seemed to hurt her lungs. Her body trembled with each step, yet she didn’t stop.

The gentle sunrays illuminated the horizon, and she could see her lovely garden, as beautiful as always, vibrant flowers wherever she set her gaze, radiant as she remembered them. Vil, her brother, and even the god of Hunt had taken care of them in her stead. That was when something caught her eye, as if signaled by the sun. In the middle of her garden were colorful shrubs full of blossoms, pink, purple and blue. Their flowerheads were covered in countless four-petal arrangements, as if it was a small mountain of flowers.

She walked with difficulty to admire them closely, though the sight of them made her forget her pain, even when she fell to her knees. Hot tears began to fall from her eyes. She could no longer hold in her feelings, they flowed nonstop as the flowers gave her a sense of nonjudgmental company, a quiet warm embrace to soothe her heavy heart.

She lost track of time as she cried her heart out, until the sounds of hurried steps became louder. Next thing she knew, she was being flipped on the forehead then embraced tightly.

“You silly girl,” Vil reprimanded her. “What did you think you were doing, leaving in the middle of the night? Do you have any idea of the scare you gave us all?! The nights have been cold as of late, what if you caught an infection?”

Ann lowered her head, she hadn’t meant to stay out so long. But the god lifted her chin with a finger, and as soon as his eyes were on her face, trails of tears still visible, his angry frown softened, though it didn’t disappear.

She quickly wiped her face with her sleeve, but the damage had already been done.

“You’ve been crying,” the god said, his observation making her wince.

“I-I just wanted some fresh air…” she began, not sounding convincing. “I-I didn’t expect the cold air…”

Vil let out a long sigh, and surprised her by sitting on the ground. Then, he moved her bangs from her face and stared at her directly. “Did you think I would reprimand you if you told me your feelings?”

“I…” Ann began though her voice wavered. Vil tucked a hair strand behind her ear as a way to reassure her. “…I didn’t want to make you feel like I’m not grateful for everything you’ve done for me… but…” She lowered her eyes. “It’s frustrating… no matter how hard everyone is trying, I can’t recover.”

Vil poked her forehead. “You’re mistaken if you think this is somehow your fault. However…” Vil pulled her lips as a reprimand. “You should have been forward with me about your concerns. Your mood does impact your recovery. Those feelings will fester on your heart and cause you unnecessary stress.”

Ann nodded slowly, she couldn’t exactly refute the god’s words. “I feel lighter now at least…”

“After giving us a scare, you silly girl,” Vil said with a sigh. “Though it is true you look much better than before. You better talk things out before you let them cloud your thoughts and make you feel miserable, understood?”

The god stood up, and to his surprise, Ann managed to stand up with less difficulty than before. Her complexion seemed better under that light, especially when he carried her close. However, when they reached her bedroom, she had that ghostly tone that made the god wonder if he was imagining things for a moment.

It seemed like Ann’s little escapade had not affected her as much as everyone had worried. She hadn’t caught a cold despite the chill weather of the night, and for a couple of days her coughing wasn’t as strenuous as before, even enabling her to write more of the story. Ann figured it was because she wasn’t holding those feelings anymore, but it would probably be just a matter of days.

To her surprise, on a warm sunny day Vil carried her to her garden, a comfortable chair already prepared next to the blossoms to which Vil had given their name. They were named hydrangeas, as they had become the containers of the tears of a god. It had been unexpected, as she wasn’t feeling well from the latest remedy they had tried and felt exhausted, her body aching from the side effects of it. She couldn’t even enjoy the view, as she had fallen asleep in her chair the entire time she had been out. It was slightly disappointing, she couldn’t go outside so often and then she slept through the one time she did. However, she had woken up feeling refreshed, the negative effects of the medicine having worn off.

After this, whenever something was too strong for her body, the way they agreed to handle it was taking her to her garden. Ann had been captivated by the flowers, and her mood improved whenever she was around them. This detail hadn’t gone unnoticed by the meticulous god.

“You look better when you're near these flowers,” Vil denoted with interest.

Ann touched some of the purple blossoms, that shade being her favorite color. “Looking at them calms me down. I feel reassured when I'm with them.”

