Matchsticks: A Dark Spirits Fairytale

by S. J. Sanders

  Eltha set the pitcher in its place by the freestanding basin in one corner before proceeding to the bed with her bundle. Her long ears that were folded back at the side of her head snapped up as her smile dropped and pressed into a close-lipped smile. Her voice when she spoke was slightly raspy and of a lower, smokier pitch than common among human women. The sound was oddly soothing and soon put Agatha at ease despite the ogress’s imposing appearance.

  “Sorry. I forget that it makes other species nervous when I smile,” Eltha whispered as if afraid that even speaking in a normal volume would send her fleeing in terror. Agatha felt a pinch of guilt at the observation, since she indeed had that reaction, and more so when the ogress laid out several soft leggings on the bed in front of her.

  “My mate said you required something more to keep you warm, humans being delicate things and all. I am very quick with my needles, thanks to special magic handed down from my mother, and I was able to make three pairs in little time for you last night.”

  Agatha’s eyes widened at the offerings, and she inched forward next to the larger female so she could touch the knitted material.

  It was the softest thing she had ever felt! She thought her tunics were soft, but the leggings made by the ogress put them to shame. Agatha grinned up with delight at Eltha and swallowed the encroaching dread when the other female’s smile naturally widened in response.

  “These are wonderful, Eltha! Thank you.”

  The ogress’s cheeks darkened with pleasure, green eyes shining.

  “It is nice to have someone to make things for. The lupi females work together with their families to make their own clothing, but it’s just me and Opis in our den beneath the fortress. I wind my own hair with the wool to make the material more durable, as I was taught. I have a loom too if you would like…” she faltered, her cheeks darkening again as she cast her eyes down with uncertainty.

  While Agatha had little doubt Eltha could be ferocious and terrifying and likely rip someone apart defending what she considered hers, there was clearly a heart of gold in the ogress that was shy and uncertain. Reaching out a hand in a friendly gesture but refraining from touching since she had no idea what would be considered socially acceptable, she offered another smile.

  “That would be wonderful, and very kind of you. I certainly don’t have those kinds of skills. It will be great to have a friend who does.”

  “A friend?” Eltha brightened, another grin stretching wide. “I don’t recall having a friend before. Opis says he’s enough of a friend for me, and Aquilo is nice, but a female friend of my own! And you will wear my dresses too! Oh, I’d hoped that you’d say so! As it happens, I did put something in your wardrobe last night. It is a bit old, centuries old even, but I adjusted the measurements for you. It’s too small for me. I wore it in my youth, made by my mother’s own hand, but I wanted you to have it. You will see firsthand how strong ogre magic is! Put on those leggings and then come with me.”

  She turned, and in a few ground-eating footsteps, she was at the wardrobe and opening it. As Agatha had suspected, the clothing from the previous day was already neatly put away. As she struggled into her leggings, her eyes found the long blue woolen tunic she wore the day before, freshly cleaned and hanging there. With it were more of the long tunics, of varying lengths that appeared to be designed to be layered, and a number of large woven shawls hung on a simple rack built onto one of the doors.

  Eltha ignored these and reached back into a corner to pull out a cranberry-colored tunic and a shorter overtunic that was cream with some sort of green sprigs embroidered on it. They hardly looked to be a year old, much less centuries old, and Agatha stared at the handiwork in awe as she made her way to Eltha’s side, clad in leggings but still holding the blanket wrapped around her chest as she inspected the incredible tunic. She wasn’t prepared at all for the ogress to rip away her blanket with a single smooth motion that barely left Agatha time to squeak in surprise before the long-sleeved red tunic was pulled over her head.

  Immediately, she was surrounded by silky softness and the incredible warmth of the fabric. To her embarrassment, a moan of pleasure escaped her making Eltha chuckle.

  “It’s nice, isn’t it? The best and most comfortable clothes to be had are made by ogress hands. We look scary and have big appetites, but we have special magic,” she said with a wink as she pulled the short-sleeved cream tunic over the red one.

