Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

She hadn’t always been Kronii. She used to be just… it. An endless, shapeless sensation, drifting through atoms and stardust for eons and eons. It didn’t have a name, not back then. Of course, it had always existed, had been birthed into the cosmos even before everything began, however that happened. It did not know, it only stayed.

But Time. Time was a human concept, at least in name. And so, in the eternities before, it had stayed silent, ever shifting, never still, controlling its unlabelled domain. It had no company, nor did it need any. Whatever would it need company for?

All it needed to do was follow what called to it, through the empty blackness, traversing towards the never-ending number of ticks, reaching far and wide to meet the demands.

And it had stayed alone, silent, until The Gods had pulled it from its vast spread, honing its unending stretch into a single being, still formless, still shifting.

And then it met another in what would eventually be known as the Council. At the time, the other did not have a name, much like it. They were both ‘It’, in a way. Neither were able to name their domain, nor did they particularly mind that idea. It just knew it would continue on, even after the other left, even after its new shape distorted and melted away, even after the stars in the other’s domain burned and died, or the rocks collided and shattered into unsalvageable slivers, it would continue on, unchanged, but ever formless.

Ever watching.

Warden, that is what they called it. The Gods had told it, not so much of a sound as it was the idea wriggling into its consciousness. It was The Warden. Of what, it knew not, but it kept control, overseeing anything pulling the attention of one of its infinite pieces. If something broke, it fixed it, pulled everything back to how it was, how it should be.

And so, it was them two. The Warden and The Speaker. For what the other was called, it did not speak much, not to it at least. Not that it saw The Speaker often. The Gods did not call on it frequently, not wanting to distract it from its endless work. It figured they were much the same towards The Speaker as well.

As it continued, the distant ticking repeating and repeating in its consciousness, it had eventually taken to a longer form, slithering through the planets and systems The Speaker watched over, slipping its body around the different stars, everywhere, all at once, thin, leathery wings furled tightly against its scales when not in use.

It didn’t particularly matter what it looked like, there was not many around to perceive it anyhow. The Speaker did not seem to have a form, or, if it did, it did not choose a perceptible one, but, unfortunately, The Warden needed to move. The grind and click of something long in the future called it in one direction, the ring of the past in another. And so it stretched, constricted existence between the coils of its body, scales shimmering dark with flickers of something brighter.

A whisper reached it. The Speaker was calling.

Something important.

And then there were three.

It had known, had heard mutterings through the emptiness and flashes of sights that it knew would come soon. It had anticipated this.

What it didn’t know, was what this new being was.

The new one didn’t have a title, just scampering amongst The Warden and The Speaker, darting and weaving, squeaking loudly. No purpose, no aim, nothing definite pulling it one way or another, only an instinct, a sense of complete disarray.

Completely free.

A terrifying concept.

The Gods let it be, and they returned to their duties, alone once more, yet surrounded, encompassed wholly by each other.

It would have felt the sharp sting of annoyance whenever the new being corrupted and destroyed its meticulous work but it could not find it in itself to particularly care. Yes, it meant having to redo a lot, rewind things to what had once been whole, but how could it blame the other for its nature?

Intrinsically, it knew, none of them would be able to exist without the other, none would be able to complete their duties, as they would not have been required in the first place.

What is needed, after all, when there is nothing.

Well, that was not exactly true. It also knew that, at the end of it all, it would exist if the others did not. It had been when there had been nothing, and, when, not if, when everything went back to nothing, it would still be. It knew not if the others would still be there when there is nothing.

But it would never tell them that. It would not even dare to tell The Gods that, though they most certainly knew. They wouldn’t exist without it either.

And it stayed that way, all three circling each other, yet never speaking, the new one disrupting its quiet order in a way only it could without so much as a single thought.

Until she came.

Another summoning. Another introduction. Same as always, The Warden’s vast, undulating form creaking and clicking as it coiled around the perimeter of the endless room, The Speaker shifting into everything and nothing all at once, suffocating the space with emptiness. The new one, The Other, as it had come to call it personally, twitched relentlessly, small, large, formless, sharp, ever-changing, vibrating in its space then freezing stiff.

They all were waiting.

The Gods, ever-present, never tangible, faded away, watching through the cosmos, bringing a new ‘It’ from the depths of the dark.

And there she was.

Glowing, weaving, form glimmering green as she twisted through the vacuum of space, crowing with… something, a bright gleam in her eye.

Delight.

How odd.

And it was the first time The Warden had heard a voice. A proper one. Not the constant squeaks and chatters of the other one, not the quiet suggestion of a mutter from The Speaker, no.

She spoke. Giggled. Sang. Darted amongst them with a fervour it had never encountered prior.

The Other seemed to love her, leaping and clinging and dancing with her.

“You all are wonderful!”

Wonderful.

It had never been called that before.

A grinding tick sounded out as it tilted its head, the clicking in the distance growing louder while it continued its slow, constant circling of the room.

She gasped, shrinking down from her massive size prior to look up at it, The Speaker’s stars shining in her gaze.

“Who may you be?”

Who.

It blinked, rising up and rotating back around to meet the new one properly, the constant whir accompanying its movements.

Who.

It did not know who it was. But it let her know the best it could.

I am The Warden.

The Speaker shifted closer.

You interfere with my domain.

“I do?”

Yes. It mused, swarming them all in its hazy mass. Though it seems to only be a small part. A small pocket. For now at least.

It wasn’t long before they all found out why. A tiny planet, not even a speck in the vastness of The Speaker’s creations, but it was not The Speaker’s anymore.

No.

It was The Keeper’s.

Except, that was not what she called herself.

She was Fauna.

The Warden did not really know what to make of it, not at the time, anyway. She was Fauna, but that was not her duty.

She was The Keeper, she should be The Keeper.

Fauna fit her better.

It didn’t go near Fauna’s domain, well, that was not true. It couldn’t not, its domain affected everything in existence, it collided with The Speaker, The Other, and now, with Fauna.

But The Warden didn’t stray near of its own accord, not like The Speaker, or The Other. They would explore Fauna’s planet, watch as she sprung what she called plants, flowers, bringing ‘life’.

And it would hear of these fantastical tales, listen in to the distant cries of what it figured was ‘happiness’ or ‘excitement’ as they all grew closer.

Not The Warden though. No, it had it’s duties to attend to, it’s domain did not rest, why should it, when it needed to carry on, keep everything moving with no delays.

Besides, it was not an interesting being. There was nothing to note with it, nothing special. All it did was work and work and-

And it had to travel to her domain.

For something was happening soon, a new ‘It’, though it was not brought to them by The Gods.

They later learned the word for Death.

A being closely intertwined with The Warden’s domain, the end of a call, the stillness of a final tick. A silent one, Death was, it was many many years before it started conversing with it, and vice versa, even more before it became close with the others. But, at the time at least, it was pulled only by the quickened rhythm of a clicking and strange, warbling sounds.

And it drifted down to see the sight before it.

Fauna, alone, lay draped over the collapsed body- a body, solid, tangible, an interesting idea- of a creature much like Fauna, donned with the same antlers that were fixed atop her head. One of her creations, surely, an ‘animal’ perhaps. The source of the sounds became quite clear as liquid streamed from her eyes to drop down onto the ‘animal’s’ flank.

She must have heard its presence, it was hard to miss the incessant droning that accompanied it, as her head jerked up, mane puffing up before settling back down.

“Warden.” She croaked, staring at the shifting air where it stood. It had opted for no form, the one it preferred was too big for this planet.

“Warden, is it you? Or one of your many parts?”

All my parts are me, Keeper.

“Fauna, please.” She brushed the fluid from her eyes using the fluff of her mane. “Sorry to be rude, but you’ve never visited before, not like the others. Why are you hear, if I may ask?”

It hummed, then cocked its head, listening in to the slowing tick of the creature.

Then it stopped.

Fauna flinched, bowing her head back down to nudge at the ‘animal’.

“Wake up darling.” She whispered, rasping her tongue over its still flank. “Come on, wake for me.”

Fauna.

Her ear flicked, pressing flat against her head.

I cannot sense it any more.

“What do you know?” She snapped, whipping back around to glare at it, a low rumbling emerging from her throat as she bared her teeth. “She is not your domain.”

But this is mine. It moved forward, undeterred. And it has come to an end.

“No!” Her hooves stamped into the damp earth. “You cannot take her from me!”

That is not my duty, Fauna.

“Then why are you here?!”

Because I did have something call me here. And your creature’s call has stopped.

“Can’t you do something?! I’ve seen the extent of your abilities.”

It paused, listening to the empty space where the sound once came from. This was not something it could turn back. It’s domain could only affect this in one way.

It shook its head.

She scoffed, tail lashing wildly.

“So what now, huh?”

That is not my place to know or say. It is another’s domain.

“Who’s?!”

I know not. But my duty here is complete. I shall leave you to yourself.

It started upwards, attempting to pay no mind to the other’s narrowed, watering eyes that watched her ascend.

I wish you well.

“No you don’t.” It heard her mutter under her breath.

And it was gone, back to another pull that dragged it to the other end of the cosmos.

And that is when they learned of death. Of grief. Of sorrow and heartbreak. Of anger.

For The Warden itself, it would be a long while before it could feel those, or at least have the ability to identify them for what they were. But for Nature herself, of course, she could feel like her creations.