Vil held his beloved close, as she gently traced the outline of the hydrangeas, and let out a wry chuckle. “Well, they would be in fact a gift, representing my love for you. It would offend me if they did not move your heart.”

“Ignoring the fact that I had to, you know, die,” Ann replied with a weak laugh, she had no ill-intention with her words, even if they made the god frown, “I’m very grateful for this lovely gift. They are my new favorite flower.” She held one of the blossoms between her fingers, a soft smile drawn on her lips.

“They better be, they represent us,” Vil stated in a haughty, alluring voice.

“Aren’t you so proud of yourself? After all, you brought this to the world.”

“Ara ara,” Vil poked Ann’s forehead gently. “Of course I am. This is a beautiful blossom for a beautiful couple.”

Vil let her enjoy the warm sun as he quietly observed his beloved, his mind crafting a plan that he soon would test.

Some time later, the god brought his beloved to her garden, where he had arranged a small table with a tea pot and cups. Ann noticed an unusual smell, different from the many, many teas she had taken. She looked at the poured liquid curiously, it looked the same as any normal tea.

“Make sure to take it while it’s warm,” the god chided her.

“What kind of tea is this?” she asked.

“Well, it’s made from the roots and leaves of your beloved flower.” This caused the maiden to arch her eyebrows. “Your condition improves whenever you’re near them, perhaps they’ll help you heal if you ingest them.”

She took a small sip, cautiously, then furrowed her brow in confusion. “Usually your teas are very bitter, but this one is sweet… That’s almost funny given how you created the blossoms.”

Vil huffed offended and urged her to drink it all. She took three cups, but at the end of the last one, a sharp pain in her chest made her bend forward, leaving her breathless. It had been so sudden, and before she could even say anything, she began coughing violently, her lungs feeling on fire. It was the most excruciating pain she had ever felt, as deep crimson sputum was expelled from each cough, falling to the ground and burning it, like a corrosive poison.

This scared the maiden, while the god held her hand, his grip strong and reassuring that she wasn’t alone in this. Her coughing lasted several painful minutes, until she spewed out a large lump which seemed to disintegrate, the fire in her lungs and throat subsiding. She gasped for air as she slumped on her chair, wiping some cold sweat from her forehead with difficulty, for the attack had drained her of any ounce of strength. Her chest ached, the force of the coughing attack had been too much for her weak body, yet it somehow felt lighter, the lightest she ever felt in years. As if she had taken mint, crisp air filled her lungs, a freshness she had long forgotten.

Vil quickly took action, carrying her gently in his arms as she composed herself, yet he couldn’t stop himself from gasping when from the poisonous pool where the sputum had fallen bloomed a purple flower. It had three large, curved petals and in between them, three smaller ones stood up proudly, giving the impression of two intersecting triangles.

His reaction made Ann muster some strength to turn her head and realize the magical event happening in front of her eyes. She was even more surprised at this sudden creation, but the strain of everything caused her to lose consciousness in the arms of the god.

When Ann had come to, she found herself in her bed and her entire family and Vil were surrounding her. Her body continued to ache, yet it had subdued for the most part. But before she could say anything, her parents carefully examined her, worry visible in their faces. Never had she experienced something similar, and they were scared that it was something that could threaten her life. Her throat ached, she couldn’t tell them that her chest hadn’t felt so clean in a long time. Even the water she took to hydrate herself tasted different, but she had no chance to ponder further as she fell into a deep slumber.

Days had passed since Ann had taken the hydrangea tea, and to everyone’s surprise, her complexion had continued to improve. Before, she would seem to recover, only to worsen just as quickly. This time it seemed like the nutritious meals had a lasting effect, and she even gained some weight and had more energy to write for longer periods, and walk short distances. With every step, she feared she would lose all the strength she seemed to have, but it hadn’t occurred yet. Furthermore, she hadn’t coughed in days and her lungs continued to feel clear. In fact, she felt she could breathe better little by little, she could hold more air when she inhaled deeply and she stopped finding herself gasping for air randomly throughout the day.

It felt like a dream, and with it, there was a pervasive fear of waking up and realizing it was just a cruel illusion, one from a bedridden sick girl on her dying breath.

It was when the god of Death appeared at her door.

