#i've never posted my writing online before asdfjklsdjls

[mythicglyphs]

I published my first fanfic! Marrow of Despair, a Raphael x Tav oneshot.

Read on AO3 (Link)

Summary: Alone by the fire at night, fevered and weak, Tav is afraid she is on the verge of transformation. Raphael's appearance seems to confirm her worst fears, but perhaps the devil has other reasons for paying her a visit.

The fire was low. Tav was frozen to the bones.

It was already cold for a summer night and the others had retreated to their tents early. For the last few hours, she had been in the grip of a sickening chill. She shivered uncontrollably. Every gust of wind made her feel as though icy tendrils were creeping across her skin. She could hardly think straight. Amidst the dizziness and the pounding in her head, one question was pressing itself to the forefront of her mind.

Is this it?

The splitting headache, the chill, the delirium that seemed to be filling her head with white mist. That was how it began, wasn't it? There was sickness, fever, gut-wrenching pain...and then dissolution. The total loss of self, the reformation into something new. Something soulless.

She should tell the others.

But then what? What if it was happening to them too, and they were all in their tents, consumed by the same cold terror as she was? Or what if she was the only one? Would they protect her, insist that they keep up the search for a cure until the very end, or would they simply kill her? Would she let them? She didn't know whether it was hope, or simply the animal instinct for self preservation, that kept her from calling out for her companions. Visions of what would happen to them if she transformed right there in camp began to bloom in her imagination, and fear and guilt ate at her.

Her head thudded. She was so weak. She thought she could feel the squirm of the parasite behind her eye, and her stomach turned over.

Don't let this be it. Please, don't let this be it. I'll do anything.

As soon as the thought had flittered across her mind, there was a strange crackle in the air, followed by the faint scent of something burning. Then, a familiar voice.

"My, what a pitiful sight."

Her heart turned ice cold.

Of course, he would show up now. There could be no doubt now. All hope was gone, and true to his word, he was there. Her last remaining choice.

She forced herself to look up. The devil was standing some distance from her, in the shadow of a tree, looking at her with cool amusement.

"I...Raph..."

"Raph? We've become familiar awfully quickly, haven't we?"

Tav glared at him and opened her mouth, but no words came out. It was such an effort to speak, even to think. He smirked and sat down on a nearby log, looking as much the picture of elegance in their makeshift camp as he did in his own house. She knew how she must look; glassy-eyed, drenched in cold sweat, and weak. Easy prey, like an injured animal.

"But, I'm glad about that," he continued. "You look as though you're in need of a friend. A saviour, even."

She summoned the last ounces of strength she possessed. Yes, it was hopeless, she knew exactly why he had come, but whatever he wanted, be it her soul or something even more costly, she wasn't giving it up without some semblence of a fight.

"Hellspawn," she spat. "Get out of here."

Her voice was weak and cracked. She knew there hadn't been much power in it, because he was looked more amused than ever as he gazed down at her. Forcing herself to ignore the splitting pain in her head, she gave him the filthiest glare she could muster.

"You know," he said, with feigned indignance. "When you look at me like that, I can't help but think your face would be improved by the presence of a few tentacles."

It was too effortful to respond. Tav pressed her hands hard into the sockets of her eyes in an effort to relieve the pain, though it gave her the horrible feeling that she was pushing the tadpole further in. She could hear Raphael moving, leaves and grass crackling under his boots as he approached her.

"Where are your loyal companions?" he asked. "Resting peacefully in their tents, leaving you alone in such a terrible state? It hardly seems fair. Shall I wake them?"

Resting peacefully. So she was the only one. The first to succumb to ceremorphosis. He seemed to read her thoughts on her face.

"I wonder," he said slowly, sounding as though he was savouring her fear. "What would they think if they saw you like this? What would they do?"

She couldn't transform. She couldn't. All of her courage, her resolve and determination, wound as tightly as the strings of a lute, suddenly snapped.

"Raphael - do something, please," The words were tumbling out of her mouth before she could stop them. "I'll take your deal, I'll give you whatever you want. Just don't let this happen. Don't let me transform."

His smile widened slowly.

"Why, just moments ago, you still had some fight in you."

"Please." She didn't care how she sounded, couldn't hide her desperation any longer. "I need your help. Just tell me what you want."