Nature could feel grief, could feel anger.

And, oh, how angry Fauna had been.

She had taken a millennia to start talking to it again, even longer to be hospitable once more. Not that it minded, not at all. It had its duties to attend to, as always, it had not time for the others, no matter how much The Other had begged it to come with it to see Fauna, no matter how insistent The Speaker had been in getting them to reconcile.

There was nothing for Fauna to apologise for. Nor did it. It had done its duty. Of course, Fauna may have been too attached to her creations, but it certainly had not say in the matter, not when it had not creations of its own. How could it know how Fauna had been feeling, how confusing of a moment it had been?

It could not know that. It would never know that.

Besides, it knew she wouldn’t stay like this. They would eventually be fine, they would have to be.

So it stayed away, as it had before, as it had always been.

The others changed, in the span of their falling out, if it could be called that. They hadn’t had anything before, it felt strange calling it that, but that is what Fauna had decided to call it. The Falling Out. Like it was some big, universe-altering event.

But, it still saw the other two, felt their presence in its surroundings.

The Other was not The Other anymore. She was Baelz.

The Speaker was similarly changed. Now she was known as Sana.

Not that it meant anything to The Gods. They were still what they had always been.

It did not know the reason behind the change. Much like it did not know Fauna’s reason behind her immediate assurance of who she was. It still wasn’t certain.

They grew to speak, properly, like Fauna. They grew to know each other, they talked, danced, sang, laughed, all while it continued with its order, controlling its domain. It could not rest, not like them. The Warden could not leave anything unattended to.

The Keeper had not stayed the same, of course she hadn’t. While her focus was mostly staying on her own little planet, it had heard The Speaker talk of her growing influence, spreading into her domain, not really invading, rather, accompanying each other.

It wasn’t sure why, but it did not know most things. It’s own control rested solely on function. That was what it was for. It was The Warden, and nothing more.

But they were not like it. They were not The Other and The Speaker anymore. They were like Fauna.

And it was still it. It was still The Warden.

That was for the best, in the end. No use being distracted with names and titles when it needed to continue moving on.

So it stayed away, kept to itself for as long as Fauna wanted it to for it had endless tasks to complete until it found itself being surrounded by The Other and The Speaker.

What do you require me for, Speaker? It inquired, clicking as it turned its head to face the other being, now in a more visible form, though she still flickered in and out of its view.

She and The Other had to speed up to catch its ever-moving form, still travelling to the call it was answering. They had had to look far and wide to find a piece of it that slowed just enough for them to talk to. Luckily this part of it folded its wings back against its body, allowing them to catch up, a small mercy given that they were already tired, well, as tired as beings such as themselves could be.

“It’s Sana, Warden.” She corrected, folding a pair of her countless appendages, the shimmering air shifting to the side as she cocked her head. “Baelz and I are here to tell you that Fauna would like to talk with you.”

Well, please tell her I cannot. I have too much to keep watch over.

“You went to Earth when the first of her creations had died, though.” Baelz sped to the space between its eyes, sitting on it’s snout.

Only because it was a new call. Those duties are left to Death, now.

“You can still split yourself up.” Sana said.

Well, she had caught it there.

“Just go talk to her, Warden.”

Fauna does not like me. It admitted. I will not intrude on her domain if she is uncomfortable with my presence.

“She was the one who requested this. Please, just go.”

It sighed, an awful, creaking sort of sound. It wished it could be silent, why was it the only one of the four that could not stop the noise? It would be so much easier to disappear and hide from the others, from The Gods. It was content with being alone.

Fine. It acquiesced. I will visit her soon.

“We shall tell her of your upcoming arrival. Be safe.”

“Bye!”

And they left.

What a strange farewell.

Be safe.

When had they picked that up? Where?

Fauna, most likely. Most definitely, actually.

So it finished attending to it’s domain, and split once more, slithering over to Fauna’s planet, what did they call it, Earth. Everything had changed since it had angered The Keeper.

It shrank down, coiling around a tree to watch the being, meeting her eyes.

“Warden?”

Fauna.

“Why are you hiding?” She stepped closer.

It tried not to cringe back further into the shadows of the leaves.

I am not. It is comfortable here.

“Well,” she blinked, tilting her head. There was no sound when she did it, only the faint rustle of her fur. “Can I at least see you better?”

It slid along the bark to an outstretched branch at Fauna’s eye level, lifting its head.

Does this satisfy you?

“I-it does, thank you.”

The air was thick, heavy, and The Warden could almost feel it sinking down onto its speckled scales, keeping it trapped against the rough surface under its belly.

What did she want to talk about? What was there to even say?

“…Um, I just-” She sucked in a deep breath. “I apologise for driving you off, Warden.”

It stared.

What.

“You were just doing what you were supposed to and I yelled at you for it.”

Well I wouldn’t call it yelli-

“And I have been angry at you for so long when you were just doing what you had to. And I shouldn’t have been, and I disrupted your duties, which was not becoming of me.”

Fauna reared up, resting a front hoof against the trunk of the tree and resting her snout in front of it’s own, meeting its eyes.

“I know you didn’t understand how it felt, I know you can’t. Sana’s stars and suns burn and fade. My creations die and get reclaimed by the dirt. I’m sure if Baelz wanted she could make something, if she stopped terrorising our domains for her own amusement that is. You do not have that. You don’t have creations of your own.”

It ground its teeth together, feeling its elongated fangs pricking the flesh of its mouth. Painless, of course, after all, why would it feel anything.

Thank you for the reminder, Fauna.

She looked almost apologetic at the idea it had nothing of it’s own. Like it was her fault for the extent of its abilities.

“Forgive me for not considering that fact. I was blinded in my own emotions, and I am sorry for that.” She rubbed her cheek against the branch, causing it to sway slightly under the pressure as her antler brushed against its body.

It felt strange, being touched by another, having its form be physical enough for another to interact with it, to be able to feel it.

It is alright, Fauna. You have nothing to apologise for. You did nothing wrong.

She pulled back. “Even if that is what you believe, still, allow me to give you a gift.”

Ah, no. No, it is fine. You have no need-

“Consider it a gift from a-” The Keeper paused, ears flattening and amber eyes darting to the side. “Perhaps a gift from a friend, then? If not for an apology?”

Friend.

What is that?

“Someone you care for.”

So it was a someone now.

Fauna just could not see it as what it truly was, could she?

“I- I would say I care about you. I care about Sana and Baelz, they are my friends. If you… If you feel the same, I would like to be friends with you, as well.”

It did not know if it cared for Fauna, not at the time the proposal was offered, but it knew it held no ill will towards her, the same as it felt towards the other two. They were all born into existence for the same purpose, they were all put together by The Gods. It was hard not to see them as equals.

I suppose… I suppose we are ‘friends’ then. It hummed the thought out to the other being, and her eyes brightened to a warm glow.

She shuffled, dipping her head and starting to back away. “Stay here, I shall go collect him!”

Him?

It couldn’t voice its confusion quick enough, and just watched her gallop away into the trees, still resting on the branch.

What a strange being Fauna was. She had changed so much of, well, everything, since she had come into a corporeal existence. She had changed The Speaker and The Other, had made them different, new. And it was still the same as it always had been, as it always will be.

Perhaps it would change too, if it stayed around Fauna more. Perhaps it wouldn’t. It couldn’t imagine it changing. It’s domain wasn’t one for change, not like Baelz’s or Sana’s. Or Fauna’s.

“Here!”

It shook its head, coming back into itself to spot The Keeper reared up to rest her snout properly against the wood in front of it, a tiny white creature curled around her antler.

What…?

The thing flicked its tongue, mouth opening in a yawn to reveal tiny needle-sharp fangs.

It- he- looked a lot like it.

“I made him like you, so he can be with you. I know you seem to prefer your own company, but perhaps another life by your side would be nice.”

He wriggled, slithering across Fauna’s snout to rub against its nose.

Its wings twitched at the sensation.

He’s… cute.

She smiled, a quiet giggle slipping out.

It wanted to question the longevity of this small creature’s life, how quickly it would be before he would lay limp and still, but, seeing her shining eyes squinted with delight, it stayed quiet, simply observing the little thing with interest.

What do you call it? I know you name all your creations.

“Ah, I was wondering if, well, if you would want to name his species. Or him, both I guess.”

It hummed, rearing up with a faint hissing accompaniment to look at the animal in more detail.

Well, it reckoned the better way to look at this was what it would want to be called, given that it was modelled after The Warden’s preferred design, though its wings were absent on the creation. Perhaps Fauna hadn’t noticed that aspect of its form.

I suppose… You could call it a serpent, if you wish.

Fauna shook her mane, trilling quietly. “Wonderful!”

Wonderful. Perhaps it was. The Keeper had described it as such on some of their meetings. Maybe it was wonderful, in her view. Though, it most definitely wasn’t in reality. Not that it would voice this.

Whether or not it was ‘wonderful’ was not important in its ability to complete the tasks required of it. It was not ‘wonderful’, juts as it wasn’t important in the same sense as the others. It wasn’t a grand concept, able to create and feel and wonder. It just kept them functioning.

I think I will need more thought before bestowing him his name.