Ann was sitting by the hydrangeas as the god of beauty was taking care of the garden, when the god of Death Idia approached them with fearful steps. The god was not the social type, for he cowered behind the flowers and shrubs, and he had been waiting for over an hour before Vil noticed his presence.

“It is unusual to see you outside of your realm, Idia,” Vil said with a mocking smirk. Idia’s taunting remarks had not been forgotten by the beautiful god, and he greatly enjoyed seeing the introvert god shivering and hiding behind the blossoms, just to be able to talk.

“Eeeeek! Uhhhhh…. I’m just here….to ask something…about your human.”

“Oh? Would you mind speaking louder? I am afraid I cannot hear you properly.” Vil’s gaze was on Idia and the cowardly god shivered, grinding his teeth as he muttered something about extroverts and how he should have gone home instead.

“Is there something wrong, Vil?” Ann asked, taking some steps to greet the god.

“Ah, you!” Idia yelped as his pale finger pointed at her. “Why haven’t you finished the book, if you’re not dying? You had around a week left, but now you can’t die. So you should have been focusing your entire energy on the book,” Idia mumbled so rapidly that Ann had trouble following.

However, Vil had perfectly understood everything the god of death was saying and he glared at him. “Excuse us, could you repeat what you just said?”

“Eeeek!” Idia shrunk. “W-we had a deal and I should have her soul by now, but you somehow broke the rules, so can you please finish the book at least for all my troubles?”

“My little gremlin is almost done with the manuscript, but you’d be well aware that she was on the verge of dying the entire time. Did you really expect her to do all you are asking her to with her non-existing strength?”

“She should have used all of it to finish the book, then die!” Idia whined. “But her thread of life suddenly became impossible to be cut, so you did something to it. That’s why she should have worked harder.”

“Thread of life?” Ann asked timidly.

“A mortal’s lifespan is determined by a thread that is cut the moment they die. I had my suspicions, but it seems the presence of Idia here has confirmed them. The tea you took not only healed your illness, but it seems to have given you immortality,” Vil said while eyeing Idia for a hint to see if his logic was wrong. Idia just grumbled to himself something about Vil making his life harder.

This made the maiden’s heart pound rapidly. Immortality? The tea had cured her?

“Does that mean that it can heal anyone?”

Idia shook his head. “Don’t be so full of yourself, the flowers this god created don’t work on anyone else. To the rest of the world they are just some lame flowers, eugh.”

The comment made Vil’s frown deepen as he said with a dangerous voice, “Would you care to repeat the last part?”

Idia scurried away, not before demanding an update soon, but Ann couldn’t think of anything other than the words they exchanged. Vil let out a sigh and patted her head.

“I had only heard from vague stories about blessings bestowed to humans loved by gods, but I had never seen it happening. The love of a god isn’t something you easily obtain, you silly gremlin.”

“But the flowers were created when I died…”

Vil cleared his throat, as a very faint red hue colored his cheeks. “You should be very grateful of my blessing, even though I never expected it to happen. But it is as Idia said. It only works on the recipient of affection. To the rest of the world, it will be an ordinary flower. I’ve already tested with other people. Now let’s go back to your room, before-”

Ann interrupted Vil, as she embraced him from behind, tears forming in her eyes. It meant so much to her, the love of her beloved god in physical form. A beautiful flower never seen before. That on its own was enough of a blessing, one she would never imagine receiving. That it was capable of healing her disease, she had trouble believing it, even though she fully trusted Vil’s words. It was almost like a dream.

Vil’s hands held hers as he chuckled to himself. “I’m very pleased with the result. However,” he said as he broke free of her embrace and picked her up gently, her face so close to his. “You should know that it isn’t so almighty that you are immune to any harm. That’s why we’ve been focusing on nursing your health. Do not behave mischievously, my little gremlin.”

She threw her arms behind his head as she leaned closer. “I’ll do my best to behave, but perhaps we could celebrate this a little?”

“Fufufu, aren’t you being a naughty girl. Though I can’t say I’m against the idea,” he whispered, before his lips met hers and their breaths became one.