  Agatha opened her mouth to object when Eltha reached for a bristle brush from a drawer, but let it drop. It was clear that her new friend was enjoying herself. The female had settled onto a stool to bring her closer to Agatha’s much shorter height, and her touch was incredibly gentle as she ran the brush through the wild mass of curls. The warm touch was so soothing that Agatha’s eyes dropped half-mast as she leaned into every stroke with pleasure. Her eyes fell heavier when Eltha began to hum a peculiar song that wormed its way into her blood. She only snapped out of it when the song stopped, and the brush was returned to the drawer in exchange for a long red ribbon with which the ogress bound her hair.

  Agatha glanced down at herself, feeling considerably festive.

  “This is perfect, Eltha! And I don’t think I’ve ever felt warmer,” she added with a chuckle.

  Obvious pride showed in the ogress’s eyes as she beamed down at her. “You look proper now, and no doubt much warmer. Fine enough to go see our king.”

  Agatha’s eyebrows snapped up. “King?”

  “Of course.” Eltha chuckled. “He’s the king of the northern reaches, of this mountain, the fortress and all that dwells within his territories. He’s no less a king than any of the other gods, regardless of whatever hierarchy they maintain among themselves. To us, he is ours.”

  Well, that made sense… but put in that perspective, she felt even more out of her depth. It was silly to be more cowed by the idea of him being a king than a god, but the hierarchy had seemed vague. Being at the whims of a king was something different altogether.

  “Oh shit,” she whispered to herself.

  Chapter 8

  Aquilo was seated in a chair that appeared no less a throne than the actual one when she entered the study. The most immediate difference was that it appeared to be made of wood rather than stone. Far more of it was cushioned too, upholstered in the darkest blue velvet with silver embroidery that caught the light from the hearth and numerous lamps set within his study, many of them covered with beautiful stained glass covers, no doubt to protect the flames from the drafts of the fortress. One such lamp sat with two domed plates on a table just off to his side.

  Noting her presence, his lips turned up, the expression easier and a bit warmer than it had been before as he gestured her to a smaller upholstered chair in matching colors that he had placed at the other side of the table. Agatha sank into it, her stomach rumbling enthusiastically with the sweet and spicy smells reaching her nose.

  Her eyes widened with the delight as the covers were removed to reveal bowls filled with a hot porridge mixed with spices she recognized and bits of preserved fruit, hot bread slathered with butter, a tiny pot of honey, and pitchers of cold cream set to the side for her to add to her porridge to her liking.

  She set quickly into her food, savoring every bite. When there was no more porridge left, she cleaned her spoon, eager to catch every tasty drop. Then she licked the rim of her bowl, and a low growl drew her gaze up to the burning eyes of Aquilo sitting across from her.

  His food was likewise gone, but his eyes were fixed on her—or more accurately her tongue as she pulled it back into her mouth with a hot flush. The blue flames within his eyes brightened, sending sparks through her to such a degree that she felt every hair on her body stir in reaction and her belly tighten. Desperate to look somewhere—anywhere!—else, Agatha inspected the study.

  The room was surprisingly large, despite being about half the size of the throne room. By her estimate, it was easily twice as large as her living room in her uptown apartment before the rav
ening, and she hadn’t lacked for space. Shelves lined three of the four walls, a number of them with compartments that were filled with neatly stacked ancient scrolls. Other shelves were packed with books with aged bindings that she would be afraid to even touch. Aside from a large writing table that dominated one corner nearest to the hearth, there was a large space that would be almost the perfect fit for a solstice tree. Even the hearth could use a few garlands and…

  “Your mind is far away. Where have you gone to?” Aquilo’s deep voice interrupted.

  She shifted slightly in her chair and eyed him. Would he go for the idea? Some men were very particular about their personal space, but as far as she had seen yet, outside of her bedroom, this was the ideal place for a little holiday cheer.

  “You mentioned that I’m free to decorate. Did you mean it?”