“And I will eagerly await for the news!” She nudged its side with her nose before bending a leg and bowing her head, trotting away to tend to her domain and leaving it with the newly dubbed ‘serpent’.

It was a strange encounter with The Keeper, but not the strangest, it would soon learn.

Fauna had many questions, many thoughts and ideas, and The Warden found it hard to keep up on occasion. Perhaps if it had been like Baelz or Sana, it would have been able to understand and answer, converse on these matters, but alas, it was not them.

However, for the most part, it did not have to worry about this. They had agreed on a schedule of when to come together, to abandon their duties for a while to inform each other of the happenings they experienced, extending from trivial matters up to cosmic events.

It would say its piece, orderly and curt, simple, then stay curled in the shade of the leaves, listening to the others talk.

It did feel it was out of place, surrounded by all the chatter and laughter, but it stayed all the same. The one time it tried to leave hadn’t gone according to plan.

“Where are you going?” It froze in place, blinking and turning back to face the others with a series of clicks.

I have shared my part. I am taking my leave now.

“Noo.” Baelz whined, darting across the clearing and hopping up to cling to its face, staring deep into its eyes. “Don’t leave, we were having fun!”

It shrunk back in surprise, shaking its head slightly to try and dislodge the little being, to no avail.

My duties call. It tried to argue.

“So do ours, Warden.” Sana leaned against the trunk of its resting tree, reaching a hand up to rest against its scaled body.

For a formless deity, she somehow emitted a warmth, almost burning. How strange. It rarely felt much in general, but particularly when it came to pain. Perhaps that was Fauna’s influence.

“Just stay, for a little while. This is for us. And that includes you.”

I have nothing to add. It protested weakly.

“That does not matter.” It scrunched its snout as Baelz nuzzled into it, narrowly avoiding her red fur from poking its eyes. “We like having you around, even if you don’t say much.”

“We are all beings of the same purpose, after all.” Fauna flicked her tail. “We were all brought into form by The Gods to watch over our domains. We are connected, whether you like it or not Warden.”

She trotted over, giving it a lick on the top of its head. “You’re stuck with us. So stay.”

And it did.

It still questioned whether it was truly invited, or if it was just out of principle, courtesy, to give a sense of togetherness. But it stayed nonetheless.

But, as often as they met for ‘fun’, they were also brought together by The Gods, dragged against their wills to meet in that endless space that not even Sana could find the walls of, made to share the grisly details of their work, every loss, every gain.

Much like in their unofficial gatherings, The Warden had little to say. What was there to share when Faunas creations fell to a famine out of her control, or when moons collide and Sana has to clean the aftermath, or even when Baelz begs for forgiveness from her uncontrollable outbursts that result in disease and decay.

There was nothing of note.

Not to the levels of the others.

All it did was watch and wait, keep things moving, make sure nothing slowed to a stop unless they were meant to.

Yes, it had seen stars die, it had seen planets crumble into dust, it had seen animals and plants wither and rot into the dirt. But that was all routine, expected. Why should it state the obvious when the others already knew.

So it just said one thing at every meeting.

Everything is running as expected.

The others did not press. They learned not to. That was the extent of its updates and that was enough for them.

Their duties were to create, to dream and to destroy. The Warden’s duty was to keep it all operating.

But The Gods did not accept that. That was not of use to ‘The Council’, as they called it. It was not useful to its fellow Council members to learn nothing.

So it started sharing every mundane detail, every dead creature, every storm and broken star, every comet that flew past and fallen tree. Every birth of life and encounter with death.

And they listened. They heard its stories with rapt attention, fully engaged until the end.

It did not know why they liked hearing it so much, frankly it found it a droll, and it had to force itself to finish its reports most of the time, wishing for it to end as soon as possible. The others were much more interesting to listen to.

But it shared, and they listened, and The Gods were appeased, so all was well.

The only unfortunate outcome of the situation was that they pressed for more in their unofficial meetings, asking about its ‘adventures’ and all the ‘fun’ things it got up to.

It did not know what they found ‘fun’ about its stories, they were the same kind it would relay in the official gatherings, but it told them anyhow, it seemed to please them, so it would continue talking in every gathering, official or otherwise.

“I’ve noticed something about you, Warden.” Fauna glanced at it as it watched her scratch her scales against the bark.

The other two hadn’t been able to make it, an emergency supernova requiring both their attention, mainly due to Baelz actually being the one to facilitate it without realising the extent of the destruction and now she was panicking.

Nothing new or unusual, just bad timing.

It did mean it was alone with The Keeper for the first time since their reconciliation.

And that is?

“Your scales. They’re not black.”

It blinked. Aren’t they?

“They’re not. They’re blue, a dark blue, yes, but blue nonetheless.”

The Warden stretched its wings, coiling comfortably back around the branch, sinking into the furrows that had formed over the decades.

They are dark enough to blend in. I would say it does not matter if they are black or blue, they serve their purpose well.

Fauna cocked her head, earnest confusion melding into her soft voice. “Why would you want to do that?”

It couldn’t answer.

They sat in silence for the rest of their meeting, only speaking again to bid each other a farewell, before they returned to their duties once more.

It did not think it needed to explain it, but she had caught it off guard regardless. Just by the sheer absurdity.

Why wouldn’t it need to blend in, to hide away? What was so wrong about that?

It was not sure if the others would understand that. They all had creations, or, well, destruction in Baelzs’ case, they had something of theirs that existed. It did not have that. So why would it need to be perceived when it was not needed. Being seen was not of use, it did not help it complete its duties faster or with greater efficiency.

But that was unique to it, and so, it did not say this. Fauna would not understand that. None of them would. There was not point in trying to convince them of the truth.

But things continued on the same as always. The others changed, The Warden did not, and they kept meeting, kept talking, kept doing their duties as The Warden, The Keeper, The Speaker and The Other.

And then that changed as well.

For they were summoned once more, pulled across the vast expanses of the universe and beyond to stand in front of The Gods, lined up like a sentencing would occur.

They beckoned Baelz closer, and she padded forward, unable to stop herself under their piercing gazes.

The Warden ran its tongue over its fangs, hearing Fauna’s anxious shuffling as her hooves tapped against the floor.

Sana stayed silent.

You.

Baelz trembled, and it could see her fighting not to bolt.

It was never a good thing to be called on individually by The Gods. The Warden used to believe it was just overly cautious of them, they were, apart from Baelz, the few beings that could evade its detection. It never knew what they were going to do, never heard whispers in her head on what would occur when they were involved.

Perhaps they had grown tired of the being’s constant meddling and destructive nature. It couldn’t see why they would hate her for that. It was her domain, after all. Yes, she interfered with the others, made their duties more difficult to carry out, but it would never hold that over The Other, nor, did it think, would Sana and Fauna.

It was what she was made for, in the end.

“Ye”- Yes?

We have chosen you to represent The Council.

What?

It reared up as silent as it could be, staring intently. Baelz shifted from her preferred form, inspired by one of Faunas little critters, zipping up to try and get a closer look at The Gods.

What do you mean?

It shall be your duty to report back to us when we cannot be present. It will be your responsibility to guide and keep your fellow members of The Council in line, and keep them properly overseeing their domains.

The Warden could feel their eyes shift to it momentarily. It’s serpent companion burrowed further behind its jaw, hiding from the searing judgement.

Now what had it done wrong? Why was it being dragged into this?

You are now The Leader.

She seemed completely frozen solid, limbs stiff and drawn into her body as they reached out, a disturbance of the air the only confirmation of the movement.

Do not disappoint us.

Again, it felt their eyes on it for a brief instance.

Then they dissipated, leaving the four alone as Baelz trembled, collapsing to the ground before them.

“Bae?” Sana muttered, rushing to cradle the being in a pair of her cupped hands, using a third to gently scratch behind her small ears.

Fauna followed quick behind, kneeling her front legs to nudge her side.

I can’t- I don’t want to- to be- She shoved her face under her paws, scratching furiously at her large, round ears.

The Warden slunk across the floor, unnoticed as the years turned the screeching grind of its movements into white noise.

It did not know why the other being was acting like this, why this title, this role, made her so afraid, but it did not matter.

It’s friend was in distress.

That was all the information it needed.

It felt Baelz flinch under its touch, but it stayed in its place, bringing the end of its shrinking body around to curl up, using its chin to pull her carefully from Sana’s hold into its coils and laying its head on her back.

Ward-?

It huffed. Stop talking.

It tried not to pay any attention to the stares it was receiving from the other two, instead putting more pressure down onto The Other, well, The Leader now, it supposed.

It could feel the little serpent worm its way to sit on top of its head, kicked out of its usual resting place due to Baelz. It wriggled around before settling back down, yawning audibly.

I can’t be a leader. I can’t do this, not even for The Gods, I- I just-

“We can figure it out, Bae. We can figure it out.” It almost sounded as if Fauna was trying to reassure herself along with Baelz, but The Warden stayed quiet, keeping as still as it was able to.

It would not be of help in the area of comfort, but perhaps its presence would make up for its lack of… well, everything else.

It did not understand why Baelz had been chosen, why she suddenly had a duty to fulfil, a responsibility to uphold. Why now? And why her? Why the most unreliable, the most destructive, the most impulsive of the quartet? Why was she put in charge of the Council, why was she the one who would now hold the most correspondence with The Gods?

Why did they even need a leader at all?