The new season arrived, turning the lush green of trees into a warm fire that spread throughout the land. The final book of Tetramystica had been released and had a hold over every reader for now. Since it was finished properly, there were rumors of a theatre version once again. To everyone’s surprise, the main lead was specifically requested by the author to be the god of Beauty. Everyone had thought it was an act of the highest degree of arrogance, to casually request a god to interact like that with mere humans. The god of Beauty acted almost offended to this imposition, however, he graciously accepted to everyone’s shock, and he even had to reassure the other cast members to treat him on that stage as an equal. It had been unheard of, and whenever any performance was over, they all would grovel at his feet for any mistakes they had made.

While Vil pretended to be annoyed, he was in fact very amused, as he basked in the adoration and gazes of everyone, the applause after a performance, especially of a particular viewer who would come to every show, and who brought beautiful bouquets of flowers to praise the god for his performance.

The god’s critique was harsh and biting, unsurprisingly, but it shaped some actors into promising figures, and more people meekly attempted to include him on their stages. Vil wouldn’t accept all roles, though he certainly had a penchant for melodrama when he was requested, for he had other things he was interested in, such as the research of the remedies he had brewed and their efficiency in treating different illnesses, but most importantly, he wanted to spend time with his beloved wife.

Perhaps that was the most impressive and unexpected thing of all, that someone had been able to capture the heart of a god, and that she would become the goddess of Flowers. It was fitting in a way, as blossoms were amongst the most beautiful of all beings in the land. They had married shortly after Vil’s debut in a surprisingly very private ceremony that only few chosen ones were privy to. However, the news quickly spread for the god of Hunt Rook would sing praises to the couple nonstop when visiting the towns. Rook had even begun to tell their love story in the form of songs that made it even more popular amongst the townsfolk. Not only it had become quite embellished, but Rook even began spreading the rumor that Vil had taken Medicine under his protection, given his efforts to save his beloved. Vil would always contest that point, as it hadn’t been exactly true, given how her cure had been very specific and a miracle.

The goddess herself had a knack for medicine as well, perhaps it ran in the family, and the couple were still working on a reliable cure for consumption, though there was a promising remedy in a mix of aloe, agapanthus, eucalyptus and sweet garlic.

Furthermore, as result of the love between Vil and Ann, more beautiful blossoms had begun to appear, which in turn meant more flowers to be used for ornamentation, for medicinal purposes, and even beauty enhancement. Not that the god of Beauty needed it, he was now the most radiant and truly the single owner of the title of Fairest one of all. His beloved wife loved to tease him about the reason for his beauty, one he didn’t always admit.

The couple was found in their garden, where the goddess of Flowers was tending them while the god of Beauty was examining the next blossoms to be used.

“Hmmm, I’ve been wondering,” Ann said after pondering for a long time, staring at the peculiar bloom in front of her, the one which had been born when she took the tea brewed with the crystalized love of a god. “I think I’ll call this flower ‘Iris’”.

Vil chuckled, it had taken her weeks to think of a name. “Ara, ara, have you finally decided on something? I cannot say I dislike the name, but I’m curious about your reasoning.”

“Well,” Ann huffed, “I think it sounds cool, and well, it can be in different colors.” She held her hand up as Vil’s mouth opened to most likely protest. “I know many flowers are colorful, like the rainbow, but I made it, so I get to name it.”

“Fufufu, I am not surprised. You should enrich your imagination, my dear, if you intend to create more blossoms. Otherwise, you’ll run out of names. That is why I’ve been preparing a trip for us.”

“A what?” She blinked in disbelief.

“I do recall your weakness in your writing when describing places you’ve never been before, so in order to strengthen your prose and gather more ideas for future stories, it is imperative for you to see and visit as many places as possible,”

Ann pouted, as she folded her arms in front of her chest. “Could you please admit you want to fulfill that wish of mine instead of gifting me your backhanded comments?” But she let out a sigh and shook her head. “It’s a rhetorical question, but I graciously accept your offer, even if you could be nicer. Though perhaps this trip might also help the god to be kinder and more honest about his passionate love for his wife.”

This time, Vil curled up his lips as a faint blush covered his cheeks. But before he could grumble like he would sometimes do, Ann held him close as she buried her face on his chest. He accepted his defeat of sorts, and pressed his lips on her forehead, and then brought her close to his face, to steal her lips in a kiss.

Art by Kyara_3bimuu