  His dark eyebrows rose, and he inclined his head in agreement. “Of course. Anything you can do to make my fortress feel less like a…” He paused, at a loss.

  “Like a fortress,” she suggested wryly, making the handsome—if all too brief—curl of his lips return.

  “Indeed. I think my home needs a bit of human warmth. Did you not agree?”

  She nodded her head eagerly. Yes! This was exactly what she wanted.

  “Absolutely! In fact, I have some ideas for your study, if you don’t mind hearing them?”

  He gestured for her to continue, and she bit back a satisfied grin.

  “I take it that your throne room is where you do official business, and while I think that could use some warmth too, some small bits of added decorative elements, I imagine it would be best to keep a decluttered, official look to it that brings the focus to you. It’s not meant to be comfortable but to be a reflection of your power and status.”

  “That is an accurate framing,” he agreed. “It is where I conduct my official duties, and if any of the beings who dwell upon my mountain are in need of me, I will meet with them there… and accept dignitaries of the gods,” he added with a slightly vexed look that she didn’t know how to interpret.

  “Would you say that you spend more of your personal time in your study?” she hedged.

  “Without a doubt. I will retire to my chambers when the mood strikes me, but I take my leisure here for the most part. Veli often joins me here, but rarely any of his brothers. They prefer the space of the throne room and other parts of the fortress, where they have freer rein, rather than the confines of the study. I would have brought you here yesterday except the hour was late and you required more immediate care.”

  “Perfect! Then you won’t mind me adding to this room in particular.”

  He leveled a cool glance at his surroundings and shrugged his wings. “I admit that I would be pleased if you could extend some attention to the throne room as you mentioned, but if there is something that you would like to add to the study to make it more to your liking, I would be agreeable.”

  “Good. We need an evergreen tree, and some loose branches to make garlands. Eltha has access to ribbon, I’m sure. Oh, I’m never going to remember all this, much less expect anyone else to.” She laughed. “I can make up a list if you have paper and a pen?”

  “You wish to bring a tree inside… and plant it?” He gave her an incredulous look.

  She stared at him for a moment, not sure if he was pulling her leg until realization dawned on her. He really did have no idea what she was talking about. He had been isolating himself in his fortress and didn’t know squat about the solstice traditions that so many humans had created to brighten the darkest days of the year.

  So she explained it to him. The tree, the food, the cheerful sharing of drinks in good company, gifts exchanged from one heart to another. Everything she could think of she told to him. And he listened. His face remained expressionless for the most part.

  Sometimes, she saw something thaw and enliven with what looked like hope and desire. A different sort of warmth from the heat he turned on her at unexpected moments. At those times, she saw a yearning that matched what she had been feeling with everything joyous ripped away from her, without even the small cheer of a holiday to comfort her.

  Suddenly, Agatha was determined to bring everything she could think of to outdo every solstice party she had ever thrown. She would give her all to make this solstice the best—not only for Aquilo, who had never had one, but for herself too.

  As she sat there making her list under the scrutiny of his cool supervision, she glanced up at him curiously.

  “Wait, when is the solstice here?”

  His lips twitched in a way that resembled a playful smirk. “Time runs differently in this world. There is no solstice the way that you understand it. The days pass by the order of the gods, time flowing on its own accord rather than necessarily in agreement with the passage of days in the human world—although it can and has happened that they align. Much of it depends on circumstances and on whether or not any other gods are shifting time around you.”

  He stilled for a moment, eyes narrowing thoughtfully, but sighed and shook his head before he continued speaking. Whatever thought had occurred to him had clearly been dismissed.

  “You will know the arrival of the solstice. Unlike in the northern reaches of the human world, we note the appearance of Sol at the edge of my kingdom as he flies his chariot over the breadth of the world. His light shall only glimmer in the distance over the ice and snow, barely lighting the edge of the night, but he will make sure to be seen with a golden light that harkens the approach of Apollo, who will descend from the north to return to the human world. His arrival is met with feasting and drinking before he crosses the barrier of the worlds.”