It did not seem to be a fitting time to voice it’s thoughts, not while it could feel Baelz’s violent shaking as her fur brushed against its coils. so it kept silent on its confusion.

It was cruel, in The Warden’s eyes, to cage a being with no purpose, to suddenly leash Chaos by its throat, to keep it by their side, wrapped in a golden chain none could see.

That opinion never changed, and it never would.

But it had come to learn, as they continued forth with each other, why The Gods had entrusted the position of The Leader to Baelz.

She was, at least to The Warden’s knowledge, the only one of the others that had influence over its domain in the same way it had over its fellow Council members.

Perhaps that is why she was the one given that accursed key hanging from around her neck, in plain view of it, while having no knowledge of what it meant.

It would curse The Gods forever for that, yanking it from the depths of the universe, wrapping its form in scorching hot chains as it thrashed and screamed, caught like a feral beast in a snare.

It would always remember those chains burning into what could be described as its flesh, cutting grooves into its body, melding into its form. That was the first time it had felt pain.

And it, like Baelz, was collared, shackled to The Gods’ sides until the end of everything. Just, this time, it’s leash was visible, constricting its form into a weakened shell of what it used to be.

Something dangerous, all-knowing, all-powerful, should not be left without guidance. That is what they said.

It is an honour, they said, to be chosen for our personal attention. You should be proud, Warden.

All excuses, it knew. They were afraid of The Warden. They always had been, and that fear had taken over. And it was suffering for it.

It would replay that moment forever in it’s consciousness, even as other memories and events fade away, that one would be seared into it for eternity.

It would always remember watching, hidden away in the shadows, silent, frozen, as they called to the other being and draped that stupid key around her neck.

That stupid fucking key.

She had shown it off as soon as she could in their routine Council meeting, waving it in their faces, that smug toothy grin taking over her face as she announced her importance with an air of pride masking the obvious fear and nervousness of being granted such an ‘honour’.

The Warden just grit its fangs and stayed silent, feeling Boros nuzzle his small snout into its cheek, forked tongue licking its scales in a cheap attempt of comfort.

It avoided the others completely for a century until The Gods summoned them all once more.

They had called to it first, wrenching it to the ground in front of their feet with those damned chains and cuffs, snarling cold vitriol in its face as it lay curled and limp, the rhythmic ticking staying as constant as always despite the ringing and stuttering creaks that betrayed its agitation.

It could not remember the details of what they said, of what they did, it must not have been that important if it had forgotten.

But it had bowed its head all the same, keeping its mouth shut as they called for the others, watching them materialise, watching their eyes light up one by one with anger and joy at its appearance, watching their forms tremble with restraint as they turned to face The Gods instead of rushing toward it.

Watching that golden key dangle from the ribbon around Baelz’s neck. Her own little collar.

It never did tell what had happened, and, as everything carried on, as the moment got lost in its memories, it did not bother.

It was not important.

It was not worth telling the others.

It did not need worry them with something so trivial. After all, it had just been a correction, a reminder of its place amongst the others, it had been neglecting its duties as part of The Council, it was only right, only fair to rectify its error.

The only time anything remotely related to its new… impediments was when Baelz barrelled into it after that meeting, where The Warden had escaped as soon as it could, trying not to broadcast its embarrassment and shame at The God’s correction and harsh treatment.

She had halted it in its tracks by the unexpectedness of her interruption. It had gotten used to the other’s interference, it was in her nature, but it always came as a surprise. She was always a lot more interested in wreaking havoc in Sana and Fauna’s domains.

Besides, it used to be too fast to catch up to most of the time. Used to be.

“Where did you go?” She rubbed her cheek against it, ears flattening against its scales. Her voice was barely above a whisper.

It ground its teeth at the feeling of cold metal touching its form, the grooves of the key imprinting against the skin of its body. It was so close, it could just tell Baelz, she would free it in an instant.

All it needed to do was ask.

Did you miss me that much?

She jerked her head up to blink angrily at it, eyes shining wetly.

“Fifty hang outs! Fifty! You just left us! I asked The Gods! That’s how worried I was about you, how worried we were! How could you just- You-” She stuttered, resorting to nipping it in frustration.

It bit its tongue at the sting. It had been in pain a lot more regularly, as of late.

It wondered if, eventually, the injuries sustained would leave a mark.

I apologise.

“Why did you not come?” Baelz said, the words coming out muffled as her tiny paws hugged at it, digging in with her blunt claws.

“Is it because of your… the new…” She trailed off.

The Warden flicked the tip of its tail, the grinding ticks skipping a beat, giving it away.

My duties called. I am sorry, I could not ignore them.

“It’s The Gods, isn’t it.” She stated rather than asked. “They’re keeping you away from us, that’s what it is!”

Her tail lashed wildly behind her, red fur bristling.

“They can’t do that! They can’t keep you from us!”

They are not! It hurried to clear up the misunderstanding. They were not pleased with me avoiding you either!

“They… then why didn’t they let me know? Why- Why not-” She paused, going still.

Then she grew, her form distending and pushing outwards until she matched its size, baring her numerous rows of sharp teeth.

“What have they been doing, Warden?” She spoke lowly, too even, too calm.

It would never admit to it, but it was starting to get unnerved.

Baelz was many things. Oblivious was not one of them, at least, not when it came to The Council.

The Gods have not been in contact with me, Baelz. I have just been continuing with my duties as always.

Her eyes flicked to the chains buried into its body. It was sure they constricted ever so slightly at the attention.

“Warden-”

I apologise, it cut her off, for neglecting our gatherings together, and I will not miss our next ones, I promise you that.

“But-”

I have calls to answer. I wish you well.

It darted off before she could respond, still the fastest of the four despite the hinderances placed upon it.

It couldn’t let them worry. Not when there was nothing amiss.

It went to their next gathering, hidden under the shade in its designated spot, the grooves less prominent after the years of disuse. It settled into them like nothing had happened.

Baelz kept quiet about their conversation, and, it seemed, she had told the others not to worry either, given how normal they were all acting, as if nothing had changed, as if it had been at every meeting prior.

No one mentioned the cuffs attached to its neck and tail, no one brought up the metal carving into its body, no one talked about The Gods and the key and Baelz’s responsibility.

Sometimes, long into the future, in the dead of the night, when everyone else had piled together to sleep behind it as it continued its work, still in the same room to keep it company, it wished they had asked. It wished they would have demanded to know.

But they did not, and it did not share, and then it became too late to tell them. And, even if it could not hear that hush of information rushing past its ear and into its consciousness, it knew they would never ask.

But, if it ever came up, somehow, it would spill everything in a heartbeat. Perhaps it was good they had never asked.

They continued on as they always had, with the small exception that Baelz started occasionally tagging along with it whenever she was bored. Sana too, whenever her duties happened to be in the same direction.

It wasn’t sure why they wanted to, but it let them. It knew Fauna would too, if her domain expanded beyond her planet. Perhaps, in the future, it would. But, for now, it seemed she was content with her territory.

But, they kept having their meetings, sometimes with all present, sometimes with just two or three.

It was on one such occasion where The Warden was asked a question.

“Would you ever consider thinking of a name to use?”

Sana stretched, drifting along with the wind and dancing around playfully in the clearing. The other two couldn’t make it, with Fauna looking into a disturbance in the ground and Baelz being summoned for ‘Leader shit’ as she referred to it.

It had not spent much time alone with Sana, even in that empty stretch before their Leader, they had not interacted much. Perhaps that was its own fault, it had not felt the need, or the want, to reach out, having been too invested in its own domain.

No matter, it could make up for it now.

I have one, do I not? I am known as The Warden.

“That is a title, not a name. I am The Speaker, and yet you call me Sana. They are not the same.”

What is the difference? A title is used to refer to something, a name has the same purpose. What does it matter if my title doubles as a name?

“Well, I think it would be… nice. Despite your little companion not having a name, you do not call him a serpent, do you? Calling him Serpent feels distant, much like how calling me Speaker would feel impersonal. At least, I hope it would.” She joked, slinking closer and forming a hand from the ether to settle next to its head.

“We are friends. Friends have names, they have altered names. Baelz is also Bae, Fauna is Faufau. And yet, you-”

She gave it a soft tap on the nose, the shimmering air barely making contact with its scales, stroking a line up to its forehead to brush against its cheek, rubbing against the sunken scar.

It’s injuries had started becoming permanent, ever since The Gods decided it was too unrestricted for its own good.

“You are a friend, and you do not have a name, we have nothing we can make our own.”

She changed once more, coiling her body around the branch in a misty mimicry of it’s own form, barely visible in the sunlight.

“So, Warden, do you think I could call you something different, eventually?”

It stayed quiet for a moment, the silence only broken by the rustle of the undergrowth and that ever-present ticking that came with its presence.

...Perhaps, eventually.

It did not think of something to call itself until the final member of their Council came into being.

The Guardian.

And with her, civilisation.

It stayed quiet as she stumbled her way into existence, watching on as her domain brought on inventions, wondrous ideas that sprouted from her mind, endless ventures and thoughts that flowed, filling up pages and pages of her unrelenting documentation with a fervour so fast it could barely make sense of it all. But it kept up, it had to, it always would, no matter what.