"I don't want anything," he said, flippantly. "Other than your rapid recovery, of course."

He wasn't going to refuse, surely? He couldn't abandon her to that fate.

"You said...you said you could help. That you'd save..."

Raphael chuckled.

"Charming as it is to hear you beg for my help," he said. "It's unwarranted. You need not be so eager. We have time yet for deals and contracts, for despair and desperation. In the meantime..."

He knelt down, gazed at her for a moment, then surprised her by placing the back of his hand against her forehead.

"The brave adventurer," he murmured. "Bold enough to stand in a devil's house and threaten to rip out his tongue. Brought this low by a mere fever."

"I...what?"

"A common occurence, I suppose, when one spends their days trawling through goblin camps and ancient crypts."

Tav peered at him through a delirious haze, trying to find some sense in his words. A fever? If that was all it was, then why had he come? Was he toying with her, giving her a little taste of false hope to make the game last longer?

"You mean - this isn't - I'm not - ?"

"Transforming? Not tonight." He trailed his fingers down her cheek. "I'd wager that you'll retain this precious mortal skin for some time yet."

That couldn't be true. There could only be one reason for his being here, on this night.

"You're lying," she said, feeling her cheek grow hot where he touched her.

"I assure you, I'm not," he replied.

"I...I don't trust..."

"Why, you wound me," he said, removing his hand and leaning back. "I've been unfailingly honest to you since we met. Besides, do you think if your soul really were about to turn at any moment to an empty shadow, that I would dally on claiming it?"

She didn't trust him, not one bit...but something in his voice told her that he was telling the truth.

It was a fever. That was all. Relief washed over her, followed, a moment later, by the strange urge to laugh. Raphael, for all his teasing and toying with her, had sought her out in their middle-of-nowhere camp simply to assure her that she wasn't about to sprout a head of tentacles.

"So, shall I wake your companions?" he asked.

"No," said Tav. Her head was still pounding, but she felt lighter. She wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and sleep. "No...I'll be fine. It'll pass."

"I would feel dreadful leaving you alone in this condition," he said. His voice, although retained its usual ironic quality, was somehow less mocking than it had been moments ago. "Especially on such a cold and lonely night..."

Before she could register what was happening, he had taken her firmly by the shoulders and manoeuvred her down onto the bedroll again. Lying there, weak, but calm, she listened to the sound of Raphael moving around the camp. There was the sound of logs being thrown on the fire, and an accompanying blaze of heat. The clink of a pot, the rustle of a bag. A moment later, he was lifting her head and holding a cup at her mouth.

"Drink this."

Too tired to protest, or even to ask what was in the cup, she drank. It was tea, sweet with honey. There was the slight medicinal edge of something else, but whatever it was, she was too exhausted to care. She drank the whole cup and felt a warmth spread through her insides.

"Why are you..." Tav began, trailing off as her head sank down into the pillow again. Raphael seemed to understand what she meant.

"I told you before," he said. He had moved behind her, his hand was resting on her shoulder. "My compassion is boundless. Particularly where my very favourite client is concerned."

"I'm not your client," she mumbled.

"Not yet."

There was a burst of heart and a flash of light bright enough to register even through her tightly closed eyes. A moment later, she felt something extremely warm at her back. Arms were encircling her and holding her tight. The cold, cutting winds were suddenly stopped by a large, leathery wing, draped over her like a blanket.

"The others," muttered Tav, vaguely imagining her companions emerging from their tents to this unexpected sight. "If they wake..."

"They won't."

She felt the tips of razor sharp claws trailing down her arm, raising goosebumps on her skin, although she didn't feel cold anymore. The intense infernal heart was thawing her. Every muscle was relaxing. Was this really happening, or was it some feverish dream?

She felt something around her waist; a thick, sinuous tail, tightening around her, holding her in place. If this was real, then what did it mean?

"Tell me why you..."

She drew a sharp breath, cut off mid-sentence as Raphael's claws dug into her skin. His tail lashed. He pulled her closer. Perhaps it was not the time to question the devil, not while lying in his embrace in the dead of night.

"Go to sleep, little mouse," he whispered. She closed her eyes and obeyed.

#raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #i've never posted my writing online before asdfjklsdjls #this devil has taken over my whole brain