  Agatha listened raptly, daring to draw a breath when he fell silent. There would be two gods in residence in that night. No wonder he knew little of the human world. All his time and attention would be devoted to hosting another god. Of course, that also changed everything.

  She had almost dreaded that he asked her to give her attention to the cold throne room, but now her mind was filled with ideas of how she could decorate it. Eltha had a loom… Perhaps banners of gold and ice blue. There were a few benches that lined the walls of the throne room. Maybe she would bring out a few chairs similar to those in the study—other rooms in the fortress must have them, since she had one in her own room, after all—and drape them with pillows and festive garlands. She would have to discuss a menu with Eltha…

  There was just so much! It was the sort of job she would have killed for in her old life when she watched with disappointment as friends and associates landed the holiday accounts she wanted.

  Oh, she would stand on the sidelines, watching was as much as she would be permitted, but the satisfaction would be well worth it regardless of how much she got to witness firsthand. She would give the god a solstice he would never forget. One that would hopefully provide him with much joy. As bleak as his surroundings seemed to be, she wanted him to really experience the joy of the holiday as she had always known it.

  A terrible thought suddenly occurred to her as she took in his far-off expression. Would he even be able to feel it?

  Aquilo cocked his head at her, eyes sparking in the lamplight with a sudden flare of inner fire. He leaned forward, and the scent of him surrounded her intoxicatingly even as his gaze ignited an ember deep within her.

  “You look radiant. How is that this has made you almost transformed?” he murmured as he reached forward with one hand and traced the side of her cheek with his fingertips.

  She let out a nervous laugh, looking at him from beneath her eyelashes in an attempt to hide how much his intense regard affected her. That touch alone made her throb.

  “Seriously? The last few years have been massively crappy, and you’ve just handed me the one thing I’ve always dreamed of: the opportunity to create one really fantastic solstice party. Now here’s what I’m thinking,” she said, drawing out a fresh page of paper as she redirected the topic, “we will need a bunch of material, dyed in
an appropriate color scheme. Do you think some of the lupi women might be interested in helping?”

  He nodded slowly. “They might be. They enjoy group work, and it is a welcome distraction when the males see to other duties around the fortress. I imagine it will especially be the case if many of the males descend in the lower heights to gather your evergreens.” His lips twisted slightly as he said it, as if the very thought both baffled and amused him. “Although I must warn you that if they come, it will likely be packs of them together with their offspring. It will be chaos.”

  She laughed at his warning. “That’s nothing unusual. I had a large family with all the extended relatives my parents dragged me to visit. I can’t remember a holiday passing that wasn’t complete chaos of family members underfoot… or that time my aunt Gina tried to take charge.”

  Another laugh left her at the memory, this one tinged with sadness. She had lost her entire family to the ravening. Although she had been too busy with work to spend the holidays with them after she started gaining success, she wished desperately that she had been able to have one last solstice with them.

  A quiet settled between them with her change in mood as she made her lists under his watchful eye. His smiles were fewer as she worked, but there was now an uncanny warmth in his gaze as he watched her that did not go unnoticed. She felt his gaze even as she absorbed herself in her work so that she wasn’t left with an opening to think of them anymore. She occasionally glanced up at him, but only truly broke away from her single-minded task to ask his opinion on one thing or another. Otherwise, they didn’t speak, and he watched her with his unshakable focus, as if he were waiting for something or trying to puzzle out a mystery.

  When Eltha entered a short time later, it was with two ceramic cups with the scent of a spiced coffee that she vaguely recognized from a visit to a little Greek cafe. Agatha gratefully sipped the brew, slowly as to enjoy the way it heated her through, humming a little melody out of pure pleasure. Aquilo seemed to take similar enjoyment because his eyes became hooded and a sort of undefinable tension eased from him, and his gaze shifted to something softer. The hard set of his lips eased into softer lines, their color lightening from bright red to a softer pink even as the blue lightened further beneath his skin to where his complexion appeared more pearl than ice.