The Guardian’s ‘birth’, if it could be called that, had caused a bit of tension between the new one and Fauna. It was only natural, considering how intertwined their domains appeared to be. Each choice one made affected the other, it seemed.

And, for Fauna, that change was rarely good.

What was once Fauna’s creation had turned against her, taking control of her grain and food, defying their Keeper. She was accepting of the nature of beasts, always fighting for survival, of course she was, but it was something else entirely.

And The Guardian was in charge of that.

It was confusing, why The Gods had put two clashing domains directly on top of one another. Baelz was definitely enjoying it, at least, when she wasn’t occupied with trying to get The Guardian and Fauna to make peace with one another.

Then she would feel awful about enjoying it.

“I shouldn’t be, though!” She chattered anxiously as she rode the crown of its head, sitting in the centre of the ring of scars.

For some unknown reason, she had taken to accompanying it on its duties, finding a designated sitting place that she squabbled over with its white companion.

He was currently sulking to himself, wrapped around the metal cuff seated at the base of its skull.

Why?

“Because!”

That does not explain anything, Baelz.

It could almost hear her eyes rolling.

“I am The Leader, Warden! I can’t be laughing while two members tear each other apart!”

Why not? It flapped its wings, propelling itself further before folding them once more to lie flat, veering to avoid running into a nearby solar system. It is your domain, is it not? Why can’t you indulge in your own instinct?

“Not if it hurts the others.”

You have wiped out Fauna’s species before, you’ve exploded stars and swallowed planets.

You have my freedom in your hands.

And yet they do not hold it over you. They know it is not something you can control. Fauna cannot control if an animal kills another, Sana cannot control if moons collide. They cannot control every aspect of their domains, they just watch over them.

“But you can. I’ve seen it, even if I can’t feel your effect.” She argued, scuttling down to its snout to pout in its eyeline, puffing up her fur until the black roots were visible.

I cannot control my own domain. It said evenly. I cannot stop it from moving. I cannot slow it or speed it up. I can see far into the past and ahead into what lies in front of us, but I cannot stop it.

It used to. Not anymore.

Not that it would, with the others. Everything would run its course.

Her ears drooped, and she sunk down, curling her tail tightly around.

Do not fret, friend. Fauna most definitely does not hate you for finding this conflict fun. And if The Guardian does, then she will soon learn not to.

A scream sounded out from the depths of the dark, followed with another shriek of rage.

They both knew who the two the sounds came from were.

It dipped its head, letting the being slide gently off its nose to float in front of it.

Farewell, Baelz. You will figure it out, don’t worry. If The Gods punish you for this conflict, I will not stand for it.

And it left.

It had meant what it said, and it had followed through with it in their next meeting, when they had called for the five to join once more, it slithered down into that dreaded room, catching sight of Baelz standing stiffly on her designated throne, one they rarely used until recently.

Her right ear was torn.

It clenched its fangs, feeling a drop of venom sear the inside of its mouth.

The others came before it could say or do anything, so it kept quiet, seething silently the entire session, tuning out Fauna and The Guardians relentless fights, paying no mind to Sana’s quiet worrying, eyes fixated upon Baelz’s trembling figure and ripped ear until the end.

It muttered out a quick goodbye to the others, waiting for them to leave, still seated.

“W-Warden?”

Bae.

Her nose twitched at the sound of her nickname slipping out of its mouth.

“Wh-?”

You can leave, Warden. It hissed, baring its fangs and rattling the tip of its tail at The Gods’ interruption.

The Warden twisted, wings flaring out just slightly, only for the chains to snap taut, forcing it silent.

This is between us and your Leader.

And yet, this concerns The Council. It growled, slapping its tail against the hard surface of the throne. The sound echoed.

Do not meddle, Warden.

It is not your place to determine how Baelz fixes the tension between Fauna and The Guardian.

It could feel their attention bearing down on it, the metal wrapped around its body burning intensely, gold blazing white with heat.

Leave us, Chaos.

She jerked up, eyes wide with terror.

But-

Their gazes snapped to her and her ears flattened against her skull.

It needed to draw their focus back.

You do not spend enough time with us to know how to resolve this conflict. It is your fault- It swallowed at the feeling of fluid leaking from the gashes opening below the chains. That had never happened before.

Warden, Baelz begged, please just-

It is your fault, it continued, that the two domains clash as much as they do, that you just threw them together without so much as a single thought on how to account for the tension. If you know so much, why don’t you fix it? Why don’t you bring those two here and have them fix this your way, instead of haranguing our Leader for something she cannot control.

The air rushed past it as one of them leaned down, eyes piercing into its own. It forced itself not to cringe away. They would only do worse if it did.

We do not do that because your Leader should be competent enough to do what it is supposed to. It spat out contemptuously.

So let her.

The space rumbled.

It backed away, all turning from them.

Remember your place, Warden. And fix this soon, Chaos. The Council cannot be disharmonious.

Baelz’s ear did not heal.

Sana had fretted over their wounds, dragging Fauna from her planet to try and heal them, The Guardian following along with a pensiveness masked by morbid curiosity.

It was the first time the two had been civil with each other, testing different herbs and contraptions.

But nothing worked.

In the end, The Guardian bound her ear together with one of her human’s inventions, the thin metal bar keeping it place. A mousetrap, she had called it.

It kept quiet, tending to its wounds by itself as they fussed over their Leader, brushing away any concern with a quick reassurance, its white serpent keeping her company while it nursed the exposed interior of its form.

It doesn’t hurt, focus on Bae.

The Warden and Baelz never told the others what happened after they went their separate ways, what The Gods had said, what they had witnessed.

And it kept quiet about the key.

She did not need to feel more responsible than she already did.

When the others had left them, alone in the comfort of each other’s company, she had cried, clinging to its scales and shoving her muzzle into the underside of its jaw as she sobbed and wailed.

It had stayed silent, forked tongue flicking out to lick at her pelt, keeping her tightly contained in its coils, muttering out as many assurances as it could between her repeating babbles of ‘sorry’s and ‘forgive me’s.

It had stayed until Sana noticed the stillness in the space and came, venturing far out to envelop their leader in her hands and hugging her close to her chest, safe and secure. It split, leaving a part with the two and traversing towards Fauna and The Guardian’s domains.

It would help Bae.

It slipped through the woods, tasting the air until it found a trail left by the newest member.

While it took a lot of concentration, it changed from its preferred form to take on one more akin to the humans that made up The Guardian’s civilisations.

It rolled out its shoulders, muscles rippling under its skin as it brushed off any dried fluid, blood was the closest thing it could compare it to, it supposed, chains hiding the pale blue of of its scars under their unyielding metal.

It stepped through the bushes, batting at the vines and thorns that threatened to snag its skin, and bending down to pluck a flower from the ground.

Guardian.

She started, whipping around her head to face it. Her body stayed pointing away from it.

Yes? You are the Warden, right? She blinked, tilting her head to the side.

It nodded.

You look... different. She gave it a once over, then turned to face her entire form to it.

I thought it would be more pleasing to be in a more familiar form for our first proper introduction. It held out the flower, purple petals almost glowing in the sun.

Its fingers were still clawed and inhuman, covered in patches of speckled scales that glinted when it caught the dappled light. It hoped that wouldn’t put the other being off too much. It had tried its best to replicated her humans, but, alas, it had not seen them enough to perfect the form, nor had it really tried before. It had tried to avoid the planet since The Guardian came into existence.

Her expression soured, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of the gift. Why would you offer a thing of hers?

It cocked its head. Why not? It is pretty, isn’t it?

I do not care if it looks nice. She said, arms folding across her chest. It is hers.

Its arm dropped down to its side.

So she was an emotional being as well.

Of course, all of them had emotions, it had come to learn. But not all felt them as strongly as another. The Warden was not as subject to its emotions as Fauna, and, apparently, The Guardian.

It made sense, the two beings who had the most independent and emotional creations would share attributes of their domains. How unfortunate that their domains were at odds with each other.

Now it knew why their quarrelling was so hard to stop. No wonder Bae was stressed.

You do not like it on the sole basis that it is hers? Are your humans not originally her creations?

The Guardian bristled, the feathers coating her neck fluffing out. Well they aren’t hers anymore, are they?! She snapped.

It ducked, leaning forward. They used to be.

She shook her head, hair flying wildly as a hissing filled the air between them.

Why don’t you like Fauna? It pressed, taking a step forward.

Because she hates me! I didn’t start this!

She does not like you because you are taking control of her domain. I know you do not want to hear it, it is in your instinct to let your domain thrive, but not at the expense of another.

She opened her mouth to argue, but it moved on before she could.

You both affect each other, you are more intertwined than the others, but you need to control your humans. They are losing respect for their Keeper in order to honour their Guardian.

Her hands clenched into fists, and it held out the flower once more.

I do not mind indulging in your instincts, just as I do not mind Baelz’s desire to destroy. And I know that Fauna holds no ill will towards Baelz’s hurricanes and earthquakes because of that reason. But you keep venturing too far. You have not been around for as long as us, you do not know. But you need to learn.

But The Keeper-

She needs to not take it to heart, yes. It agreed. But she is an emotional being, as are you. She needs to think things through, and I will speak with her, but you need to rein yourself in.

She glared, but snatched the flower from its claws to grip in her own talons.

