The Wizard, The Wolf, and The Witch | Chapter 1
Warnings: 18+, Spiders, sex in later chapters (with oc no. 3)
OC x OC
Word Count: 1.5k
Banner by @jiyascepter | Dividers by @tsunami-of-tears
Summer has not long passed, and The Wood Without End is blanketed with the warm colors of autumn.
Vibrant yellows and fiery reds paint the trees, setting the underbrush aglow, as sunlight shines through each leaf like stained glass.
The air is sweet with the smell of damp earth and decay, as leaves kick up beneath the feet of a young witch. Her wide-brimmed hat blocks the sun from her eyes as she scans the mossy ground for mushrooms and acorns.
[[MORE]]
The forest around her hums with life, pixies playing on falling leaves, silk spiders weaving webs and spinning cocoons for the coming winter. She can feel the air buzzing with energy- even the trees seem to be vibrating with the day’s potential.
She’s knelt in the dirt beside a fallen log, carefully picking through a patch of mushrooms, when she hears heavy boots not far down the path. Her eyes light up when she sees who it is that dares intrude on her solitude.
“Papa!” Mushrooms long forgotten as she jumps into the arms of her father, an old, Grey-haired man with a well-groomed beard, and a stern look about him that softens at her sudden embrace, even as his bag hits the ground.
“Hello, my dear, Calysta,” He grins, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. He hums in contentment at being home, “Two weeks is far too long to be away.”
“I missed you too,” She pouts, “I hate when you’re not around.”
“And I hate not being here, so I would say we’re a perfect pair, you and I.” He glances over at her abandoned basket, “What was it you were doing before I so rudely interrupted? Looking for fresh ingredients for a new spell?”
“Mushrooms, for dinner,” She corrects, and he finally sets her back on her own feet, “And acorns, for a project.”
He snaps his fingers, his bag jumping up into his hand at the command, and she retrieves her basket. She takes his offered arm, leaning into him as they make their way back to the cottage.
“I made friends with this lovely white birch the other day,” She grins up at him, “I complimented her beautiful foliage and handsome branches, and she shivered, raining down the bewitching leaves around me.”
Volous sighs.
“And what have I told you about speaking with the trees?”
She shrinks slightly at his chiding tone, “To not to, but papa-”
“And why not?”
She huffs and looks down at her feet, “Because they are ancient beings who have different societal norms than us.”
“And?”
“And,” She groans, “If one were so inclined, they could petrify me or turn me into a creature of their domain.”
She’s been lectured on the topic more times than she can remember. Most trees are rather benevolent, but, in this forest, the trees are old- older than most humans, and their power rings stronger.
“Oh, but she was just so pretty, Papa! It felt rude to not say anything!”
He chuckles, shaking his head as he squeezes her hand, “And how did you know it was a girl?”
“Well-” She pauses, worrying her lip between her teeth as she thinks, a habit she has had since she was small, “I suppose I just did.”
Of course she did. Even when she was a child, she was more in tune with nature than anyone he’d ever met or read about- save for perhaps the gods of old, whose ancient magics still swirl amongst the branches of the Wood Without End.
“And what of your studies?” He asks, an amused smile behind his whiskers, “Or were you too preoccupied making new friends to even touch your books?”
“I studied,” She insists, “… some.”
She perused the transmogrification lesson he’d laid out for her, but quickly found herself bored. She had already mastered the subject in practice, but the technicalities of it confused her; all the talk of rearrangement and sub-particles always became jumbled and blurred in her mind. She found that simply doing it was easier, so that is what she did, but her father insisted she learn the work behind the spell so she could truly understand it.
“Well, at least the house is still standing,” He comments as the clearing with the small stone cottage comes into view. The gardens look healthy, the windows of the greenhouse intact, and smoke curls toward the sky from the fireplace inside. The house, of course, is far larger on the inside, with an expansive library, many guest rooms- though they never use them- and a workshop made just for her, identical to his. “Small blessings.”
He laughs heartily when she elbows his ribs; she has been the only one to manage such a reaction from him in many years.
“Come along, I’m starved of your cooking and am in need of a hot bath.”
The sitting room is warm from the crackling fire in the magnificent mantle to their right.
His royal blue traveling cloak slips from his shoulders and hangs itself up on the peg by the door- that has been empty since he left- as he toes off his boots.
“Any trouble from any of our neighbors?” He asks as he makes his way to the washroom.
“The wood was quiet.” She calls back, her skirt flaring around her when she spins on her way to the kitchen, before the thick brown fabric and simple petticoat settle back just below her knees, “No mortals, no disturbances.”
“Good.”
She hums to herself as she prepares mushrooms and vegetables for their dinner, the stew pan with the night’s roast still cooking in the oven in the hearth from earlier in the afternoon. The rest will be sauteed closer to serving time, so she starts work on dessert.
She loves her father, but he has never been the best chef- ironic for such a skilled potion maker- so she gladly took up the task as soon as he let her. Normally, she doesn’t use magic when preparing food, but she finds that it makes baking far easier.
Soon, the sweet smell of honey cakes, courtesy of their kept bees, fills the house.
“I swear, I’ll have to let my clothes out again if I keep letting you at the stove.” Volous sighs, the smell of travel washed away. He laughs when he snatches one of the small cakes, and she tries to slap his hand away.
“You’ll spoil your dinner!” She scolds, as he takes half of it in his mouth, “And after all the work I put in, too!”
He motions her closer, his mouth too full to beckon her as he retrieves his bag. He digs inside for a moment before holding out a handful of various ribbons for her that he picked up in whichever town he’d been dragged to.
“M- and these,” He manages through chewing when she takes the gift, pulling out a few small vials.
“Is that dye for my spider silk?!” She gasps, ribbons fluttering to the floor as she snatches them away. She squeals happily and wraps her arms around him, her feet leaving the ground when his bag lands on the sofa and her hugs her back, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
The fire burns low, dishes washed, and honey cakes devoured, Volous looks far more at home than when he returned, reclined on the sofa in his monogrammed house robe and slippers, an intricately carved pipe in his hand as he peruses an old tome.
Calysta sighs, running a brush through her long hair, now freed from her braids, as she all but sits atop his lap.
“Hello there, darling,” He grunts, adjusting her to sit more on his legs so she can lean back against his chest- much like how she did when she was little. He kisses the side of her head, resting his chin on her to continue reading.
“What are you reading?”
He hums, flipping the page before answering, “Summoning and teleportation.”
“What do you want to summon?”
“I don’t,” He says gently, “These trips to and from the villages would be far less strenuous if we had dedicated teleportation circles. I’m not as young as I used to be.”
“You have at least another two centuries in you.” She frowns, “You’ll outlive us all.”
“Of course I will,” He agrees, pressing another kiss to the top of her head, “I would never leave my girl alone.”
He suspects she’d been reading along and fell asleep when her body relaxes further against him.
“Oh…” he chuckles and sets his book aside before hefting her up in his arms, “To bed with you, little one.”
He climbs the stairs, the door to her bedroom opening for him. The room is dark with vines of glowing flowers growing in the rafter, casting a faint pink glow about them. He sets her in bed, tucking her up tight, and kissing her forehead as if she were still a child, before stepping out and leaving the door open, just a crack.