It turned, already starting to shift back into its preferred appearance. It seemed it couldn’t hold this form that well. It would need to practise.

Farewell, Guardian.

Farewell, Warden. She forced out through gritted teeth.

It disappeared into the undergrowth, collapsing into its regular form to find The Keeper.

It didn’t take long to find her, what with the trail of wilting plants and rot she left in her wake. She was laying against the base of its tree, head resting on a gnarled root.

Its companion shot forward to wrap around one of her antlers, resting his head in a crook. She didn’t seem to be all that surprised or bothered by the sudden invasion.

The Warden curled around her neck, burrowing its head into the mane. It was really warm.

“Hello, Warden.”

It hummed, nudging under her chin to coil up tightly in the crook of her neck, tucking itself in.

You have not been yourself, Fauna.

It felt her throat bob as she swallowed.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for mine and The Guardian’s conflict to get Bae so stressed. I’m sure you haven’t been enjoying this much either.” She murmured, sweeping around to bump it with her nose.

She examined its injuries, no longer bleeding, looking closely at the myriad of twisting marks and fresh openings.

“Why has this been happening to you?”

Do not worry, it won’t happen to you. Not unless The Gods came after her as well.

“That is not what I said, is it?” She smiled playfully, though her words were laced with a sorrow that seeped out into the atmosphere around them.

It does not hurt. I can still look after my domain. Nothing will come to harm from me.

She frowned, but just gave it another nudge, licking at the wounds hidden beneath the chains.

They lay in each other’s company, quietly listening to the gentle rasping of her tongue over the raw flesh.

You have been stressing Bae. She paused. You need to stop getting so angry at The Guardian.

Her tail whipped.

“...You are right.”

As I usually am.

She rolled her eyes. “I just- Humans have always been troublesome, they like experimenting, inventing, and, I’ll admit, perhaps that is my fault for letting them, but even when they were under my domain, I watched over them much more closely than The Guardian!”

You were also a lot more reckless when you first came into existence.

Her ears flattened.

You remember getting angry at me?

She cringed, letting out a mortified whine. “Don’t remind me. I was so embarrassed when I came to my senses.”

I don’t bring that up to torment you, I promise. It rubbed against her jaw, placating her.

I just mean to say that, you did a lot, you created a lot, you felt a lot. And you made mistakes. Let The Guardian do the same.

She groaned, flopping her head back onto the root with a huff.

She has crossed a line in letting them take control of your domain, and I have spoken to her about that. But let her find out how to be a Guardian first.

She blinked, then, without a word, lay the large, flat tuft of her tail over its body. The Warden took the action as an agreement.

“Our gathering should be soon, right?”

Yes.

They stayed in that position, as still as they could be, listening to the ticking and counting the beats, waiting for the others to slowly join their clearing.

The Guardian wouldn’t be attending, of course. With her being the newest, along with the conflict between her and Fauna, they had decided to keep their unofficial meetings a secret, at least until she had gotten used to her domain and everything had mellowed out.

That also meant none could bring up The Guardian, or anything regarding her.

Though, even without that, the atmosphere was still incredibly tense.

They sat in silence, waiting for someone to break it. The Warden most certainly wasn’t going to. And it knew Bae did not want to talk about it any more than it did.

It could feel the stares, at least on it, but whenever it opened its eyes, they were always looking elsewhere.

So, for that meeting, they did not talk, did not try to pretend everything was alright, just staying as close to each other as they could get.

It felt empty, without the fifth member, but they shouldered their way through.

The next one, they decided, they would bring her. Hopefully Fauna and her would sort it out before then.

It saw a lot of Bae during the wait, rather, The Gods made it so they saw each other a lot.

Apparently, they hadn’t been too pleased with its meddling, both directly after the Council meeting and with its conversations with The Keeper and The Guardian, and they had made their disapproval very clear.

For entities that claimed they did not feel, they sure acted like they did, what with their scathing remarks as they dangled the two by their necks.

Bae had her eyes squeezed shut, curling into herself under their piercing gaze. The Warden let itself hang. There was nothing much that could be done, and it needed to get back to its duties. It didn’t have the energy to care.

So The Warden has done what The Leader should have. It could always tell this one apart from the others. This particular God never seemed to care either.

It still isn’t certain whether they’ll calm down or not.

That may be so, however, your little Leader did not talk to them, did it?

She whimpered as it shook her, choking at the tugging collar. The ticking in its ears increased.

We are a Council. It argued. Why can’t I help bring peace?

It was forced to narrow its eyes against the sudden rush of wind, trying not to meet the face now in front of it.

That is not your job, Warden. The God hissed.

I am being affected by this conflict too! It retorted, baring its fangs. Why can I not be involved with my own Council?!

Your Leader needs to learn how to control itself! It snarled. And it appears you do as well.

It shot out as far as it could, snapping its jaws shut, venom spilling out from its teeth in a desperate attempt to… well, it wasn’t really sure what it was trying to do. It certainly couldn’t reach them, no matter how far it stretched its form, nor would The Gods ever let it harm them. It was just angry.

It was so angry, and hurt, and how dare they-

It didn’t matter what it felt in that moment. Honestly, nothing it had said or done really mattered at the end of it all.

Because they just tugged The Warden’s chains, fisted its wings in an invisible grip, and tore them out.

It could barely hear the sound of its form rending apart over Bae’s horrified shriek and the frantic screaming grind ringing in its ears.

It thrashed, whipping around to try and sink its teeth into anything it could reach, but it just twisted helplessly in the air, writhing by the neck like a fish on a hook.

It couldn’t hold its shape anymore, melting and dissolving into an amorphous mass in an attempt to contain the agony pounding at its back.

Do not try that again. It heard The God’s voice distantly over its strained gasps.

The Warden was dropped to the floor of the vast room, shuddering and collapsing as small as it could, fighting against the chains controlling its body. It did not know where it’s little companion was. It hoped he was safe.

Perhaps we made a mistake in choosing you as The Leader, Chaos. Do not prove us wrong in our decision.

They let her go too, and it heard her hit the ground with a sickening thud. It tried to force itself to solidify, to find enough strength to drag itself towards her, but it could not.

And Warden. It froze under their attention. Fix yourself, or we will.

It stayed silent, sealing off its vision and hearing, the only thing plaguing its senses being that deafening click repeating over and over.

It couldn’t bring itself to care anymore.

Later, when the fog had cleared, when they both had the courage to relive it, Bae would cling to its side, head buried in the hollow of its neck, hands brushing against the sunken scars ripping down its back.

And she would sob, telling it through teary, muffled cries how she had tried to touch it, to put it back together, shoving the discarded wings against its unclear form to try and reabsorb like it always did. She would tell it how her hands had passed right through it like it was air, how the still-twitching limbs just fell with a wet thump.

But it did not know it back then.

It just wallowed in its own pain, oblivious to anything around it, completely unaware.

Apparently The Gods had left soon after. Not before giving them both new adornments.

New chains. Silver this time.

And a new key attached to Bae’s neck.

It was still gold, still obnoxiously large for the beings small size, and, perhaps, she couldn’t even tell the difference. Maybe that was the point.

But The Warden could. It could feel the same taunting, the same mocking glow, and yet, it was crueler this time, louder. It’s scornful provocation cut deeper, drove it nearly mad with desperation.

Not like it would let Bae know that.

At least they had released them for their duties soon after.

They went to the next gathering side by side, quietly indulging in each others company.

The others noticed the change, of course they did. They saw almost everything. Almost, but not enough to ask.

It brushed them off, slithering up into its tree and curling up as tight as it could, hiding the raw exposed flesh as much as it could. Its scars were always hard to hide, the blue stood out so much against its dark scales that they were practically glowing, but it kept its mouth shut, burying its head into its coils.

No need for them to know.

But they could not have been able to pry like it was sure they would have, for The Guardian had come, sitting stiffly on a protruding root, head swivelling this way and that as she watched them all appear with wide eyes.

Of course, she had seen them all, they had had two Council meetings prior to this unofficial one, and she had definitely seen Baelz a lot during her attempts to quell her and Fauna’s arguments. It wasn’t too sure she had seen much of Sana though.

“Guardian.”

Keeper.

Their hostility froze the clearing, however, they stayed at their respective places, instead opting to stare at each other from across the space.

It was awkward, tense, but they managed, clumsily shoehorning the newest member into their conversations in such a bumbling fashion it made The Warden nearly cringe out of its skin.

But, as they turned to part ways once more, The Guardian waved a clawed hand, wings fluttering behind her. It averted its eyes at the sight, a sharp throb erupting from its body.

See you soon.

It blinked, feeling the air settle as the others fell silent, the words shocked out of their mouths.

Farewell, Guardian.

She smiled, then turned around and trampled through the undergrowth, crushing some brambles under her talons.

Fauna grumbled, nudging the vines back into place.

“So inelegant.”

It did not stay longer than it needed to. It had many things to catch up on when The Gods had corrected it.

It just needed to get it done, needed to stay busy.

Its back grew numb as it healed slowly, the damaged tissue twisting stiffly with every movement. No matter, it grew used to the toughness, and it wasn’t as if it hindered it massively. It was still fast, still dangerous. It could still watch over it's domain.

Warden?

Turning to face the being, it shifted to look more like her humans.

Guardian. It greeted her, watching her unfocused eyes laze over its face. I did not expect you to be out so far from your domain.

Am I? She frowned, scanning her surroundings. Oh.

Would you like me to guide you back? It grabbed her arm, tugging her gently back towards the direction of Earth.

Back where?

It cocked its head, brow furrowing. Just follow me.

She let herself be pulled. The warden would be faster in its usual form, but it did not think that would be the best option in front of the other being. It wasn’t entirely sure what had happened, but it wouldn’t ask. Perhaps she was just too far from the planet.

It called for Sana, sending a sliver of itself to alert The Speaker of the current predicament. She never took long. They hadn’t travelled far before it felt the vacuum around her change, a haze swirling around it and its precious cargo.

The Guardian didn’t seem to notice, still staring through that film of mist coating her eyes.

“What happened?”

Not sure. We found each other it seems.

It slithered forward, darting around a passing comet. It couldn’t go any quicker. If its wings were still there, or if it was rid of the blasted chains then perhaps, but this was the best it could do. The Guardian’s own feathered appendages could have aided them, if she had been present enough to remember they were attached to her.

I didn’t know if Bae would be too busy, and I figured Fauna would be… she’s too far anyway.

Sana lay a hand on The Guardian’s other arm without a word, solidifying her form into one that somewhat resembled a human. It seemed she did not practise this much either. At least she got it mostly accurate. Its own fingers still curled into sharp, scaled claws that it had to watch closely so as not to pierce the flesh under her hand.

Sana’s hands looked much nicer.

It was much faster with The Speaker helping, forcing the three of them through her domain at a greater speed than The Warden could have managed alone.

Ignoring the scars prickling on its back, it drifted down to the dirt, laying The Guardian to rest with the help of Sana.

“Guardian, are you alright?”

Her pupils dilated, latching onto the sight of the being. Oh, hi.

“Hi!” She smiled, cupping her face in her hands and getting her to meet her eyes.

Her wings fluttered, shuffling against the simple cloth covering her torso. A coo seemed to escape when Sana ran her thumbs against her jaw, eyelids falling shut at the sensation.

It backed away, throwing out a quiet farewell. It needed to find Fauna. Perhaps she knew what was going on with The Guardian’s civilisations.

It didn’t take long to find her, or the root issue causing this strange lapse in lucidity.

Fauna stood near the edge of a clifftop, gazing out over a small village with her hooves sinking into the dirt underneath her. All along the coastline lay broken infrastructure, splintered planks of wood rolling in the waves crashing against the rocks at the bottom of the steep drop off.

“It seems Bae has let loose a little.” The Keeper mused, stretching her arms out above her head. It seemed everyone was taking on a humanoid form at the moment. Briefly, The Warden wondered how their Leader would look.

“It was due to happen, there hasn’t been an event in a while. It was starting to get dull.”

At least they will learn for next time. It glanced at the bodies strewn across the sand and rocks, staining it with streaks of red. Some were still caught in the onslaught, smashing against the cliff face until they were nothing but pulp in the water.

“Well, you can’t blame them fully.” She moved to sit on the plateau, legs dangling off. “None can fully predict destruction apart from you.”

It hummed, opting to not correct her on its loss of foresight following The Gods intervention. She didn’t know, that was fine, she didn’t need to be told.

Still, I did not expect their Guardian to be wandering around on the edges of the universe.

Her head snapped to face it. “What?!”

She’s pretty out of it right now, Sana’s with her. It sat down next to her, leaning back on its hands.

“How did she get so far out?”

It shrugged. I just stumbled across her.

They stayed where they were, watching Bae’s chaos unfold below them as the shrieks faded into background noise.

“Warden?”

Hm?

It jumped at the feeling of warm fingers tracing the pale blue scarring across its scaled arm.

What are you-?

“When did this start?” She continued looking at them instead of meeting its eyes.

It just started happening, I told you not to worry.

Her claws dug into its skin, just enough to threaten piercing without going through.

It clenched its jaw.

“This hurts you. Why?”

It kept silent.

“How did Bae’s ear tear?” She pressed, gold eyes finally staring into its own.

It wasn’t sure it actually preferred this over her scrutinising its markings.

“Why did it never heal?”

It ran its forked tongue over the front of its fangs. What could it really say? It was not The Warden’s place to tell.

It turned away, looking down at the wreckage below, feeling her gaze burning holes into its cheek.

“What about your wings?”

I don’t need them anymore.

It stood, pulling Fauna up with it. She hesitated, resisting the force, but gave in quick, turning her back to the cliff.

“Where did you leave Sana and Guardian?”

So she was just Guardian now. Progress.

It gestured in the direction it came, Fauna shifting into her regular form and bowing down to let it climb on.

“Is something going on with her?”

Not sure. She doesn’t seem to be very coherent though. It rested its chin in between her antlers, wrapping its arms around her neck. Does that ever happen to you? I’m assuming it’s because of that.

“No.” Her tail snapped behind her, whipping into the trunk of a nearby tree. “I feel aches, pains in my chest, headaches, that kind of thing, whenever Bae interferes with my domain. I don’t lose my bearings.”

It hummed, frowning. Perhaps it is just something exclusive to her, then.

A blur rushed past them, slamming into a dense thorn bush.

“Fuck!”

Bae?

“Are you alright?” Fauna called out, trotting quickly over to inspect the damage to their oh-so coordinated Leader.

It seems they were having another gathering quite a lot sooner than intended.

She groaned, pulling herself from the barbs with a wince. “I heard about the town getting wiped out and came. I didn’t expect it to destroy the entire thing, I just wanted some houses to wash away!”

It seems sometimes Chaos itself feels remorse.

Well, it shouldn’t say that. The Warden was a much less pleasant individual than Bae.

The Guardian is acting unusual. Come on, it held out a hand for the small being, let’s go see her.

Instead of hopping into its hand like it initially assumed, she changed, form tearing and jerking into something human. It wasn’t sure why, The Guardian wasn’t around to see, what comfort would it afford?

Perhaps just to prepare.

Still, it pulled her in front of it, scooting back to make room. She leaned back against its chest, lounging with an air of frivolity that it couldn’t help but smile at. It liked when the others touched it.

Her fur brushed its scales, heating up the cold metal wrapping its torso.

“You’re cold as shit, Warden.”

Then stop leaning on me.

“No.”

She scratched at her ear, the torn flaps wilting apart.

Where’s the mousetrap?

Fauna glanced behind her to see, the serpent lounging on her antler rattling his tail at the movement.

“It broke.” She waved a hand in the air. “It’ll be fine.”

It wasn’t long before they came to their little clearing, the sight of Sana patting the back of a vomiting Guardian meeting them.

They had gathered around their newest Council member for multiple days, weeks, however long they had, until she had recovered.

She didn’t appear to remember any of it, finding the rebuilt village with a surprise that it was certain she wouldn’t be able to fake.

After the incident, she had taken to journalling, writing and recording on whatever she could get her hands on. Once it found her by following a trail of leaves, all torn to show an image. It wasn’t entirely sure where they were being kept safe, but it wouldn’t pry. Nor would the others. That was her’s and her’s alone.

The incident seemed to bring Fauna and The Guardian closer, at least. It was rare to see them apart, at least when it visited the planet. There was barely a moment where it didn’t The Keeper guiding her through her bouts of fog and memory loss, a constant hand resting on her shoulder or upper arm.

When they weren’t attached together, The Guardian continued her documentation, even during their little gatherings, taking note of their conversations.

It was endearing, seeing her scribbling away under the dappled shadow of its tree. It liked watching over her shoulder.

Sometimes, like always, there would just be two.

You don’t talk like the other ones.

You don’t either.

She scrunched her nose, shaking out her wings and letting a few loose feathers drift to the dirt. But you’ve been here so much longer than I have.

It let the serpent drop down into her lap.

I never felt the need. It doesn’t matter as long as they understand what I am saying.

Is that why you don’t have a name then?

The Warden nodded, before jolting up at a sudden call. Not too important. It split itself further, sending it off to attend to the task.

She watched the piece of it shoot into the sky, disappearing swiftly.

Why are you still ‘it’ then? Is it because there’s no reason to change?

Burying its head back into its coil, it started thinking. Honestly, it hadn’t really thought much about it. It was ‘It’. It would always be an ‘It’, even if it changed. The others, well, Sana and Bae, they were still ‘It’.

Fauna and the Guardian were and weren’t at the same time. They were ‘It’, and yet they were different from the others, they had reason to be. They had emotions, creations, they were so linked to the lives of their domains. Those two breathed, slept, ate, drank. They were alive. The Warden was not.

But it did not expect The Guardian to understand. So it stayed quiet, thinking of what to say instead.

Hello?

Huh? Sorry. It yawned, stretching its jaw. Yeah, there’s no reason to change, so why would I?

But… She frowned, craning her neck to look up at it, fingers playing with it’s serpent that was currently nosing at her hand. But why not?

It blinked, confused.

Why not, if there’s no reason? Can’t it be just for fun then? She shifted to stand, still too short to properly meet its eye. I’m sure it doesn’t matter if The Speaker or our Leader have names, I mean, The Keeper had one since she came into existence, but the other two are just doing it for the sake of doing it then.

It collapsed, slithering down to reform on a nearby root, now in its more human shape. It was getting better at that.

She crouched back down, observing it with those wide, curious eyes, crossed arms resting on her knees.

You can call me something if you want. I don’t mind, it doesn’t matter to me as long as I can watch over my domain to the standard required.

The Guardian deflated, rocking back from her feet to sit properly, supporting herself on her hands.

It’s not really fun if you don’t choose though…

Why don’t you have a name?

A startled chirp slipped out.

What?

You’re like Fauna. But you call yourself Guardian like how I am The Warden. Why don’t you have a name?

It crawled forward at her hesitance, peering closely.

I keep… I think I tried, or maybe I had one when I came into existence. I think I forgot it. I can’t remember it.

She cast her eyes to the side, almost embarrassed at the fact.

So make a new one and write it down, or tell us. We won’t forget. The white serpent moved up its arm to rest across its shoulders, nodding his head vigorously.

She paused, then the corners of her lips curled slightly.

Thank you.

They settled down, now both laying on the grass, side by side.

You know, she tapped it’s companion’s snout softly with a talon, my humans are starting to try and understand you.

Really?

She hummed an affirmation. They have this symbol. A snake that eats its own tail. A cycle of never-ending creation and destruction, of repetition and renewal. Of your domain. They call it Ouroboros.

Quite a long name, isn’t it?

The Guardian scoffed, grinning at it. You can shorten it. You shortened Baelz’s name even with how small it already is.

It stretched its arms out above its head, feeling the blades of grass poke through the gaps of its fingers.

He can take that name if he wants.

The serpent perked up, tongue flicking out at a mention.

And what do they call my domain?

Time.

So that was it’s domain, at least, what to call it. Not that it mattered, but it was nice to put a name to it. It was Time, like Fauna was Nature, like Sana was Space, like Baelz was Chaos.

It said farewell to her at the end of the gathering, Boros curled on top of its head like always.

The next meeting, they all met Mumei.

“Damn. Even the new one gets a name before you, huh?” Bae lay sprawled on its back, nails scratching the scales and scars.

And Boros.

“You never change, do you?” She rubbed her chin against its cheek playfully, before leaping off and shifting into a bird to fly over and land on Mumei’s shoulder, pecking at her hair. She tried, in vain, to shoo her away, squawking at the surprise attack.

She meant it as a joke, it knew that. It had certainly changed, just not enough to be significant in it’s opinion.

“Does it make you feel… I don’t know, left out?” Sana had whispered into its ear when they had settled down from the excitement, a little ways away from the others in its tree, the branch nearly worn through. It would need to move to a new spot soon.

No. It lied.

In truth, it did want a name, it had wanted one for a while, perhaps ever since Fauna had come. But it couldn’t, it couldn’t change now, not after so long. It was Warden, that was it’s name now. The Warden of Time, also known as Warden.

She watched it for a moment, then rested a hand on its head, rubbing a thumb on its flat crown. Sana had taken to shifting much better than it, much better than most, except for Baelz. She looked almost entirely human, bar the occasional fuzziness as she lost and regained her shape.

“You can if you want, you know.”

It hummed, shaking off her hand. You can give me one if you want, it doesn’t matter to me.

It did. It really did.

“Why not choose your own?”

I can’t think of any. Besides, I don’t care.

“I’ll think for you then.” She pressed her lips against it’s nose and held out her hand, inviting it to come down.

It complied, slithering onto her arm and around her neck, feeling the warm flesh give under its weight.

She giggled. “That tickles, Warden.”

It just flicked out its tongue, touching her cheek and getting her to laugh harder at the sensation.

She sat down, hugging it to her chest and kissing all over its head repeatedly. The Warden squeaked, trying to wriggle out of her grip, but she kept it firmly in place under the onslaught.

“You’re so cute.” It blinked, going limp from surprise.

Huh?

“You’re cute! A cute little snake!”

I’m not cute! It argued, doubling down on its efforts to escape. The others had definitely noticed by now.

“Aww it’s embarrassed!” Fauna took advantage of the situation to vigorously pat its head, rubbing it’s scars and scratching under its chin.

It hissed, baring its fangs and rattling the tip of its tail at the attention.

Get off.

“You won’t bite me though.”

Try me.

She smiled, like it couldn’t inject litres of venom into her body with a single bite. “Go ahead.”

It grumbled, glaring at her.

Her grin turned smug, spreading across her face.

If Sana wasn’t trapping me-

“You still wouldn’t.” She cuddled it tighter, tucking it against her neck.

It stayed silent, pouting to itself.

“Cute.”

Hey!

Fauna collapsed onto Sana, crushing it between the two beings. It let out a muffled groan, giving up and accepting it.

I thought you didn’t care what we called you?

I’m not cute!

“But you are~” Bae drawled, finally abandoning her relentless attack on Mumei’s hair to turn her torment over to it.

It said nothing, letting out another irritated hiss, which was completely smothered by the fur of Fauna’s chest.

It became more common, the piles. It would use it’s perch less and less, coiling around the others, until it left the tree altogether, trapped between the bodies, sometimes so entangled it couldn’t tell who was who.

It liked those times the most, the ones where they were broken down to the most basic instinct to be together. It felt wanted It was nice, just being, not even talking, just the breath of one in its ear as another listened to the ticking emanating from its torso, the weight of their head keeping it pinned in the warmth.

But time passed, their meetings would end, and they would move on until the next, and the next.

One occasion started with the others already twisted together, soft murmurs permeating the air as it came late, having been held up unexpectedly by a call from The Gods. It didn’t tell them that though.

They had grown silent at it’s arrival, watching it with eyes glowing from what it had later realised was excitement. At the time, it was petrified.

“Come come!” Fauna extricated herself, pulling it closer and wrapping her tail around it, the flat tuft brushing against its scarred back and tickling its skin.

What is it? It let itself fall into the pile, immediately feeling hands and claws tugging it further down.

“Mumei and Faufau kept hearing stuff that humans had a deity for time. He’s called Kronos, and they say he ate his children to prevent them from taking power, at least, I think.” Sana smiled at it.

I don’t eat children, Sana. And if I did have that kind of palate, I don’t have any.

“Not that part, just the name!” She corrected, still as chipper as when she first saw it.

If you want.

please please please please

“Maybe don’t copy the name completely.” Mumei twisted her head around from her notebook, still scribbling away even as she was half buried under Bae.

“Kro...nii?”

Kronos to Kronii. How creative. It kept it’s voice as flat as possible, trying not to vibrate from joy.

“You said you didn’t care about the name!” She whined, poking its cheek.

You can call me that if you want, I’m just pointing out the similarity.

She crushed it against her, squealing loudly in delight. “Kronii!”

So it was Kronii then.

Kronii sounded nice. It liked when they said it.

Kronii Kronii Kronii.

It never wanted them to stop saying it.

It seemed like they knew that, because they used it in almost every sentence.

“Hey, Kronii!”

“How are you Kronii?”

What do you think, Kronii?”

“Kronii’s here.”

“I love you Kronii!”

It liked hearing that sentence.

The words cushioned its chest with warmth, heating its cheeks with a heady kind of happiness that tilted it’s world.

They loved it.

And, along the way, she realised she loved them too.

She just needed to say it back.

Kronii spun in her chair, facing the pile of their Council as they snuggled on the nest of blankets, pillows, and stuffed animals, snoring softly away.

Bae’s leg snapped out in a hard kick, nose twitching in her sleep. Fauna huffed at the heavy contact, tail slapping a nearby pillow, but she didn’t wake from her slumber, having grown used to it over time.

The only one that was still awake was Sana, her half-lidded eyes meeting her own, arms lazily trapping The Guardian against her chest.

“You’ve worked long enough, Kronini. Come, sleep.”

She hummed, using her feet to swivel from side to side. “The Gods want this done as soon as possible, though. I need to be prepared for my meeting with Death. It has been a while since we caught up.”

She tapped the pen against the paper of her half-finished letter. “I hear he has a new apprentice.”

“Oh, who cares, you need to rest.” She raised a hand, beckoning her over. “Come on, don’t you wanna cuddle with us?”

And how could The Warden resist that?

She stood, rocking slightly at the sudden movement as a wave of exhaustion crashed into her. Had she really been working that long? It was unusual for her to lose track of time. Perhaps Sana was right.

She stumbled over, barely feeling the shifting of her form as she shed her clothing, feeling the cold chains that had lain across its garments cut into her skin and rest against her arms and back.

She flopped down into the nest, immediately feeling Bae latch onto her side and bury her head into the crook of her neck, tail slinking around her calf.

Sana finally went to rest, fading into the air to encompass them, not before reaching for a blanket to place over Kronii’s body, and sinking down to drape over the four.

Mumei, having lost her personal pillow, rolled to the side, finding her other shoulder and swiftly putting it to use, tossing an arm over her torso.

Fauna groaned in her sleep, shifting around before settling when Sana squeezed them tightly in her hold.

As she let sleep take her, the ticking in the air slowing and fading to a quiet metronome, she knew that she loved them all.

She always had, even if she hadn’t known the words before. She always had, and she always would. No matter what. They were all tied to each other, all wholly woven together with their designated purposes and domains, and nothing could break that.

Not themselves, not The Gods, not anything.

And so she slept, surrounded by those she loved with her entire being.

She wouldn’t have it any other way.